Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(5)

“You shouldn’t be here. You, and Maria, and the kids should be heading south right now.”

He studies his boots. “I know, Doc.”

“So why are you still here?”

“Not enough seniority. Or maybe not enough friends. Or maybe both.”

He’s right: it is both. And probably because his supervisors know that he will actually fight when the riots start. In the world we live in, the best people carry the weight for others—and they get crushed first.

Pedro shrugs. “It’s above my pay grade.”

An inmate appears in the doorway and scans the room, his eyes wide, unblinking. Drugged. There’s something in his hand. His name is Marcel, and he’s generally bad news.

Pedro turns.

Marcel leaps for him, wraps a meaty arm around the guard’s midsection, traps his arms, and raises a homemade knife to Pedro’s neck.

Time seems to stand still. I’m vaguely aware of the hum of the washers and dryers, of the news blaring on. A new sensation begins, a rumbling in the distance, like thunder moving closer. Footsteps. A mob flowing through the prison’s corridors. Shouting overpowers the footsteps, but I can’t make out the words.

Pedro is struggling against Marcel’s hold.

Another inmate appears in the doorway. He’s barrel-chested, keyed up. I don’t know his name. He shouts to Marcel. “You got ’im, Cel?”

“I got him.”

The other inmate darts away, and Marcel looks at me. “They gonna let us freeze to death in here, Doc. You know it.”

He waits.

I say nothing.

Pedro grits his teeth as he tries to pull his right hand free.

“You with us, Doc?”

Pedro’s hand breaks from Marcel’s hold and flies to his side, into his pocket. I’ve never seen him use a weapon. I’m not sure he has one.

Marcel doesn’t wait to find out. He moves the knife closer to Pedro’s neck.

And I make my choice.





Chapter 3





Emma





Floating in the cupola attached to the Tranquility node, I watch the International Space Station twist and buckle like a Midwestern farmhouse in a tornado.

The solar array disintegrates, the cells flying away, shingles from a roof. It’s only a matter of time before the station is opened to the vacuum of space.

In the sea of destruction, I see hope: the Soyuz capsules docked to the station. I’ll never make it there. Neither will Sergei or Stephen. Besides, each Soyuz holds only three people.

“Pearson, Bergin, Perez—get to the Soyuz docked to Rassvet. Right now. That’s an order.”

We’ve trained for this. The Soyuz can be separated from the ISS within three minutes, and on the ground in Kazakhstan within four hours.

My earpiece crackles with a voice I can’t make out. Internal comms are fried. Did they hear me? I hope so.

I have to tell the ground.

“Goddard, we are evacuating—”

The wall crashes into me and bounces me against the opposite wall. Darkness tries to swallow me.

I push off and glide through Tranquility. Unconsciousness pulls at me, but I push past it, a swimmer in an undertow fighting not to drown.

I’m trapped on the station, and it’s probably only a matter of seconds before it blows open and everything is sucked out. I have one chance at survival: an EVA suit.

I grab the closest suit, slip inside, and tether it. That will give me oxygen, electricity, comms—if they even still work.

“Goddard, do you read?”

“We read you, Commander Matthews. State your status.”

Before I can respond, the module around me explodes. Darkness finally drags me under.





Consciousness comes in waves. Sensations come with it, like an onion peeling, nothing at first, then intensity: pain, nausea, and utter silence.

I’m still tethered to the station. The module below me is split open. I see the Earth below. A block of ice covers Siberia, bearing down on China, the contrast of white and the green forests beautiful, if not for the destruction and death it represents.

Segments of the station float free like Legos tossed into space.

I don’t see either of the Soyuz capsules.

On the comm, I call out for the rest of my crew.

No response.

Then the ground stations.

No response.

I try to estimate whether the Earth is getting larger or smaller.

If larger, I’m in a decaying orbit. I’ll burn up.

If smaller, I’ve broken free of Earth’s gravity. I’ll float into space. Suffocate when my oxygen runs out. Or, if the station provides oxygen long enough, starve.





Chapter 4





James





I lunge and grab Marcel’s arm. My weight isn’t enough to bring the massive man down, but it’s enough to get the knife away from Pedro’s neck.

The guard twists out of Marcel’s grip, pulls something out of his pocket, and jabs it into Marcel’s side.

I feel an electric jolt go through me. Marcel convulses. The knife falls to the linoleum floor, and Marcel and I follow, two sacks of potatoes dropping.

I’m pretty sure it’s illegal for Pedro to have an electric stun gun in here. But I’m glad he does.