The Mammoth Book of Apocalyptic SF - Mike Ashley [116]
Paulie went down on his backside, hands covering his face. When he took them away, there was plenty of blood, and I could see his nose was knocked crooked, broken maybe. "Ow!" He looked up at me, blood running from both nostrils, crossing his lips, dripping off his chin and down his chest, and started to cry.
That's heaven for you.
With nothing left but the survival capsule, with it getting colder and then colder still, all that was left was for us to dig out the Cat and try to drive cross-country to the National Redoubt. All the way to Colorado. You think maybe they'll let us in now? Jesus.
We made it all of a hundred miles, I think.
Much over fifteen miles an hour and the fucking thing would buck and jerk and roll, Paulie bitching he couldn't make sense of the computer screen, Julia pissing and moaning and claiming she needed to puke. We stopped for a break, Connie complaining she needed to get out of the suit, went on, stopped for lunch, went on again ...
Maybe ten hours like that, and I was actually asleep when it happened.
I don't know. Paul was driving, Connie navigating, and there was a reek of piss in the cabin. Maybe it was the distraction Julia made once she figured out she could get the ISS ham frequency on the Cat's radio.
ISS in the sky!
This is us on the ground!
HALP\ HALLLP!
I remember I woke up in something like zero gee, floating inside my suit, head spinning weirdly to the sight of Paulie on the ceiling, Julia screaming, Connie screaming, all these crash-tinkle noises and crumpling sounds and we're rolling down a God damn hilU
We came to a stop right-side up, lights out.
Julia sobbing.
Everybody else quiet.
Listen carefully.
The soft throb of the diesel at idle, softer pop and huff of the air valves, feeding the engine from all those SCUBA tanks in the trailer, the compressor, the vaporizer, the hamper of oxygen snow...
Okay. Good. Nothing's broken.
Listen carefully.
No hissing noises?
"Paulie?"
"I'm all right."
Great. Who gives a fuck? I wish you were dead, Paulie. "Put on the lights."
A clattering sound. "The switch is on. Must be broken."
"Swell. Connie?"
"Here, Scott."
I got my ass on the bench seat and squirmed over somebody. There was a sweet, pissy smell, and Connie said, "Scott."
"Sorry." I rummaged in the junk on the floor, fishing in canvas tote bags, until I found a flashlight. Click. Yellow light picked out Paul's face, staring from the open visor of his space suit. "Scrunch down."
I got close to the window and shone the light outside. Sheer, irregular white walls on both sides, a narrowing vee of open space in front. "Shit."
Connie said, "What's out there, Scott?"
"We're in a fucking gully."
Paul made some little choking sound. "I'm ... I didn't see ..."
"Move your ass out of the way."
I got in the driver's seat, got my feet on the pedals, engaged tracks and tires, and hit the gas. The engine grumbled, and something lumped around outside, but we didn't budge.
Paul said, "Probably not even on the ground."
I turned and shone the flashlight on the caulked-shut zipper. Picks and shovels bolted to the sides of this thing. Maybe ... I looked at Paul. "Well. What do you think?"
He shut his eyes and looked for a second like he was holding his breath. After a bit, his lips started to move soundlessly. What the fuck, Paulie? Praying? Is that what we've got left. He opened his eyes, and said, "I'm so tired. Don't you want to try?"
Agonized look, shine in his eyes growing. Jesus, don't cry Paulie. He said, "I've got to shit."
"Well, that's a big help."
"Please, oh ... " You could actually hear the sound it made when he let go, eyes squinting, mouth in a grimace.
Connie, herself already floating in piss, snarled, "Oh, fucking Jesus!"
I grinned. "What the hell'd you fucking eat yesterday?"
"Frozen tacos."
"Smart."
I shone the light out the window again, then clicked it off.