FULL NOVELXO Chapter FAILING (PART 1)
The combination of hunger, thirst and cold has wiped the former depressive state from my mind. Now it’s pure survival. I recognise that this little probe in front of us represents our only hope of living until help arrives. If it ever does. I am aware that calling it Salvation is extraordinarily hopeful. All he’s going to do is take us to moisture. It may not even be drinkable water.
Even if we do find water, I don’t know what we’re going to eat. There’s nothing but dirt, rocks and wind in all directions. Despite that, Salvation says there is moisture and I believe him. I find myself mesmerised by his little screen, showing the distance left that we have to walk. It’s the only hope I have. I don’t know how the Purlinians are coping or what they’re thinking.
At least they are warmer than I am.
I have four layers on and I’m still feeling the cold. Arlyss and Cindlyss won’t be cold at least. I know the suits will totally insulate them and retain their body warmth, providing the protection from the cold that I’m not getting.
They still appear to be under extreme duress, however.
It seems to be the exertion, the lack of food and the minimal amount of water they’ve had in the last few days. We stopped an hour or so ago and drank. They had a full vial between them. I had half of one of mine. I have one and half vials left. They have four full ones. It took all of our collective restraint to not drink more. I almost think it would have been better not to drink at all than to only have a taste of heaven and then deny ourselves any more. But that’s what we did.
We don’t know what we’ll find at the end of our forty-five-kilometre walk. It may be our death if there’s no drinkable water. We have to conserve our remaining vials anyway until we get there. Or at least try to. It’s so hard.
The wind and cold makes my throat dry. The exertion of walking across the rock-covered ground and making sure I don’t trip is draining. I also have to keep an eye on Arlyss and Cindlyss. They are not built for this sort of physical punishment. On top of all that I have to carry the panels I grabbed from Nikse. They act like a sail half the time and keeping myself from being blown away is a major struggle. It’s sapping my strength. I try not to think of all of my troubles. It’s all I can do to keep going, following my probe.
I look at Salvation’s readout again. I can barely see it because he’s slowly getting ahead of us again. Periodically he stops and bleeps pitifully, waiting for us. We’re so slow. He’s now stopped again and I can make out the numbers on the distance readout as we approach.
Twenty-eight-point-six-nine kilometres to go. We’re not even half-way. It’s so disheartening. Yet we have no choice but to keep going. We trudge along for a few more hours through the biting cold and the non-stop wind. I hate this planet.
It’s getting slightly darker but I’m guessing there’s an hour or two of daylight left. We have to use it. However, my legs ache. If that’s the case, the Purlinians must be near total exhaustion. We’ve had lots of rest breaks because the walking is so hard. The unstable, rock-covered ground makes each footstep difficult, and the constant buffeting of the wind multiplies that difficulty several times.
Stopping is a blessed relief. We are able to sit, wedge the panels between some rocks, and spend some blissful minutes out of the wind. I reach for the bag of vials but a quick look from Arlyss and I know it’s not the time to have more water.
We sit for what seems like an hour. Maybe it is. Then we’re up on our feet again, fighting all sorts of urges to give in and just die here in this spot where we were resting.
I break down our temporary little camp, pick up the panels and begin trudging after Salvation again, checking that the Purlinians are doing the same. They are. I don’t know how.
I find myself once again regretting my decisions. All of them. I run through them backwards, chronologically. Leaving the shelter of the ship. Choosing to go into Melcheisa. Volunteering to be a galactic explorer. Leaving my parents. All wrong decisions. Why couldn’t I have seen this coming? How could I have been so naïve?
I know this is self-defeating talk. I know I must overcome these negative thoughts. My resistance is weakening, though, and I’m giving into them more and more.
Sleep might help. It’s now getting really dark anyway. We stop again, this time for the night. Salvation seems to know our intentions and circles back around, coming to rest right near us. His readout says that we have twenty-one-point-two-six kilometres to go. We are more than halfway. I am thankful for this small victory.
I use Salvation’s light to make a temporary shelter. It’s just a pile of rocks, holding the two panels in place against the prevailing wind. At least that’s one thing we’re not short of: rocks. I’m just about out on my feet, though, after constructing it. The shelter works well as a windbreak and we can lay down in the dirt and try to sleep. It’s going to be decidedly uncomfortable but at least we’re not walking any more.
I look directly at Arlyss and Cindlyss, getting in front of each of them so that I can see their expressions through the masks of the suits. They look vastly discomfited, but they have resolve. I can feel it and sense it. This gladdens me, and I try to let it show on my face, that I’m appreciative of their attitude and fortitude, so that they can see my approval and gain even more resolve. I’m not sure I’ve succeeded because I can’t read their expressions clearly through their suit masks. I still don’t know how they are coping physically. Even more baffling is how they seem to know something deeper about this whole experience.
It happened back there on the deck of Nikse when we were first captured by that horrible IR84U ship and its even nastier captain. These two seem to know something about our present circumstances that I can’t quite grasp, and they’re still believing in it. I don’t know how because our situation is desperately grave.
Against our better judgement, we drink more water. Now there’s two vials left for them and one for me. It’s a calculated risk, but I want us to sleep well, and the water might help.
I lay down on the dirt, make a pillow out of some of my spare clothes that I’ve been carrying in my backpack, and try to sleep. The Purlinians cuddle with me again. I relish that. We are all warmer as a result. Relatively warmer, that is. It’s still bitterly cold and near freezing. How lovely. I also haven’t washed in almost a week and that feels horrible too. Our situation is wretched and dire. That’s putting it mildly.
Strangely enough, I do actually sleep. My exhaustion is so great that I give into sleep immediately, irrespective of the discomfort level of sleeping directly on the hard soil. I hope for another Nikse dream before I fall asleep but I am out of luck. My dreams are dark and indistinct and I can’t recall anything when I wake periodically during the night.
As soon as the morning light strikes, I am on my feet. The Purlinians are too. We have nothing else to do today but get up somehow, and keep walking, following Salvation.
My legs complain at having to walk again, and it seems even harder to carry the panels than before. Each rest stop is easier because we have shelter, so I have to suck it up and deal with the physical discomfort of carrying them.
After a few hours of walking and several more stops, I begin to wonder if we’ll make it. My vision is starting to blur. Total exhaustion is nearing for me also. I’m fixated on Salvation all the time now, just wondering why those numbers aren’t decreasing faster.
I can barely read them. Twelve-point-six-five kilometres to go. Is this our fourth or seventh stop today? I can’t remember anything. I worry about my ability to do basic math because I can barely think normally any more.
My hands have not even been remotely warm since we left the ship. I have two sets of gloves on, but the effort of carrying the panels has not allowed me to keep my hands and fingers warm enough. The problem now is that I’m starting to lose feeling in my fingers. I suspect I may be getting frostbite. There’s nothing else for it.
We have to lose the panels.
I put them down on the surface and gesture to the Purlinians. I’m pretty sure they don’t understand me this time. I point to the panels and then my hands. I shove them in my pockets. I have no idea if they’re understanding my visual communication. I’m not bothering to speak because they’ll never hear me over the wind and through the suits.
I leave the panels there on the ground. A gust of wind arrives, just as it has a thousand times before. The panels are lifted off the ground by this gust and now they’re gone, cartwheeling across the surface of this horrendous planet. At least the decision is now irreversible. Nonetheless, we’re in a dire situation. Our reserves of strength are almost gone, and now we have no windbreak for our rest stops.
The last stretch of this long, long walk will have to done in the wind the whole time, with no respite.