Page 49 of Bound by Stars

Jupiter

Six days to Mars

At the top of the stairwell, we pass a wide-eyed man with droplets of blood splattered across his face and shirt.

He marks every person who passes with his frantic gaze like he’s waiting for someone who may never catch up.

The horrific sounds echo in my head. Crunching bones. Bodies tearing between branches.

I squeeze Weslie’s hand, reminding myself she’s still with me as we pass the dining room and through the door to the sublevels. As we descend the steps, my arm extends over the growing gap between us.

Behind me, she’s slowing down, her feet barely moving.

“Wes,” I call out over the bouncing echoes in the cavernous stairwell.

Her head snaps back toward me. Dull, watery eyes meet mine. Her face has gone pale. She parts her lips but doesn’t say anything. Rubbing her forehead, she looks back over her shoulder.

“Wes, are you all right?”

She gives a sharp nod. “Yes, I’m…I’m sorry. Let’s go.”

At the next landing, the entrance to the second-class escape pods is packed so tight that no one can move. First-class passengers shove and fight to get through, half of them with blood-streaked faces. Panicked expressions. Dozens of people openly sobbing. The aftermath of a massacre.

Stuck halfway down the stairs, I crouch to peer through the gap between the doorway and the heads of others blocking our way, but I can’t see past the blockage of bodies.

“Asha?” Weslie calls over the crowd. No response.

“Curran?” I yell. Nothing. I try again. But they aren’t here.

A screech rips through the chaos. “Stop pushing!”

“You’ll crush us all, and no one will get off the ship!” Another booming voice quiets the crowd before it erupts again.

Weslie leans close to my ear, keeping her voice low. “There’s another level of pods. Reve showed me. One floor down.”

I nod, trying to cut into the crowd below, but shoulders slam together in front of me like an iron gate. “Excuse me.”

“Wait your turn!” a woman snaps, shoving me back into Weslie.

She catches me, keeping me on my feet.

“We’re never going to make it through.”

She presses her ribs to the handrail, inspecting the gap between where we stand and the level of stairs below us. “I have an idea.”

I don’t think I’m going to like this.

Her shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath, and she swings a leg over the slanted railing.

I catch her forearm. “What the hell are you doing?”

“We have to get down there,” she says under her breath. Her gaze flicks up toward the anxious crowd jamming the stairway behind me, and she forces a smile. “We’re going to have to get creative.”

She lowers her feet, one after the other, to the outer edge of the metal steps. Nothing stands between her and an open drop through a floors-deep cavern.

Oh, god. She’s going to climb across to the next flight. It’s too far. She’ll never make it.

I wrap my arms around her, holding her against the bars between us. “Let me go first.”

She frowns, huffing out a strained laugh. “I grew up climbing trees, and you grew up dreaming about them. I think I’m a little more qualified.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“We don’t have any other options.” She places a hand on my neck, and I hold on tighter, afraid she’ll slip any second.

“Jupiter, it’s one level down. All we need to do is get past this bottleneck and the path is virtually empty.

But we need to do it before anyone else realizes there are more pods below us. ”

I raise my eyes from the chasm behind her, and her lips are on mine, strong and full.

She pushes my forehead with hers, gently shoving me back. “Let me go.”

Exhaling, I hesitantly release my grip as she lowers herself into a squat.

Holding onto the bottom railing, she leans out across the four-foot gap and grabs the top of a handrail on the flight of stairs below ours.

I drop down and grab hold of her forearm with both hands. Someone tries to shove past me down the steps, but I tense my body against the force, keeping my focus on Weslie.

Bracing herself, arms stretched across the divide and grip white-knuckled on the rail below her, she swings her feet down to the other side.

Muscles tight, I stay frozen in place, not breathing, not blinking, watching every movement, and silently begging her not to slip.

Her feet find the outer edge of the lower set of stairs, and she loosens her grip on the bar next to me.

“It’s okay, Jupe. I’ve got this.”

Against all my instincts, I release my grip. My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out the shouting and fighting and desperate calls for missing people.

She lets go, pulling her body to the other side.

Made it. But I can’t take a full breath until she’s over the bars, safely on the steps.

Looking back, she widens her eyes like she can’t believe she didn’t fall. Her lips stretch into a full smile. “I made that look easy.”

“Celebrate when you’re not dangling off a ledge, please.”

She laughs, keeping a firm grip and leaning over the top of the railing so it’s pressed to the center of her chest.

Two voices grow louder on the packed landing between us. The herd sways and lurches, crushing people against the walls and bouncing off each other.

“Pipe down, you two,” someone shouts. Elbows and fists fly above the chaos.

Weslie hugs the handrail and lifts a leg over.

The crowd expands, sending people stumbling down the stairs toward Weslie. I pop up, leaning out like I could grab her, but there’s too much distance.

A man falls down the steps, tumbling toward her.

Before Wes can shift her weight to the safe side, he knocks her off balance. Her body falls back over the rail, toward the open drop.

I grip my hair with both hands.

Her body slams into the lower bar of the railing, arms and legs still wrapped around the top. Holding tight, she hangs over the long drop.

On the platform below, the man rolls into the wall with a heavy thwack .

“I’m all right.” She unhooks her ankle, finding the outer edge of the stairs again, and heaves herself over. Turning back, she leans out and reaches out her hand. “Come on. Your turn.”

I glance at the landing, still packed with too many people, shouting and fighting and pushing to get through. Still blocked. Shaking my head, I step over.

“Good, good. Now lower down and reach across. It’s not as far as it looks.”

When I grab the bar next to her, she locks her hands around my forearm.

“Now your feet.”

Loud clanking footsteps beat against the stairs above and behind me. I freeze, suspended over the dark void. I clench my fingers tighter. More people pour into the congested stairwell. A couple whispers to each other, eyeing our escape route like they’re waiting to see if I survive.

“Hurry.” Weslie squeezes my arm.

I jump down and pull myself across, slamming my chest against the handrail. Weslie grabs hold of my shirt as I scramble over as fast as I can move.

Behind me, two people step over the guardrail to follow.

A tremor rolls through the ship, rattling the steel under our feet. Weslie and I both grip the railing and huddle together. The wail of tearing metal cuts through a chorus of panicked cries. A thunderous boom rips through the stairwell, vibrating deep in my chest.

Something slams into the bars next to us. Weslie recoils, losing her balance, but I catch her and tuck her against my shoulder.

A descending scream is cut short by a sickening crack. Increasingly quieter thuds and clunks echo up through the stairwell as the sounds of the crumbling vessel go quiet. When the shaking stops, I look back. Only one person clings to the outside of the railing where two stood before.

The crowd behind us grows louder. More yelling. More fighting.

“We have to move,” Weslie whispers, eyeing the angry herd.

We hurry down the stairs, stepping over the unconscious man on the landing, and descend the next flight. A bright red splatter on the outer edge of the middle step makes my insides twist. I avert my eyes and move faster, following Weslie to the empty level below.

Ahead of me, Wes slaps the door button.

Inside, a smaller crowd of people dressed in worn clothing is piled into the second escape pod bay past a row of red lights over sealed doors. Dark space and stars fill the windows in between. All the pods are gone, aside from one. The single green light glows over the unmoving pack.

I scan the faces. Sun-stained and tired. Second-class passengers. Our friends aren’t here. Maybe they got out.

“Back up, all of you!”

“Gianna?” I rise onto my toes and find the familiar face, blotchy and beaded with sweat like she’s had to fight her way here. Blocking the open door to the last pod, she meets my gaze over the crowd, holding a gun steady in her grip.