Airlock

Indigo lives in an American colony on the moon. She has her whole life. But, when her best friend's birthday is the victim of a terroristic plot, they have to make hard choices to survive.

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2. The Last Transport

 

                We all stop everything. We’re too shocked to even move. Vega breaks the silence. “Well, we should tell everyone.”

                “No, we shouldn’t.” Dodger says. “That’s the last thing we need to do.” Oh, God. I forgot. I dragged Dodger into this.

                We decide to search for the woman in charge. Axel knows about this kind of stuff. Maybe he can help. We all stand and push through the massive groups of people. Everyone looks terrified. I can hear Vega starting to cry. My eyes start to adjust to the darkness and the visions are horrifying. People push, shove, and grab a hold of our clothing. They’re desperate for some sort of comfort.

                We make it to the other end of the room. Vega is a mess. Zoey is starting to crack, and I feel hot tears on my face.

                “Axel, I have two hundred guests, and seventy- five workers here.” Zoey says, her voice cracking. “How long will we be able to breathe?”

                Axel closes his eyes and moves his hand around, as if he’s counting. “I’m not a mathematician, but I’d say between two and four hours.”

                Vega chokes loudly. “The doors won’t open for five.” She says between sobs. I look franticly at Axel. We have to find the woman, now.

                We run down a wide hallway to what appears to be office space. We run from one to the next, trying to pry them open. We continue until I see a plaque that read, “Emmanuelle Richards, Head of Department.” I scream the name out to them.

                “That could be her.” Dodger said. Axel and Dodger push against the door until it breaks open. Inside, a group of adults sit at the table, deliberating. One stands and tries to push us out. We all protest and shout, until Zoey finally speaks up.

                “No! No, it’s my party. I deserve to know what’s going on. This boy,” She says, grabbing Axel’s wrist and lifting it. “Knows everything about this building. He’s a junior architect and he can help.” They all look skeptical, but they ask him if it’s true. He nods. A gruff looking man at the table stands slowly. He doesn’t say a word, but he takes us down a different hallway, to a destroyed looking mechanism. Axel gasps and we all look at him, confused. “That is the backup generator.” The man says.

                “We have spoken with the President. Three G20 countries have locked down their borders. We aren’t sure who did this, but it is an assumed terroristic plot. There is no way to get help to us within the estimated three hours of air we have left.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

                We all stop and look at our feet. “So, there is nothing we can do?” I ask, quietly.

                “We have one transport that was opened before this happened. It can hold, maybe, five people. We’re trying to figure out a diplomatic way to get around this. We are probably going to draw names.”

                Five people. Five out of two hundred and seventy five will leave this party.

                “Can’t we open the doors?” Dodger whispers.

                “We don’t have the supplies or manpower. The doors are designed to be inoperable in a terroristic situation, to keep the assailants out. Or, if they are in the building, keep them in, so no one else can be affected.” We all sit against the wall. We’re going to die.

                A communication devise at the man’s belt makes a noise. “We’ve chosen.” He looks at us, sympathetically. “What are the names?” He asks the machine.

                We all stop everything, even breathing. The devise makes another noise.

                “Hunter Rubble. Deka Belle. Liza Ray. Vega Cruz. Gregory Rodgers.”

                We all look at Vega. She’s sobbing into her lap.

 

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