Page 7 of HaL

I claw at the strap wrapped around me, fighting to get free, but my fingers are numb and useless. Every bone in my body feels as if it’s being ripped apart and shoved back together.

The pod screams around me. Metal groans. Alarms wail. The planet fills the viewer. And then I realize — I’m not flying toward it. I’m falling. The next thing I know, a whimper escapes my lips as pain in my arm jolts me awake.

Only to find myself hanging upside down.

Most of my body is being held in place by a random strap still hooked to the seat, while the rest of me hangs freely. Lights flash across the console, bathing the pod in an eerie, intermittent glow. Somewhere outside, I can hear what I think is the hissing of steam.

Have I landed? Am I alive?

Despite my confusion and dazed state, one thing is clear: I can’t hang here until someone decides to come looking for me. I need to see if there’s anything in this pod that might be useful and, more importantly, I need to stabilize my arm.

What feels like hours pass as I struggle to free myself. The pain radiating through my body forces me to stop repeatedly, each time just to catch my breath and gather enough strength to continue. Finally, I manage to get to my feet, although standing is a generous term. The pod is tilted heavily to one side, forcing me to brace myself against its interior just to remain upright.

I take a shaky breath and look around. Now I just need to figure out what, if anything, can keep me alive. Looking around, I don’t see any openings or drawers. I run my fingers along the edge of the seat, searching for a possible hidden compartment, a release, anything that might tell me what the hell is going on.

Nothing.

The only thing I find is the flashing lights overhead.

I sit on the edge of the chair and force myself to breathe, trying to gather my thoughts. But the throbbing in my arm makes it nearly impossible to concentrate. Every heartbeat sends another wave of pain through me. Unhooking one of the straps from the chair, I use it as a makeshift sling. The moment I move my arm, a scream tears out of me.

Tears spill down my face before I can stop them. Gritting my teeth, I wrap part of the strap around my injured arm, then bend forward and drape the rest over my shoulder, doing everything I can to keep the limb from moving.

I refuse to look at it. Whatever is wrong with it, I already know it isn’t good. By the time I’m finished, I’m panting heavily. My body feels like it’s fighting for every breath. I lean against the wall and close my eyes.

What now?

Do I try to find help?

Or do I stay here like the girl told me?

The thought of her voice telling me to stay put echoes through my head. But stay put and do what? Just wait to die?

I crawl toward the viewer. Only a few sections of the glass remain visible; most of it obscured by some strange cloudiness on the inside. Maybe I can see where I am. Maybe I can find a way out. Reaching up with my good hand, I wipe at the glass. The instant my fingers touch it, the entire thing explodes.

I jerk backward.

For one frozen second, I don’t understand what happened. Then the wind hits me. A howling, merciless blast tears through the pod, ripping the warmth from my body as though my clothes aren’t even there. I gasp and instinctively curl in on myself.

The cold is immediate.

Violent.

And somehow, after everything, I start laughing. It’s hysterical. Breathless. Completely insane. But what else am I supposed to do? My inner voice screams at me to stay inside. Instead, I climb through the shattered opening. The glass slices into my clothes and skin, but I barely notice. Most of my body is already numb. I pull myself upright and take a step away from the pod, looking around. Whatever tiny bit of hope remained inside me shatters instantly.

S N O W!

Endless blinding white stretches in every direction. Broken mountain peaks claw toward the sky, their jagged edges buried beneath layers of ice. Snow glitters beneath the light of an enormous moon or perhaps a planet hangs impossibly large overhead.

There is nothing here.

Nothing…

Massive mountains surround me on every side. Snowdrifts rise higher than buildings, their size only obvious because of the enormous scar the pod carved through them when it crashed. The landscape is harsh, unforgiving, brutal. There is nothing welcoming about it. This place doesn’t care whether I live or die.

It wasn’t designed for comfort. It wasn’t designed for survival. This is nature stripped down to its purest, cruelest form. And yet, for one strange moment, I stop. I take a deep breath. Really breathe. The air fills my lungs, cold and sharp, and I close my eyes.

It’s perfect.