Page 112 of The Last Hope
The mechanical groan is suddenly above us.
“Here we go,” Stork says, just as the lidbangsshut. We’re in complete pitch-black darkness. In a quick moment, Stork snaps a plastic stick and drops it at our feet.
Blue light glows. Illuminating all of us while the dumpster rumbles. Rocking from side to side, I grip my handle like my life depends on it.
Gods, my lifedoesdepend on it.
No one speaks.
We can’t see outside the dumpster, but my stomach lurches like the claws have grabbed and lifted the bin.
The walls rattle.
We must be rocketing through space.
Spending months in StarDust, in all those gravity simulators, has paid off for us. No motion sickness touches me or Court or Mykal, and theSaga 4seem just as content.
Stork is used to space flight as a C-Jay. I didn’t think he’d be the one to botch this trip.
Soon, we must hit a patch of debris, as the dumpster quakes violently.
“Hold on,” Court tells everyone.
My arm bangs into Court’s arm. Mykal’s elbow digs into my side—and then the dumpster careens forward and back in a whiplashsnap.
Only my neck moves, my head slinging forward. The same happens to Stork, and in a perfect collision, our helmets crash together.
Crack.
Crunch.
As my head slings back to the wall, I’m disoriented. Confused, panicked, concerned… terrified—tripled senses veering in several directions.
“Franny!” Court’s voice pitches in my ear. Everyone is speaking. Yelling. I hear my name from five different people.
Stork shakes the dizziness out of his head, his glass visor crunched in the corner but not broken.
Why is a red light flashing inside my helmet? I focus…
No.
No.
A slender fissure runs through my glass visor. It seems small, but it’s a gapinghole.The dumpster is sealed shut, but it can’t protect me from space. Who knows how much oxygen crept inside this bin before the lid shut?
Holy hells… I’m going to die.I don’t want to die.
I don’t want to die.
Gods, I don’t want to die today.
“Stay calm,” Court snaps at me, static softening his stabbing voice. “Take shallow breaths, Franny.”
Zimmer lets go of his handle and is about to pull off his helmet—
“No,no,” I almost shout, my eyes frantic.
He could die. Today could be his deathday, and he’s not dying in this fykking dumpster.
