Searching for Sun Chapter Six

Six

People are gonna tell you terrible things all the time, because you’re different, because you threaten their ideas and values. The trick is knowing when to bother listening.

—Sam (Rundle) Four

Cloey’s JPV

BANNED. That was a harsh word. Cloey chortled looking at Asami’s profile, a large X across the hospital ward with that B word in red next to it. The nurse had called an android to escort her all the way out of the hospital and up the stairs to her room.

Asami touched her ear, feeling Sam’s hot breath. The vision felt slippery, but his words kept replaying in her mind. No sun, and the moon is wrong, but we can still run. She revolved the words round and round until they became as shapeless as a marshmallow rolled into taffy with thumb and finger.

“What do you think it means? No sun, and the moon is wrong, but we can still run?” Asami asked.

“Were you going to kiss him or something?” Cloey asked, making smooches with her lips.

Asami rolled her eyes. She’d never told anyone, even Cloey, but Sam had tried to kiss her once. Maybe it was only a child’s kiss. But she could still feel the heat of that day.

She had been seventeen, racing Sam through the tall grass behind the colleges. Asami had reached the tree first, scaling up its thick base, but Sam had to climb higher, as if that could prove he had won something. The heat was so thick they both lay panting, sprawled across the thick sycamore branches, wide as smaller tree trunks, lazing like big cats in the shade and listening to the hum and zip of insects. Asami felt her sweat cooling and drying to salt on her sun-toasted skin. She was studying a leaf, the threadlike veins, the way the hot sun glowed through the membrane, how the edges matched, jagged ridges and little frills, the plastic feel of the upper side, and the dryness of the underside.

She’d swept her hair off her neck, letting it spill across the broad tree branch, flickering in the wind, and shading her eyes with the flat hand-sized leaf when she noticed Sam was watching her just above the edge of the leaf. His face reminded her of her own, studing the leaf, noting each little detail with minute interest.

Asami felt her head swim with the heat. Sam seemed able to take in each detail of her, which only made her study of him narrow, trapped by his brilliant eyes, glittering with refracted light; his hair, which curled and toyed with the wind, hung down around his head. He was so beautiful like that, a lazy smile across his tan mouth, the sun dappling and blurring his features. She felt her heart thunder in her chest like her blood was crashing at the foot of a waterfall with each beat, threatening to tip her right off the broad branch. He had never used that smile on her before—she had always been the kid sister. She’d seen him use it on other girls though. It terrified her now, that smile, that hot glimmer of something beyond his gaze, which made her thoughts sizzle out into smoke, her body charging up as though she were preparing to run, yet her muscles seemed incapable of even the easiest task. She thought she could feel the intent of that stare, turning from study to amusement, as though he knew what it was doing to her and was enjoying it.

“You look like you just ate a bug.” Sam leaned further out over his branch to look down at her.

She realized she was scowling at him as that sly smile turned into a full belly laugh, and he almost did roll off the branch above her and crush her, his arms catching himself as though he had meant to swing down, floating above her easily. All the same, she slid up the branch towards the trunk of the tall tree so his feet would land on branch instead of her less durable stomach.

“Where to now?” Sam landed lightly, his arms still gripping the upper branch for balance as he stepped like a tightrope walker until his bare feet touched her toes. He bent his head against the upper branch, still watching her, his smile less self aware, as he studied her expression.

Asami looked out across the hillside of rolling tall grass stalks, down towards the compound, unable to think and look at him at the same time.

“Don’t you have to go back to class?”

“If I graduate without ever having played hooky, I’ll regret it all my life.” His leg slid against hers, the hair on his calf tickling her as he scooted along the branch to the trunk by her. He paused crouched beside her, and then leaned his face in, slowly, as though going slow was his way of asking permission.

She wanted to. She wanted to be still for hours with him so close, to let his lips touch her own. But she had known Sam too long. She knew the look in his eye, it was the same look he had when he first saw Valarie, and she had to tug him out of the way from walking into a pole. He hadn’t really thought this through. So, she smiled instead, and shoved him so hard he fell off the branch, onto the grassy dirt.

He barked a laugh, landing easily with just a flash of consternation before he rolled to a stop, laying there looking up at her, his hand eventually reaching back to rub his head. She looked down at him now. It wasn’t really that long a drop. When he eventually stood, his face was even with her own.

“You know you want to kiss me.” He leaned on his forearm, his face once more inches from hers, his breath minty, like he had prepared for this.

“Oh, I do,” Asami said brazenly, trying to be brave to keep the fear out of her face as she looked back into those deep eyes.

“Scared?” he taunted her, moving closer still.

Asami sat up on the branch smiling up at the hot sun in her face. “I’m waiting for the big haul.” She stretched and slid off the branch to land beside him.

“What?” He looked a little annoyed now.

Asami grinned, and it was her turn to lean close to him, smiling her own challenge. “I’m waiting for you.” She shoved him lightly. “I don’t want to be another Kaly, or Stephanie, or Val to you. I’m waiting for you to get serious, Samuel Rundle.” She grabbed his shirt collar then, and very lightly kissed his cheek.

Well, she had meant to kiss his cheek. But he turned, the corner of their lips meeting.

He barked a laugh at her surprise. She smiled through a glare and tripped him, sliding her foot behind his as she shoved. Then she ran. Her fingers tracing the corner of her mouth.

Asami smiled at the memory, but kissing seemed remote and distant as the sight of Sam’s green skin erased the heat of that day. She remembered the warm feeling of his hands just moments ago. He had been feverish. And that thing, in the vision—it had gone for his neck, wanting to kill Sam.

Cloey’s snorts of laughter snapped off. “Oh, Asami, I . . .”

“What is it?” Asami sat up on her knees. “Is there an update?”

Cloey looked at her with wide, horrified eyes.

“Tell me.” Asami’s voice was barely audible in her own ears. Had they hurt Sam more? Were they using him as a guinea pig, like he had told her they would?

“He’s dead, Asami, Sam’s dead.” Cloey’s face looked white as paper.

Asami stood, shaking her head. “That’s not funny.”

Cloey reached out to touch her. “I’m sorry, Asami. He’s dead.”

Asami felt too warm. A horrible thought entered her mind. Had she killed Sam? Had she triggard the vision?  Had it killed him? But she hadn’t hurt him, right? Of course not, he was fine. It was a different Sam.

“They have the medical evidence. He died from a pulmonary embolisim.”

“No . . .” Asami broke off, remembering the green liquid squirting from a tall needle. No, they wouldn’t have killed him.

“Asami?”

Something hot and sharp was building inside her lungs. How had she let them send her away when he needed her?

“Asami?  Where are you going!?”

She walked blindly. It was a lie. It had to be.

“Asami!”

She slapped at the door to open.

It didn’t move.

She had to get out. She screamed at the door to open.

“Oh, the witch.” Cloey ripped at a pannel next to the door. Wires spilled out. They looked like organs to Asami, purple, red and green tubes.

Asami slapped the door sensor harder.

“Don’t do that sweetie, it’s locked. I can’t bypass it on this side.”

Cloey was pulling at her, arms wrapped around her middle.

“It’s locked, Asami.”

She pounded harder, until her hand ached, until it felt like her bones were bruised.

“Stop it! Heidi has locked you in Asami.”

“She can’t do that. She can’t—”

“What are you going to do? They won’t let you back into the hospital. You’re banned.”

“I hate her.”

“I hated her first.”

“She can’t do this.”

Cloey was scanning her, checking her vitals.

Asami turned away, a hot stinging building up behind her eyes, threatening to spill out of her. She had to see him. She reached back for the tablet and scanned the report. They were all family on this ship, everyone had a right to know why, when someone died. Cloey went quiet.

Asami tried to replay the scene in her mind. It all seemed tangled. She had wanted to make sure he was treated well, that he would have someone to talk to. Some part of her had maybe even hoped she would make him better. That he would be her best friend again. But he had barely left freeze and it had done something to him; he had done something to her. She tried not to think of Sam’s heartbeat drumming against her fingers. He couldn’t be dead.

But he was. The picture the elders had attached to the announcement was Sam, Sam before freeze, his hair spilling over his too large forehead. His eyes laughing.

“When can I leave?” She could barely understand her own words, her voice was so thick sounding and small.

“I’ll report the door jam. She can’t legally keep you here, only delay you.”

Asami sat on the ground, her nose beginning to run. She hunched over her tablet, half seeing the words as she scrolled down, letting her shirt absorb the tears that she didn’t stopper with the edges of her sleeves. Her breath was coming in sharp, ragged noises. The report floated before her eyes word by word like swarming ants. Her legs went numb, and her breath became quiet eventually. Her fingers sore from gripping the pad too tightly for too long.

“You’re going to read that report to death.” Cloey ran small cool fingers through Asami’s hair.

Asami leaned her head back against the bed, letting Cloey see her puffy red eyes and nose.

“Every time you scan the report, it flashes through my mind too you know. I don’t want to keep reliving his death, Asami. Let it go for tonight. Re-look at it tomorrow. Forget new aesthetics, I want my own processing chip. I need some privacy in my head.”

“How could this even happen?” Asami’s voice sounded muffled and wet, but it felt good to talk reasonably.

“It’s not a simple process. There were bound to be casualties.” Cloey rolled on the floor as Asami scrolled to the top of the report again. “Stop, I can’t take anymore fatality readings. This is so depressing.”

“The Libra colony didn’t list any freeze casualties.”

“That we know of, and you’re using completely different equipment. Plus, the Libra crew was half androids.”

“It should be more advanced.” Asami surrendered the tablet into Cloey’s prying hands.

“Asami, your friend just died. You don’t have to fix this. You can’t fix it.”

Asami got up, her legs stinging and numb, both having fallen asleep on her, the undersides of her knees damp. She lay down on the bed. Her bones sank into the cushion. Sam would never see their new home. He would never see Gliese with her. His body would never make it planet-side, it would be spaced. She would never get to tell him all the things she had been waiting to say. It was all too horrible for sleep, but though she hadn’t been conscious of it during freeze, her body seemed to remember standing upright for years, and now it savored the feeling of lying down. She hadn’t been awake more than five hours, but her body tricked her into sleep, as if that were her natural state of being.

“Sorry, Asami.” Before she slept, Asami felt a small hand run through her hair inspecting it for split ends.

The funeral was all crisp uniforms and white gloves in the cargo hold near the airlocks. Sam would have hated it. The invitation was open to all, but most of Sam’s friends were in freeze. Asami brought a three-foot, thick stock of burgundy gladiolas.

Heidi had arranged for Sam’s body to be placed in a freeze pod. His own freeze pod. Detached from the wall and layed flat on top of a black clothed table, it looked like a coffin. Sam would have hated that too. Heidi, Declan, and the officers hadn’t arrived yet. A few androids were setting out large vases with heavy looking white lilies and dyed black roses. He would have liked the roses she supposed.

The hold was full of metal crates lined up in rows like some sort of warehouse. Despite the crates, the tall ceilings made it cavernous. Sam would have preferred a small, warm room with windows.

The freeze pod was closed. Asami watched the androids as Cloey opened the pod. It had no latch, just a control panel.

The lid lifted with a hiss.

The android florists didn’t even lift their heads.

Asami leaned over the pod and shivered immediately. Ice was forming on his skin. He sparkled. His hair was too neatly combed, his skin too white—except for traces of make-up someone had applied to give his cheeks color. He looked wrong. Clean, orderly, no sign of foamy drool, his eyes shut, his veins barely there.

“I’m not getting any life signs,” Cloey whispered.

Asami threw the flimsy white rose someone had tucked between Sam’s fingers over her shoulder and took his wrist. Inexplicably, she was angry with him. He had no right to die like this. She searched furiously for a pulse, her fingers digging into cold flesh.

There had to be a pulse.

There had to be a breath, someone had missed something.

He was just unconscious.

She waited for the pulse to beat back against her fingers, waited for a rattle in his chest, a slight movement.

“Sweetie, he’s brain dead.  It’s not like the freeze.”

He was gone. Really gone.

She began to shake. Tremors in her legs.

Cloey touched her arm, “Come on, sweetie, he’s gone, the guests are arriving.”

Asami tucked the huge flower stock between his hands, laying it across his chest.

As Cloey resealed the lid, Asami wanted to throw up.

Heidi entered. Asami couldn’t look at her without glaring, so she focused on Sam, her gaze falling through him. Cloey had been right. Her door had opened the next morning, in time for her work shift. She had skipped it.

A crowd gathered around her.

Heidi, Declan, Clamps, and several of Declan’s men fanned the freeze pod.

Asami didn’t think she could do this. Was Heidi really going to jettison Sam’s body into space? Into nothingness?

She recognized a few of the girls crying across the freeze pod from her. Val had come. She was small, her dark black hair curtaining her face. She had dressed in uniform but added a black scarf. Instead of standing at attention, Val clung to her taller blonde friend’s arm, biting her lip. They didn’t deserve to be here.

Asami scowled around the room. In the back, up on the metal walks near the ceiling, she saw Maxi. Asami supposed it made her a terrible person, but if she could, she would have traded any one of these people for Sam. Spitefully, she let herself imagine stuffing one of the girls inside the freeze pod as Sam jumped up yelling, “Psych!”

Once everyone had gathered, Heidi began to talk. How freeze was safe, how this was an inexplicable incompatibility with Sam’s specific genetics, nothing about who Sam was.

Asami made herself watch as Declan’s officers carried Sam’s body to an airlock. No one really saw his pod go. Just the heavy metal doors closing on his pod, the warning bell, the hiss of the air lock sealing.

Heidi came up to her as the others trailed away. She looked drained, sad, tired.

“I’m sorry, Asami. I know you were close to Sam. He was a good person.” She squeezed Asami’s shoulder. Her fingers gripped too tightly.

Asami nodded, staring at the airlock door.

A good person.

So sorry.

It wasn’t enough.

When everyone had left, Asami opened the chamber.

The pod was gone.

Sam was really gone.