Gwendy’s Final Task

It’s a nasty trick on Gwendy’s part and she knows it—but she has no regrets. “Don’t be. Please. It was a lovely thought and I’m glad I had it.” She thumbprints her iPad and the blank screen flashes to life. “I just wish I had better control over when those sort of memories resurface. It can be a bit … embarrassing.”

“Please, don’t be. I’m sure you miss her terribly.”

Gwendy sighs. “And you would be right about that.” She musters a half-hearted smile. “To tell the truth, I’m more embarrassed that it’s my first day in the up-above and I’m already off-schedule.” She studies the read-out on her iPad. “I’m not due for a sleep break for another six hours.”

Adesh wrinkles his brow and pish-toshes her. “You took a twenty-minute nap. So what?” He looks around furtively and gives his stomach a couple of gentle pats. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. It’s still an hour or so until my first designated meal, and I’ve already snuck two protein bars.”

“You did no so thing!”

“I most assuredly did.”

She takes a peek at the level above them. “You better not let the boss hear you say that.”

“What happens on third level stays on third level,” he says, shrugging his shoulders against the restraining belts.

Gwendy puts a hand to her mouth and stifles a giggle. Throughout the four weeks of intense training and twelve days of close-quarters quarantine, she’s gotten to know several of her fellow crewmembers rather intimately. While Kathy Lundgren and Bern Stapleton are like old and trusted friends by now, she feels like she’s barely scratched the surface with many of the others, including the Indian gentlemen they call the Bug Man. She knows that Adesh Patel is quiet and polite and brilliant. He’s traveled the world and speaks several languages. He’s happily married to a beautiful woman named Daksha, which means “The Earth” in their traditional culture, and they have twin fourteen-year-old sons. She’s seen a number of photographs, and the family is always smiling. She also knows that neither of the boys wants to follow in their parents’ footsteps and become doctors. Instead, they’re determined to become professional baseball players with lucrative shoe contracts and seven-digit social media followings—a fact the humble entomologist admits often keeps him awake at night.

After today Gwendy believes she’s learned something else, something very important, about Adesh Patel. He has a kind heart to go along with his kind chestnut eyes, and she likes him a great deal. She believes she can trust him on this journey—and she needs all the allies she can get. Even those—perhaps even especially those—with a pet scorpion and a creepy tarantula.

Across the deck, Gareth Winston begins snorting in his sleep, a cacophony of wet, gurgling, slobbering sounds, not unlike what you might hear from a pair of horny prize hogs going at it in the midst of rutting season.

Gwendy and Adesh gape in astonishment at the blubbering billionaire, then glance at each other and crack up. Jafari looks up from his iPad. “What? What did I miss?” The mystified expression on the astronomer’s face makes them laugh even harder. “What? Tell me.”

There’s a sudden buzzing sound and Kathy Lundgren’s amused face appears on the middle screen of the three overhead monitors. “Hate to be a buzzkill, folks, but some of us are trying to get a little work done up here.” She gives them a friendly wink. “A little quieter, please.”

“My apologies,” Gwendy says, her cheeks flushing. “I started the whole thing.”

“No worries, Senator. I’m glad you’re enjoying the trip.”

Kathy’s face disappears from the screen, and is immediately replaced by a series of data charts and multi-colored graphs.

“What’s all the ruckus about?”

The three crew members turn and stare across the deck. Gareth Winston is rubbing sleep from his eyes with one chubby, balled-up fist. His usually neat short brown hair is sticking up in sweaty spikes. Before any of them can manage an answer, he whips his head around and peers excitedly out the nearby porthole. His porthole. “Hey! Are we there yet?”

17

THE MORNING AFTER RICHARD Farris’s surprise Thanksgiving visit dawned clear and cold in the town of Castle Rock, Maine. Overnight, a storm sweeping across the upper half of the state took an unexpected dip to the south and slowed its roll just long enough to clip Castle County on its way out to sea, dropping six inches of wet snow on the frozen streets and lawns. Gwendy could hear the plows working even before she opened her eyes.

Slipping out of bed shortly before seven, after a brief stint of troubled sleep, Gwendy got dressed in the dark and left her husband dreaming peacefully beneath the covers. Before she stepped into the hallway, she took a single backward glance at the only man she’d ever truly loved. No more secrets after today, she silently promised, easing the door closed behind her.