The Extinction Trials(29)

They walked the length of the small vessel to the rear, where two large outboard motors sat in the water. The sitting area nearby featured four swivel chairs bolted to the deck and vertical pipes that looked like they might hold fishing rods.

Ahead, under the solar roof, lay the main deck. To the left, there was a small kitchenette with a sink, a small stove, and what looked like a refrigerator under the counter. Maya bent over and peered through the glass door of what she thought was the refrigerator, but it was empty. An L-shaped couch lay across from it.

Beyond the couch was an open cockpit, with two plush seats side-by-side and a steering wheel to the right that reminded Maya of the old cars before they became self-driving.

On the left, there was a dining table with banquette seating.

What Maya didn’t see struck her most: people, blood, or any signs of habitation.

Between the dining table and the cockpit, there was a small door just shorter than she was. Alister moved towards it. “Let’s check below decks.”

The door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing a small staircase leading into the darkness.

Alister switched his headlamps on as he descended, and Maya did the same. They stepped single file into the darkness, their beams raking across the narrow corridor.

Dead ahead lay a closed door. There was another door directly to the right. The small landing switched back, turning towards the rear of the ship. In that short hallway was another small flight of stairs that descended further into the bowels of the vessel.

Alister pushed open the door to his right. It was a stateroom with two narrow beds just big enough to hold an adult. Both empty.

Alister stepped back and pushed open the door ahead. It was another stateroom, also empty, with a single larger bed. The room was wider near the door and grew more narrow towards the far wall, which was closer to the bow of the ship.

Maya retreated into the hall, allowing Alister to pass her and move towards the staircase that led deeper into the ship. It was darker here—the dim light that had filtered in from the stairway to the main deck now faded to a soft glow.

Maya checked her oxygen level.

52%

They needed to head back soon.

On the right side of the hallway, there was a narrow table with u-shaped banquette seating. A single door ahead was the only exit from the hallway.

Alister turned the handle and pushed the door open, panning his helmet lights left and right. Maya knew instantly from his body language that something was wrong. He drew back a step, still holding the door as if ready to slam it shut.

He waited a moment before charging into the room, swiveling about, searching. Maya saw it then: two figures lying on the largest bed she had yet to see on the ship. They were wearing suits—ARC Technology environmental suits just like the one she wore. The two figures were unmoving. And they were holding hands.

“Stay there, Maya,” Alister said, his voice more serious than she had ever heard it.

He darted towards the corner of the room and jerked open the door and stepped back. Over the radio, she heard him exhale. “It’s just a bathroom. It’s empty.”

Maya ventured closer to the couple and leaned over the bed, bathing their faces with light. It was a man and woman. They appeared to be about her age. And Owen’s age. Their eyes were closed, and their faces showed no signs of distress. They seemed, in a word, peaceful.

She felt awkward about it, but she knew what she had to do. She reached out and took the woman’s arm, and turned the panel towards her and tapped it. The suit still had power—it had apparently gone into sleep mode—but the tank was out of oxygen.

Gently, she placed the woman’s arm back on the bed. Alister did the same for the man. “His oxygen is at zero.”

Maya checked her own panel. “I’m at 49%, Alister. We need to hurry.”

“True. But I should make sure the boat’s operational first.”

Maya cocked her head. “Do you know much about boats?”

“Well… Not really. But it’s sort of like a city bus floating on the water. If it’s got an engine, I can make it run.”

Maya smiled. “I hope you’re right.”

Alister motioned to the man and woman on the bed. “It feels wrong, but we need the suits. We’re one short, and it would be nice to have an extra and a spare tank.”

“You’re right,” Maya said quietly. “I’ll get the suits while you check the ship. And we really should hurry.”

As Maya was removing the suit, a question occurred to her: how had they died? Surely, they hadn’t asphyxiated. If so, Maya imagined that they wouldn’t have gone this peacefully.

She found the answer—she thought—on the bedside table. There was a small pill bottle with an ARC Technologies label, though she didn’t recognize the medication name.

Beneath the bottle was a small notebook. The first page contained a simple message: To Someone More Fortunate Than Us.

Maya flipped through the pages. It was a journal. As soon as time allowed, she’d read it. For now, she tucked it in the pocket of her suit.

In the darkened room, staring at the deceased couple, she felt a pang of sadness. Had they been Extinction Trials participants like her? Had they come from Station 17 as well? Were they from one of the cohorts previously released? If they were from the station, why didn’t they take their suits and oxygen tanks back to the decontamination chamber, which could have refilled the tanks?