The Extinction Trials(63)

Maya and Owen laid on the couch, reading The Birthright. She paused on a passage she found particularly interesting:

In life, negative feedback has one role: as clues to greater success. If one can’t act on negative feedback to improve, the most appropriate action is very simple: nothing.





When the sun had set, Owen tried the monocular again. “There’s nothing out here.”

“Yet,” Maya said. “Not yet.”





The group was silent as they ate the last ARC meal they had brought from Station 17, the only sound that of the ocean waves lapping along the sides of the ship.

When they were finished, they waited as the time reached the hands on the pocket watch.

The moment came and went.

Nothing happened.

No signal.

No ship.

No helicopter.

Will tried the monocular again. He didn’t even bother announcing that he had found nothing. He only placed it back in the envelope, as if closing the case for good.

“I’ll take first watch,” he said. “I’m better rested than most of you. And besides, I believe I require less sleep.”

Despite napping that afternoon, Maya still felt tired. Instead of going directly to her room, she stopped by the stateroom Owen shared with Will.

“Maybe morning will bring an answer,” she said, loitering in the door frame.

“Maybe.”

“What are you thinking?”

“About how empty the world is.”

She entered and closed the door behind her. She didn’t want Blair to hear the conversation. They were in a desperate place now, and Maya wanted to spare her from hearing the people she was relying upon expressing their fear. Fear could be contagious—an infection that could grow and sicken the group.

“In the station,” Owen said, “we were boxed in. Running out of power and air.” He motioned to the sound of the waves striking the hull. “All we wanted was to get out. Now we’re here—with air and power in abundance. Out in the wide open. With no more clues and no ground to stand on. We’re adrift. Let’s face it.”

“There’s The Colony.”

“True. But I can’t help thinking something is here. I’m missing a very big clue.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Rest. You never know. Things might look different in the morning.”

He nodded. “It comes down to faith, doesn’t it? Just like my job some days. You go into a dangerous and unpredictable situation, and you’re not sure what’s going to happen, but you keep going because that’s the only thing you can do.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s funny, I felt alive in Station 17, when we were trying to escape. I felt it again on the ship—when the clock was ticking down, and we had a goal. Out here, now, I feel like I did before the Fall. Adrift. Not knowing my place in the world.”

“I think your place is being an integral part of this team. And to do that, you need to get some rest.”





When she woke, Maya climbed the stairs to the main deck, where she found Will, Owen, and Alister waiting. The sun was rising on the horizon, chasing the night away.

Slowly, she turned in every direction. And saw nothing.

Owen held the monocular in his hand at his side. “Still nothing,” he said quietly to her.

When everyone had finished breakfast, Owen stood and said what Maya was thinking.

“Whatever was here is gone. Or whatever was going to come for us isn’t coming. It’s time to go.”

Alister raised an eyebrow. “To The Colony?”

“To The Colony.” Owen turned to Will. “Can you chart a course?”

“I’ve already entered it in the ship’s nav system.”

“Do we have enough food to make it?” Cara asked.

“Plenty,” Will said. “I estimate we’ll have three days excess—assuming The Colony is by the sea. If we must hike inland, our supplies could be taxed, but we might also find additional replenishments before we reach our destination.”





Day and night, the ship motored across the sea. The family, as Maya had come to see them, settled into the routine they had found. Like a true family, they were pieces that fit together well, that clung to each other and repelled each other and were often frayed around the edges where the pieces touched. But they never fell apart for long.

Alister and Cara argued about anything they could think to argue about.

In the moments when no one was looking, Maya observed Blair taking out the envelope and gazing at the picture of her mother, father, and brother. Maya was torn between walking over to the girl and giving her a firm hug and allowing her some space.

Ultimately, Maya had opted to give Blair time to herself. She sensed that, now, she needed that more than coddling. In a way, during this long voyage in the quiet and the expanse of nothing, each of them was confronting their own thoughts and fears and demons.

Owen seemed to be having the hardest time with it. When he and Maya weren’t reading The Birthright on the plush couch, he was pacing or locked away in his room, brooding. Maya could almost see the wheels in his mind turning. He seemed almost haunted, a mind working on a problem with no solution. She desperately wanted to help him, but she saw no way to distract his mind or set him on a new course.