The Girl On the Moon [#Watty2015]

Chapter 15: Rowan Smith

I need to get out of here. I need to save everyone. Slowly, I look up from the floor. Sammy hasn't come to check on me yet, and Marsha is in the kitchen making dinner. Slowly, I stand up, but I topple immediately. "Crip crap!" I softly curse. I've been sitting here so long my limbs–actually, my entire body–fell asleep.

"Rowan, dear? Was that you?" QUICK! ASSUME FETAL POSITION. "Rowan why don't you join me for dinner? Please, honey, you're scaring me." I hear her sigh, and then the sound of feet padding away from me. My plan worked. When all is clear again, I try again at standing up. This time, I'm able to make it to my feet, and soon I'm shakily walking across the floor and out the door.

I don't know if anyone has been told I'm here, but I walk against the walls in case, so no one sees me. Plus, I can't keep my balance without the support of the bricks. Gradually I get the feeling back in my limbs, and soon I'm running towards the observatory at full speed, still keeping to the alleys.

Finally, I reach the observatory. Easing the back door open, I let my feet carry me to Marsha's lab. Unbeknownst to Sammy and Marsha, I have moved. When Sammy's at school and Marsha's at the lab, I often return to the house I lived in with Father. That's where I first found the papers.

Creeeaaakk goes the door as I slowly open it. This is my third visit, and yet I've never bothered to oil the door. I don't want anything to change, I want it to be all perfect for the moment when Father bursts through the door, singing merrily off key. He's coming home, I know it. And besides, no one can hear me out here when I cry because he hasn't returned to me. I cry buckets full, I cry so hard I can't breathe, and when I'm finally out of tears, I sit there silently, numb all over. Sitting there, I realize I need to head home soon if my ways are to go unnoticed. My five hour oxygen mask was up three hours ago, and only the bubble around the house is keeping me alive, so slowly I stand up, my legs wobbling from the weight of my heavy heart–and because I haven't moved for the past few hours. The air masks are still in a neat pile by the African violet, though soon I'll need to restock. Not paying attention, I reach out, my hand scraping over the surface of the cabinet before finding the masks and- Knocking them all over. Go coordination! Whoo!

I sigh, bending down to stack them all up again. Reaching my arm behind the cabinet, I come to discover the obvious: I am not as small as I used to be. Sighing once more, I begin the laborious task of moving the cabinet forward, inch by inch.

Ten long minutes later, the cabinet is a foot away from the wall, and the air masks are pushed into a pile off to the side. Sweeping my arm one last time across the space, my fingers brush against something that definitely is not wood or plastic. Curious, I poke my head into the space. "What are you doing back here?" I wonder aloud, pulling out an old leather notebook. My inquisitive nature won't let me move the cabinet into place before checking out the notebook, so I get comfy on the floor, open to a random page, and begin to read.

April 29, 2040

Serum 172: failed (initial serum plus fluoroquinolone)

Serum 173: failed (initial serum plus rifampicin)

Serum 174: failed (second serum minus isoniazid)

Tests today did not go well, and people are dying by the dozen. My assistants are getting antsy, wondering if there even is a cure. I tell them we'll find away, but I'm starting to doubt my own words. I have identified it a drug resistant strain of tuberculosis, but that doesn't mean we have an answer. So far we have not contacted the government with the issue, as the communication lines are faulty. I told the idiots they needed more time but NOOOO we must take off on the president's birthday! We can't send anybody home for fear of spreading the disease, so all we can do is hope and test.

Timothy Smith, Head Scientist of Nova Laboratories

I stand there, the laboratory cast in an eerie light from the single fluorescent light on in the back. From my back pocket, I pull out what I believe to be Father's notebook. The wrinkled leather cover and his familiar scent ingrained into the book prompt my tears to return, but I try to force them back. I have to fix what I've done.

It's time to whip up some Lunar Tuberculosis cure.

1. How would you feel if someone you knew had an important secret crucial to the plot and they didn't tell you?

2. How fast can you assume the fetal position?

3. Have you ever had your foot fall asleep and you don't realize so you stand up and you look down and you just think to yourself 'I don't think that's supposed to bend like that' ?

HEY LOOK ITS A BUNCH OF IMPORTANT INFO WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Oh wait it came from me YOU ARE WELCOME! This is a very sassy chapter in my opinion. My favorite part is when she thinks to herself "My plan worked." because it is just so Rowan and by that I mean it is something I would say.

Me: Oh no my earbuds are caught I better make dying bird noises

Person: *frees my earbuds*

Me: my plan worked