The Eyes of the Few

Space

            I run my fingers through my greasy, tangled hair, contemplating what to do. My hands shook as I reached for the metal keypad; I pull back at the last second, staring at my digits, and noticing just how bony and fragile I had become.

            I haven’t eaten in eight days. I haven’t had water in two.

            Sleeping for a full night isn’t an option. I must stay awake to keep the shuttle from crashing. I instead sleep for one hour periods, and then wake to pilot.

            I’m alone. I’m dying.

~ Flashback ~

            “Tasha! Hurry up; we have to get onboard an hour before liftoff.” Mrs. Angelo scolded, her oxygen helmet creating a slight echo to her voice. I nodded, rolling my eyes, and rushed onto the large metal craft.

            Beginning two years ago, the ninth grade classes of Fleur Jacobs’s High School have each gone on one field trip to our moon; to say it’s a private school for the rich was an understatement. I knew how lucky I was to get a full scholarship, considering only one was given a year.

            I walked along the ramp that let into the shuttle, trying to calm the bounce in my step that was caused by my excitement and the now instinctive need to, due to lack of gravity for the past month.

My uncomfortably thick clothing made to keep me alive scratched my arms as I entered the cold cabin, where the pilot sat messing around with switches and buttons. In order to come on this trip, we each had to take a small course on space shuttles and how to operate them, in case a scenario came up where the duty of leading this ship through space fell into one of our hands. A mechanic was rushing from one side of the room to the other, carrying a list of items under his arm and a box of trinkets in his oil covered hands.

“Excuse me, sir?” I asked, jumping as he slammed the box onto a table.

“What! Can’t you see I’m busy?” He exclaimed with wild hand gestures.

“Um… well, I was just wondering where the other students are, and when you think we’ll be lifting off.” I was eager to go home, and I’m sure it showed. When I was younger, I was always frightened by the concept of space being infinite, and now I was happy to finally be heading back to Earth.

He sighed, leaning against the table he had placed the box on, and wiped beads of sweat from his mustache and left eyebrow, unknowingly leaving two large black streaks across his face. “Most of them are in the exercise room, I think; and we’ll be lifting off as soon as the food supply is brought onboard.”

“Thanks.” I said, but I doubt he heard; he was already rummaging through the box, muttering something that seemed to be inaudible to me.

I jogged to the exercise room, prepared for a workout; we all exercised daily, it was needed if we wanted to be able to walk once we got back home. The shortage of gravity causes our bones and muscles to weaken, and this could result in us never walking again.

I reached the room, but to my surprise, it was empty. Confused, I turned around and rushed back to the main cabin.

The pilot and mechanic? Both weren’t there.

Now nervous, I looked around in search of something out of place. I most certainly found something. Sitting on the floor next to a turned over box of trinkets was none other than a hearing aid. My hearing aid. With quivering fingers, I reached down and lifted it to my ear, securing it in place. I slowly turned it on, and what I heard ended my excitement for the journey home and replaced it with pure terror.

An alarm, loud and constant, beeped over and over. I hurried back to the exit, and saw it was closing.

“No.” I whispered, changing my speed to a run. “NO! WAIT!” I yelled, but it was too late. The moment I heard shouts in response, the door was closed, and I was trapped inside. I ran back to the cabin and read the screen in front of the pilot’s chair: Chemical fumes detected.

The next screen said: Evacuation in process. The last screen said: Liftoff in FIVE.

My heart beating in my chest was so loud and so painful, I was sure I wouldn’t make it out of this alive.

FOUR.

I let out a strangled cry as I searched for something, anything that would prevent this liftoff from taking place.

THREE.

 Giving up, I sat down and hastily tried to put my seatbelt on the right way, knowing if I didn’t I would be thrown to the back of the cabin.

TWO.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, praying I would at least get to go to wherever it is my grandparents went after I died.

ONE.

The tears streamed across my face, some sticking to the end of my chin, the rest ending on the corners of my lips.

LIFTOFF.

~ End Flashback ~

I know why they had to send the shuttle away. If the chemicals leaked, everyone would die, not just those on the ship. I did wind up with some luck; there were around fifty oxygen tanks onboard, so when I started running low, all I had to do was switch the tank; I couldn’t exactly breathe without one, considering the toxic chemicals.

I’ve learned to live like this. My piloting knowledge, however limited, has kept me alive so far; the only thing I can’t seem to do is turn back to Earth or its moon.

I know my end is near; that much is unstoppable. That doesn’t mean I won’t try anything and everything in my power to stop it from happening.

One thing has continuously been changing since liftoff that dreadful day. Every moment since then, I’ve been getting more and more tired; I think this is because of the chemicals, but I think they also are slowing my mind. I don’t know what to do, and this scares me the most.

So instead of overthinking, I slide off of the chair and onto the cold, metal-tiled ground. I next take off my helmet, curl into a ball, and quickly fall to sleep.