Page 4 of Leveling

Chapter 3

The port openedon a cavernous room. Computers, copiers, desks, chairs, and other office detritus were shoved, stacked, and piled along the edges, cutting off most of the view of the ocean surrounding the Outpost. There were temporary cubby walls and whirling twirling chairs and overturned metal cabinets and doors leading to back offices that were dark and terrifying and thankfully mostly closed off. Broken ceiling tiles hung down here and there, with dangling wires, giving the whole place a chaotic, messy vibe. “You live here?”

“Nope, I’m just visiting.”

He half-chuckled and added, “For the last six months.”

Luna was supremely grateful for his half-chuckle. “Hey, you’re human, come to find out.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Standing out there reading your edict, bossing me around—I kind of wondered if you were an Outpost-dwelling, humorless, robot-guy.”

“Well, I’m not—humorless.”

Luna smiled, “Nice one.”

She picked a column that had worn and chipped paint as if many a rope had anchored there before and tied a strong anchor hitch. Then Beckett led Luna through the maze of furniture to a door on an interior wall with a sign that read: stairs. As he pushed open the door he said, “I’m not a big fan of going in here.” Inside the stairwell sounds echoed—dripping, lapping, splashing. Loudly.

They climbed three flights to a door that had a sign: roof.

Stepping onto the rooftop was like entering another world. Off-center was a large yellow circle for a helicopter landing. A quarter of the rooftop was covered in a lush green garden. Potted shade trees stood at the west end, with a tent nestled under them. Electronics, radios, boxes, trunks, and coolers were piled beside the tent and beside that was a sheltered, makeshift kitchen.

Beckett pointed, “There’s Sam’s garden. He had it growing so well, I don’t do anything but harvest the fruit. Help yourself to some strawberries.”

Luna rushed over and dropped to her knees. She grasped big, red, plump berries, plucked them, looked at them adoringly, and shoved them into her mouth. After a cool dozen, she asked, “I feel so bad.” Red juice dripped down her chin. “I should save you some.” Her cheeks were full, her voice muffled. “Do you want some?”

“No thanks, I’ve had plenty.” Beckett watched her eat. “When was your last meal?”

“A while. No fruit in forever.”

Beckett headed to his kitchen. “I have some meat. Would you like a sandwich or two?”

“I’d love two, thanks. Bread, mayo, cheese,” she answered without prompting.

As Beckett made the sandwiches he watched her work her way down a row of strawberries. He had never seen someone behave so unselfconsciously. Unguarded. Free. Beckett couldn’t decide if he liked it or not—she wasn’t giving the gravity of the situation its due consideration, but it was nice to have someone to talk to. Beckett hadn’t done much but be alone, worrying, for a long, long time.

Finally, satiated from the fruit, Luna brushed off her knees. “Wow, what a view. You must have the best view in the whole entire, covered-in-tons-of-water, world.” She walked along the long low perimeter wall, turned the corner, and walked along the next perimeter, calling back over her shoulder, “And in every direction there’s nothing. Isn’t it amazing? Just ocean, far and wide. So beautiful.”

“Um hmm,” said Beckett. Unsure if he could agree. He had grown used to thinking of the ocean in a whole other way.

Luna leaned out and over, pointing down. “There’s my paddleboard! It’s teeny tiny!”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t what? Lean, like this?” Three quarters of her body was across the low railing now.

“Yeah, yeah, like that, don’t.”

Luna pulled back from the edge without noticing Beckett’s angst. “Have you jumped? You totally could from here. Thirty feet—maybe a tad more.” Her hands were on her hips as she appraised the distance.

Beckett stopped mid-movement, frozen, mayo knife gripped in his fist.

Would she jump?

And what would he do if she did?

The moment passed.

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