The Extinction Trials(53)

Maya sat down on the couch beside Owen.

“I have a favor to ask,” she whispered.

“Anything.”

“There’s nothing to read. I wondered if we might read together.”

“The Birthright?”

“It might be awkward, being so close—”

“I’d love to. But I warn you, I’m a slow reader.”

“Then you turn the pages.”

“All right. Shall we start at the beginning?”

“No. Let’s pick it up where you left off.”

With that, he opened the book, and Maya began to read along.





A mind under stress naturally resists rest. It is a machine that is always on.

Yet, often times, the only way to overcome the stress-inducing obstacle is to recharge and achieve greater performance.

Therefore, a new perspective must be adopted: that rest is productive, that in times of great stress, rest is often the activity of greatest value.





Maya had intended to sleep on the narrow bunk in the hallway and use the small alarm clock on the bedside to wake herself when they arrived at the Escape Hatch. Yet, she found that she couldn’t go to sleep. She was too excited. Or anxious. It was hard to tell.

So, she remained on the deck, with Owen, the ship cruising through the night.

Periodically, she ventured to the ship’s bow and looked out, expecting to see lights on the horizon or a coastline or even a lighthouse.

There was only darkness.

As the time ticked down, her excitement turned to fear.

She wasn’t the only one. Owen began pacing the deck.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I’m thinking I was wrong. Maybe I completely misinterpreted the message.”

“We’re still not quite there.”

“We’re close enough to see something.”

“Let’s just wait. And have some faith.”

He nodded, but she could tell he was still deeply bothered.

“Let’s read a bit more and reassess when we reach the coordinates. What do you say?”

Without a word, he plopped down on the couch, and Maya opened the book to read again.

As cool wind blew over them, she snuggled closer to him, and he pulled her close.

In that moment, she didn’t want to read the book. She looked up at him and he peered down at her, his eyes a low simmering fire she could look into for the rest of her life—a fire that was heating her from the inside.

He shook his head and whispered, “I would give anything to be able to read your expression right now.”

“I’ll tell you for free.”

“What?”

Maya leaned closer to him, staring into his eyes and pressed her lips to his. The kiss seemed to last an eternity, and yet, when it was done, she instantly felt a vast void where it had been, a place she wanted to get back to, an emptiness that only he could fill.

Owen glanced at the door to the stairway that led to the staterooms. “The others—”

“It’s the end of the world,” Maya said. “You really want to worry about someone seeing us?”

“No. If you don’t, I don’t care if the whole world saw us.”

Owen surged forward and kissed her again and reached down and pulled her shirt off, moving urgently, like a starving man clawing his way to his last meal. And that’s exactly what the moments that came next felt like to Maya—an event that satiated a hunger she didn’t even realize she had.





When the ship’s engine turned off, Maya and Owen were lying under a blanket on the couch, staring up at the stars. Somehow, for that brief amount of time together, the entire world had faded away. The Extinction Trials. ARC. Genesis Biosciences. And The Change—they were all finally forgotten, if for only a short amount of time.

In that moment on the ship’s deck, under the stars, it felt to Maya as though she and Owen were truly the last people alive, as if the world was theirs, and it was safe, and nothing else mattered.

The alarm from the cockpit was a noisy—and stark—reminder that the other universe that they had just occupied was now over.

Owen pulled his clothes on quickly—so fast Maya had to marvel. But then she reminded herself that he was a fireman, so it made sense. It was one of his many specialized skills, which she had just expanded her knowledge of.

He jumped up from the couch and raced to the cockpit, head moving back and forth slightly as he scanned the display panel.

“We’re at the coordinates,” he called back to her.

As soon as Maya had her clothes on, she stood and spun around, looking out in every direction.

Owen said what she saw and what she was thinking: “There’s nothing out here.”





Chapter Forty-Two





For a long moment, Owen stared out at the empty sea around him.

He was tired, terrified, and so disappointed in himself. He had made the wrong call. He had led the group here—to a dead end.

And it was truly a dead end. Soon, they would run out of food.

Where had he gone wrong? The coordinates in the Escape Hatch video—had he misread them? Or had he seen meaning and reason where there was none? Had he identified a pattern that wasn’t actually there? If so, why? Was it to make himself look important to the group—to elevate his status, establish himself as an authority or leader? It was certainly part of his character. His career had constantly thrust him into that role.