The scent of vomit wafts through the Narwhal’s tight and dingy corridors. The number of sick on board has quickly outpaced the capacity of the bathrooms and even if there were enough for everybody, many find themselves so thoroughly put out of commission by the combined symptoms of radiation poisoning and insomnia that they can’t, or don’t bother, to get out of bed. The bunk room is the worst off. The bucket Charlie brought for Piper isn’t the only one now, and none of them are empty. The air has become stagnant and humid, filled with the pungent odor of partially digested food and gastric acid.

  Charlie wakes from a restless sleep. According to her watch, it’s almost nine o’clock at night. Her sleep schedule has quickly fallen apart after a nap the previous evening after dinner left her awake for most of the night. But between the unending darkness, the constant nightmares, and the sickness, time of day has ceased to matter. Even without any of those things, Julia’s presence alone would block any semblance of a normal resting pattern as her visits--frequent and random, consistent only in the hellish cacophony she creates upon arrival--make it impossible to get a full eight hours without being woken up.

  Shoes squeaking on the metal floor dampened by the moisture in the air, Charlie leaves the bunk room behind. Even the walls feel wet and sticky as she uses them to guide herself in the dark. She can’t remember if this is something new or if she’s only just noticing it. She can’t even be sure it’s actually the Narwhal and not just her own skin becoming chilled and clammy. Either way, it makes breathing harder. The air is like a humid day with no breeze. It’s not a hot humidity either, there’s a chill to it, more similar to a spring morning, mist rolling off the hills, dew on the grass. It clings to her clothes and skin, and she shivers.

  Charlie hobbles through the halls, heading for the mess hall. Eating is a delicate task now, but she’ll try to force herself to take at least a few bites to keep her dwindling strength from leaving her altogether. She’s not really going there to eat anyway, more trying to escape the bunk room than anything. The mess hall, though still filled with the same sticky air, doesn’t smell half as bad, and the bit of light from the stove has allowed everyone to keep the room marginally cleaner.

  Before she can reach the room though, there’s a nondescript shout from within, followed by the clatter of metal on the floor. She speeds up a bit, concerned, and turns the corner into the mess hall. Inside, she sees the darkened figures of Max, Jessica, and Ernie. Max is holding Jessica’s wrist in one hand, his other arm wrapped around her neck, pulling back, away from the table and her brother. Ernie is standing at the table motionless, blinking, eyes wide.

  Jessica jerks, grunting, trying to pull herself free from Max’s grasp, but she can’t wrestle out of his grip and by the time Charlie steps forward, she’s given up.

  “What happened?” Charlie asks, coughing as soon as the words come out. “What are you doing?” She looks at Max.

  Ernie just shakes his head and covers his face with his hands.

  Max looks at Charlie, eyes narrow. “She tried to kill him,” he says.

  For a few seconds, Charlie struggles to wrap her mind around such a bold claim. The thought of violence onboard was certainly something she had thought about. It was a possibility she couldn’t ignore with how stressed and tense everyone had become, but after yesterday’s outburst, she had imagined Max to be the most likely one to attack someone, not the one to stop it. And Jessica, she’d seemed so weakened and fragile after the crash, but Ernie doesn’t even try to refute Max’s claim. She’d actually assaulted him, her own brother.

  Charlie steps over. She puts a hand on Max’s shoulder and nods. He raises an eyebrow, but abides, cautiously releasing Jessica. She slumps to her knees as soon as she’s free of his grip and Charlie crouches down in front of her. Staring into her eyes, Jessica doesn’t look up. Her head hangs parallel with the floor, she doesn’t move or make a sound.

  “Jess,” Charlie whispers, her voice hoarse and rough, “are you okay?”

  Jessica doesn’t reply.

  “Hey.” Charlie tries again. “What happened?” She keeps her voice quiet, trying her best to sound soothing and non-confrontational.

  Jessica sighs. “It’s not fair,” she mumbles.

  “What’s not fair?”

  “We don’t deserve this.”

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  “Jessica, why did you try to hurt Ernie?”

  “It’s the only way. The only way out,” she replies. “We have no other choice.”

  Max looks down at Jessica, shaking her head. “I’ll go get Bill and Lewis.”

  Charlie nods.

  “It’s a mercy, you know?” Jessica continues. “She won’t grant us the same. I only want to save us.”

  “That’s not your decision to make.”

  Jessica goes quiet again and after a moment, keels over onto her side. She clutches her stomach, gagging like she’s going to throw up, but her stomach is empty. She dry heaves a few times, then falls over, unconscious.

  Charlie quickly checks her breathing and pulse but she seems to be okay. She turns to Ernie.

  “What about you, Ernie?” She asks. “Are you alright?”

  Ernie nods. He takes a deep breath and steps over to his sister. Bending over, he brushes a few stray strands of hair from her face and looks down with pain in his eyes. He pats her on the head.

  “She seemed so...sure,” he says. “She came at me, but without anger, just kindness, and sorrow. She really thought, thinks, that what she was doing was the best thing to do.”

  Bill and Lewis enter the room at the same time. Both have labored breathing, having rushed to the scene as quickly as their deteriorating bodies could take them. Their eyes fall to Jessica as soon as they step inside.

  “Is she alright?” Bill asks.

  “Anyone hurt?” Lewis asks.

  “Everyone’s okay,” Charlie replies. “She passed out, could be she overexerted herself.”

  Lewis bends down, grabs Jessica’s arm, and puts his fingers to her wrist.

  He nods. “Heart rate is fast, but she’s fine.” He stands up and turns around. “Bill.”

  Bill looks back at Lewis. “Do we have to?”

  “We both agreed on this.”

  Charlie looks at Bill. “Agreed to what?”

  Lewis is the one that answers. “We need to separate her from everyone else. For our safety and hers.”

  Charlie frowns. “Is that really necessary? I’m sure--”

  “We can’t ignore someone trying to hurt anybody else on this ship,” Lewis says. “And it ain’t the first time she’s acted out like this neither. I can’t ignore the same threat twice.”

  Bill nods. “It’s for the best.” He rests a hand on Ernie’s shoulder.

  Ernie nods. “I understand.”

  “Charlie,” Lewis says, “help me carry her. We’ll make sure she’s comfortable. I don’t wanna be cruel, need to keep things steady down here is all.”

  Charlie hesitates but doesn’t try to fight it. She knows that Bill and Lewis are kind people and that they’re both more experienced than she is. She knows they haven’t come to such a decision on a whim and trusts their judgment to be sound even in these extreme circumstances. Wrapping her hands around Jessica’s ankles, she lifts as Lewis does the same at her shoulders.

  Lewis looks at her brother before they go. “Ernie, why don’t you go and grab your sister some of her things, and something to sleep on. We’ll put her in one of the empty storage closets behind the counter here. Not like we got much food taking up space in ‘em anyway.”

  Ernie nods and leaves for the bunks.

  Charlie and Lewis, meanwhile, carry Jessica to the closet and gently place her inside. When Ernie returns, they put down a mattress and some blankets, along with some water, and shut the door. Ernie doesn’t stick around, he leaves as soon as the door closes.

  There’s a light thump against the walls of the Narwhal as Charlie takes a seat, laying her head against the cold, metal table. She shuts her eyes just as the booming rush of Julia’s call hits her ears.

***

  An hour later, Charlie bolts awake. She looks around, there are a few others sitting in the mess hall with her, but there’s little in the way of conversation going around. And just a second after she awakens, Bill taps her on the shoulder as he comes in to sit next to her.

  “Saw you wake up as I came in,” he says. “If you’re tired you should try to sleep in your bed.”

  He looks at her with concern plastered across his face clear as day. Though she’s sure she looks terrible--as everyone onboard does--she knows from the moment he sits down that he’s faring worse than she, and if anyone should be concerned it should be her. Bill’s breathing is labored, even at rest. His eyes are bloodshot, sunken deep into his skull, and the skin around them is dark. His cheeks are sunken, the bones of his face pronounced. His beard is thin and wiry, hair unkempt and greasy. Bill had always had great posture for his age, and had frequently been the type of person to tell Charlie to sit up straighter, but now he was bent over, slouched, too exhausted and weak to maintain his stature. His hands shake when he moves them, his steps are slow when he takes them, and when he speaks his voice is quiet and coarse. He’s old, he had been for a while, and Charlie knew that, but he always looked younger than he was. Now he looks older, decrepit even. It hurts to see him so worn.

  “I’m fine,” Charlie says, “didn’t mean to doze off. Kinda glad I could even if it was just for a little while.” She shakes her head. “You look like you need it more than I do. I worry about you. These conditions, at your age.”

  “Don’t start bringing that up again. I can hold out as long as I need to. Can’t stop until everyone’s safe.”

  “You need to rest. I know you’re burdening yourself with the responsibility right now, shouldering a ton of stress. You think you have to keep an eye on everyone, worry about everyone all the time, but you don’t. The anxiety is destroying you, Bill.”

  “But it is my responsibility, Charlie. Don’t waste your energy worrying about me. You know I’m stubborn, I will see this through to the end.” He waits for a little while, catching his breath. “And when I do, I think I’m really ready to retire like you always wanted.”

  Charlie cracks the thinnest of smiles. “Me too.”

  Bill chuckles, but it turns into a cough.

  Charlie puts a hand on his back until the fit passes and the two sit in silence for a while.