Page 47 of Bound by Stars

Jupiter

Six days to Mars

Skye offers a hand, pulling me off the floor. Both of us hit the ground hard when the artificial gravity came back. ILSA stayed magnetically connected to the ship and held onto Tar beside her, so he could keep working on the door control.

“Where’s Asha?” I scan the area.

She’s not by Tar and ILSA anymore. Did she drift down the hall?

“Up here!”

Right above me, she hangs from a beam on the high ceiling. I step aside, and, before I can figure out how to help her down, she drops. Hitting the floor, she bends her knees and then stands upright, checking herself over for injuries.

The knocking and screams grow louder behind the emergency door. I don’t want to imagine what happened with that many people in one space.

Skye shakes her head. “Tar, what’s the likelihood of that happening again?”

“The system probably won’t reboot again, but it depends on how much damage it’s sustained. We really need to get off this ship.”

Weslie comes running in from the giant, tree-filled room, passing over the blackened strip of the hallway and skidding in the extinguisher fluid.

“You’re bleeding.” I catch her, pull my sleeve over my palm, and dab her forehead, leading her to a bench at the side of the hall.

“I’m fine.” She brushes her hair over the gash. “How’s the door coming along?”

“I’ve almost got it,” Tar calls back. “Where’s Curran?”

“Curran…” She pauses, going stiff in my arms as her gaze flicks toward Tar. “The bridge. He was knocked out when the gravity shut off.”

There’s something she’s not saying.

“Finish this, Wes. I’m going after him.” Tar’s hands fall away from the panel, and he rushes past us through the arboretum.

Asha looks to her brother and then the rest of us.

Skye grabs her hand. “None of us should be running around this ship alone right now!”

“Both of you, go after him. It’s probably better fewer of us are here when this door opens.” I nod down the hall. “Meet us at the second-class pod bay. We’ll get them out.”

Asha and Skye both glance back to the door their friends and family are trapped behind and then follow Tar.

Weslie pulls away from me and runs to ILSA. “I got it from here. Go help them. They’ll never make it to the pod bay trying to carry Curran.” She turns to the control panel, finishing Tar’s work.

The door rumbles, sliding up slowly.

A few people duck under, sprinting past us.

When it gets to eye level, the rest of the passengers rush out.

I step onto the bench, waving my hands in the air.

“Everyone stay calm. We have a better chance of getting off the ship if—” My voice is drowned out by screams, yelling, and pounding footsteps.

Weslie climbs up beside me. Someone knocks into the bench, and she grabs my shoulder for balance.

Where the hall narrows, everyone fights to get through, jamming up the exit.

“Please, listen to me. We can get out of here if we’re strategic—”

“Oh my god.” Weslie’s eyes widen.

I follow her horrified stare into the emptying corridor. There’s someone on the floor in the back of the room, motionless. The crowd drains out, revealing six bodies in its wake, either trampled or knocked out in the gravity shift.

Weslie leaps off the bench, pushes through the crowd, and kneels next to the closest of the six. The man is lying in a pool of blood. She presses two fingers to his neck and leans her ear close to his mouth. When she rises, she meets my gaze and shakes her head.

The girl in the very back of the room coughs and pushes herself up from the floor. She presses a hand to her forehead, looking around like she’s not sure where she is. She follows the crowd, limping behind them like a dazed zombie.

I jump off the bench and run to a middle-aged woman with bleach-blond hair lying against the wall.

When I move her hair from her face, her head turns limply.

I know her. Ms. Earnshaw’s ice-blue eyes are open and unfocused.

I check for a pulse, but she’s already cold.

I search the crowd for Mr. Earnshaw, but no one is waiting.

On the other side of the corridor, someone with short purple hair places a hand on Weslie’s shoulder like a crutch.

He’s still two heads taller, even hunched over to examine the dark stains on his vest that extend into red splatter across his white collared shirt.

Moving in slow motion, he lifts his head, blinking wildly. His eyes widen.

“I don’t think it’s your blood,” Weslie assures him, still examining his wounds.

“The pods.” Shoving her away, he runs for the arboretum.

Weslie frowns and moves to the other man on her side of the corridor.

I hurry back to the last of them, sliding to my knees beside her.

She’s curled up in a fetal position, light brown hair covering her face. Tightening her arms around her knees, she lets out a small whimper.

“Are you hurt?” I touch her shoulder.

“Jupe?” Meridian unravels. Her arms hook around my neck. She squeezes me so tight she’s cutting off my air supply.

“Meridian!” Hale breaks out of the back of the tightly packed crowd.

They’ve hardly made any progress. People are yelling, shouting, and shoving. Funneling slowly through the hall like water in a clogged pipe.

Meridian pulls back, suddenly remembering herself, and pushes me away. “Don’t touch me.”

My pleasure. I raise my hands, standing and backing away as Hale pulls her to the back of the crowd.

Weslie takes my hand.

“This is chaos. They’re too panicked. We have to get to the pod bay.”

The floor and walls vibrate, and the overhead lights flicker.

She sighs. “Looks like the only way out is through.”