Page 18 of A Long Way Home

“I saw it.” I wonder aloud.

“Saw what?” he asks.

“Straight through. Right in front of me.”

I hear thunder along the corridor. A series of thuds against metal.

“Alex, you aren’t making much sense. What happened?” Müller asks.

The thudding grows closer, merging with the pounding of my heart.

“Meteor.”

“Sheisse.”

A rush of blonde hair appears. Matthias quickly pulls away and is back at the console keyboard.

“Alex?Mio Dio, you scared me. Are you hurt?”

Müller ignores Luca. “Mein Herz. I promise you, I will get you out of there.”

Luca’s eyes widen, blanching as he processes whatever information the computer console has displayed. Even pressing my face closer to the glass doesn’t quite get me the right angle to read it.

Scrubbing one hand through his blonde hair, his eyes dart between me, the air-locked hatch, and the console. He’s panicking. Whereas Müller?

He’s cool as a cucumber. Jumping straight into action. His clever fingers glide over the console’s keyboard as his eyes skim over lines, upon lines, of reports – the red lines of text mirrored in his black pupils.

Trust me.” Matthias says as he puts his hand back on the glass against my palm. He scans my face as if etching it to memory before he speaks into the comms.

“The system is detecting a hull breach inside Columbus. They’re leaking atmosphere. Heat pumpsdisabled. Automated emergency containment procedures in place. The system won’t let me override.”

The panic I was holding back flows free. Nausea rises in my stomach. Tears prick at my eyes as I attempt to steady myself. The hard metal of my prison walls scrapes against my back as I push myself against it.

steady myself. The hard metal of my prison walls scrapes against my back as I push myself against it.

I collapse along the wall into a crumpled heap, floating a few inches from the metal paneling. Embracing the fetal position.

I am going to die.

In space. Less than 12 hours before I’m due home. The universe is a cruel mistress.

A harsh laugh erupts from me. Luca looks concerned. Müller is back at the console, tapping away.

Luca lowers into a crouch on the other side of the door, level with my ball of despair. The thin strip of glass allows us to see each other.

“It’s okay.” Though his concern wears deeper with each passing second. Frown lines form like small crevices across his forehead and wrinkle around his eyes.He doesn’t think I’m making it out of here.

“How is Chelenko ?” Matthias asks.

A distraction technique, but it’s bloody working.Work-mode Alex can survive anything.

I swipe the tears from my eyes, the salty water floating away in small spheres. I’msniffling as I look over to Chelenko. His eyes are shiny, and his lips are contorted in a grimace.

“Wire cutters sticking out his gut.” Luca winces at my callous words. “Head injury, too,” I add.

Luca plucks an ornate cross from beneath his grey t-shirt, rubbing his thumb over the worn metal – the gold rubbed smooth from past worries. He mutters a prayer under his breath before he signs the cross over his chest and finally gives the metal crucifix a chaste kiss.

“It’s not as bad as all that. Is it?” I jest, still on the precipice of hysteria. Or perhaps I can blame it on the dwindling oxygen supply.

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