Prompted

The Liar

Written 11/13/17

I focused on the man's pen as he wrote those three little facts, biting my lip to keep my expression calm. The line behind me was agitated, but that was no surprise—we were trying to enter Haven. Everyone was impatient.
I glanced over my shoulder, past the rows and rows of worried heads, to peer out the large windows that lead outside. I could see the dark clouds of a storm coming, and a few soaking people ducked through the doors before metal screens shunted down over the glass, effectively shutting out the sunlight. Overhead lights flicked on, illuminating the space, and the room gave a collective sigh of relief.
"Miss? You're ready." The man held out the card he'd been writing on, and I took it quickly. "Head straight through here. An attendant will show you to your seat."
I thanked him and hurried toward where he'd directed me. At the end of the room were several doors that lead through to the ship. A young woman greeted me with a patient smile and held her hand out for my card. I passed it to her expressionlessly, willing my foot to stop tapping. Her eyes scanned the card and passed right over the lie. A relief, but I wouldn't truly be safe until we were in the air.
"Door three, please. Have a safe flight." She smiled at me again as she passed my card back and turned to the next person. I strode through the doorway she'd indicated. Inside was a smaller space, lined with rows of hefty metal seats, cushioned with meager pillows. I scanned my card, found my seat, and started weaving through the chairs until I found the number I was looking for. I was squished between two middle aged men who were having a heated argument about the relation of the storms to the sickness. I rolled my eyes and pulled the seatbelt over my lap.
"Hey, you tell us." The one on my left poked my arm and pushed his glasses up his nose. "What do you think? Is the storm sickness caused by the storms?"
He was referring to the savage storms that raged across our planet and the fatal sickness that had halved Earth's population in 2422, only three years before. Since then, humanity had united—first in an effort to stop the storms and the disease and then, once they realized it was futile, to figure out how to get everyone off the planet. They'd been successful only a few months ago, after finding a habitable planet dubbed Haven. Production of most things was halted so factories could churn out rockets as fast as possible.
"I think it's called storm sickness for a reason," I replied, tucking my single bag underneath my seat. "I read a study that said the sickness was directly connected with the amount of radiation in the storms."
The man with the glasses nodded, satisfied with my answer. The other man huffed and sat back in his seat with obvious irritation.
The speakers suspended over our seats crackled to life. "Passengers, please fasten your seatbelts. We want to get out of here before that storm hits."
I tightened the strap over my legs and glanced around the chamber. Almost half the seats were still empty—a waste of space. But the captain was right. If we stalled, we would have to wait the storm out, and that could take days. By then, someone would have discovered my lie.
The rocket rumbled to life beneath us, and both of the men clutched the armrests of their seats. I turned my head to watch the doors shut, just in time to see the man who'd checked me in sprinting for the doors. He was yelling something that was drowned out by the engine, but as he neared I saw he was waving a poster. He pointed an angry finger at me and held the poster up. I had time to register my face before the door slammed shut in his face.
I relaxed back in my seat. A quick glance around the cabin told me that no one else had seen him, and as we rose off the surface of Earth, I knew I was safe. Communication devices were deemed redundant for the ships, so the man would have to contact Haven about me. By the time they figured out I was on the planet, I would have already vanished into the new city.
As I tilted my head back, I wished there were windows. I had been in space four times before in my lifetime, and I had always loved the takeoffs.
I turned the card over in my hands to read the three facts, my tickets off the planet and to Haven.
Female.
The most true of the three. I twirled a lock of my newly dyed hair around my finger—I'd never minded being female.
Uncontaminated.
True, at the moment. The only reason I hadn't died of the storm sickness like everyone else on the planet was because I simply couldn't die. I had gotten sick, but my body had fought off the disease, like it always did. Like it was always would. And that brought me to the lie:
20. I hadn't been twenty years old in a long, long time. I was 407—or maybe 408, I couldn't remember—and Earth's officials had very strict rules about immortals going to Haven. I couldn't reproduce, which meant I was useless in their eyes.
But I couldn't stay on Earth. Neither the storm nor the sickness could kill me, no matter how hard they tried. And eventually, everyone would either evacuate Earth or succumb to its disasters. That would have left me, all alone, on a raging planet.
I couldn't bear the thought, let alone the reality. So I'd stolen and cheated my way into getting a fake card with a lie printed on it.
I stuffed the card under my seat and closed my eyes. New planet, new city, new life. A new name, too. A new beginning.
So I let out a quiet breath I had been holding for a few decades and listened to the two men argue about the storm.