Page 23 of Crash Landing
I wasn’t sure I wanted to chance it, but then I saw something small and black bobbing against a tuft of purple river grass.
My pack.
I had supplies in there. Not much, but it was better than nothing and it was a good enough incentive to get back in the water. Thankfully, the water wasn’t cold. Cool, yes, but comfortable. It was the current I was afraid of. I clearly couldn’t fight it, but I had no choice.
“Just drift,” I said to myself, rubbing my hands together like I was getting ready to sprint forward. “Just drift diagonally until you get to the other side.”
No sense in waiting. I dove into the water and drifted diagonally as I planned, trying not to panic about the fact that I was alone and lost on an alien moon. Gradually, I made it to the other side of the river and pulled myself toward the bank using drifting vines that were hanging in the water. Once on land again, I had to walk a fair distance to get back to my pack. I fished it out of the water, thankful it was waterproof, and opened it up to find my one canteen of water.
There was no telling what kinds of organisms were in Phesah’s water and despite probably having swallowed a gallon of it when I was in the river, I didn’t want to risk drinking anymore. I took three big gulps and then forced myself to put the water away in case I needed more later. Then I fished around to take note of everything I had at my disposal. I laid everything out on the dryest log I could find to get my bearings.
I had two-thirds of a canteen of water, a torchlight, my datapad, three protein bars, a bag of nuts, a chocolate bar, a very small pouch of first aid supplies with a few bandages and basic antiseptic, all of my sample vials, a tiny shovel, a tiny knife that was useful only to prune leaves for collecting, and a soil probe. I had no additional clothes, nothing to dry off with, and any tracking abilities or environmental readings were lost with my OxyMask.
I was fucked.
“Think, Sam. You might be an idiot, but you’re not stupid,” I said to myself, my voice cracking again to betray my true feelings on the matter.
In truth, I was stupid. I was so stupid I thought I could get into a scientific field on my own. I was so stupid that I didn’t heed the signs when Mr. Hemburg started paying attention to me. And now I was stupid for thinking I could survive by myself on an alien world. Would anyone even come for me or would they declare me a loss? It wasn’t like I was a great gift to human advancement. I had nothing to offer and the time and resources it might take to find me were probably better spent elsewhere.
I stuffed all of my things back in my bag, tears burning my eyes, and closed it up.
“Shut up and do something,” I sniveled.
There was a hill up ahead that led to a sharp cliff. In survival documentaries, they always went for higher ground. From up there, provided the mist wasn’t hoovering too low, I could get a good lay of the land. So, I started to hike. Without my mask, the heavy air was a bit of a chore to breathe and I prayed it wasn’t full of things that would take me out like the devil plant did. Huffing and puffing, I climbed the steep, rocky incline, being careful not to slip on the slick, wet obsidian, and reached a small flat. Standing, I took a slow look around and searched for anything useful.
A foolish hope flashed in my head that I’d see the base camp on the other cliff across from me or maybe the ship, but I didn’t. As far as my eyes could see, there was foggy wilderness. No people. No ship. No camp.
But they were all upriver.
Excitement flickered inside me for a good three seconds before I saw how many arms the river had. It flowed in all directions like an artery with a thousand veins strewn all overthe place. I didn’t know which one I’d come from or which direction I went.
I closed my eyes, doing my best not to crumple on the ground and just bawl my eyes out. Then I remembered something the captain said about a base or a compound the valerians had built. He said it wasn’t in use anymore, but old compounds were bound to have some kind of tech. Not that I’d know how to use it, but it was a start. If nothing else, maybe there were supplies.
I rubbed my temples trying to remember what else the captain said. I recalled him pointing in a certain direction. What direction was that?
It was toward the horizon where the red sun was. But the night on Phesah was just an eclipse, so where was Sylos at the time? Glancing further right, I saw Sylos, but had the eclipse just ended, or was it coming up?
“Ok,” I sighed, sitting myself down on the ground.
I searched the ground for the straightest stick I could find and jammed it into a soft bit of soil. The shadow stretched out toward the river so I placed a little pebble at the tip of it.
And then I waited. I waited very impatiently, sitting on the ground and hugging my knees to my chest. As soon as I noticed the shadow had passed the pebble, I deduced that it was getting later and Phesah was rotating further behind Sylos.
Proud of myself, I stood again and took a deep breath, staring at the terrain ahead of me. A small vein of the river was heading that way so I decided to follow it. At least then I’d have something to follow back if I got myself lost.
Once on the bank of the narrower stream, I saw that it, too, branched off into others. They were easy enough to wade across, but I was going to lose my way fast if I didn’t think of another way to navigate. If I had fabric, I could mark trees with bows, but I didn’t have any fabric aside from my suit and I needed it. Therewas no telling what was in that forest that could cling to my bare skin.
Stepping up to a narrow, leafless tree that seemed abundant on the banks, I poked at its bark. It was spongy and full of water. Picking up a jagged rock, I scraped a line into the spongy bark and saw it peel away, revealing a white second layer. Among all the dark colors, the white stood out like snow on asphalt.
“Sorry, tree,” I said, carving an “X” into its flesh.
I moved on, constantly glancing back to know the X was still visible. Once it got difficult to see, I carved another X into another tree.
I went on like that for an hour or more, marking my way down the river. Out there, by myself, the forest was alive with noises that were both beautiful and terrifying. The water flowing was a sound I could have fallen to sleep to. The constant dripping of dew falling from leaves was just as calming, but every time a twig broke in the distance or a weird bird call echoed through the air, I tensed. I didn’t know the wildlife on Phesah. I didn’t know if it ate meat or how big any of it was. We were meant to be confined to a small base camp for a day, not walking across the moon. I knew far too little to be hiking alone with barely any supplies.
I sped up my pace, slowly acclimating to the climate and the heavy air. I was beyond thankful that, besides the humidity, the atmosphere wasn’t doing anything to make me feel ill. It smelled like greenery and rich soil and occasionally, a floral scent would actually make it quite pleasant.
I lost count of how many Xs I carved into the local trees. I felt like I’d been walking for miles. Maybe I was, but I had no way to tell.
