The Other Side

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But you can certainly hear one from inside a cryo-pod—especially when it’s coming from your own mouth. Funny how they never say waking up after a hundred years in stasis is like experiencing the trauma of birth all over again. Because it is, only this time, you remember it.

You remember pain zipping along nerves, rippling through muscle in waves of fire. You feel the collapse of every cell as frozen tissue contracts upon warming. With this rebirth, your heartbeat bursts forth with dreams and nightmares of a lifetime past. Eyes that have been iced shut for a century struggle to focus on the present.

***

I leaned over my sister, studying her dark eyes. They were my mother’s eyes. My grandmother’s eyes. The eyes of all the ancestors we’d left in the ashes of Earth.

“Falon?” I asked. She’d been out of cryo-sleep for over two hours but hadn’t moved since she’d stopped screaming. I was beginning to worry.

“Falon,” I repeated. “How are you feeling?”

She inhaled deeply and pushed herself into a sitting position. “Well rested,” she quipped.

I rolled my eyes. “We need to wake the others.”

“Right,” she agreed. “Can I press everyone’s thaw buttons?”

“No way,” I said.

Ten minutes later, my sister was shuffling down the center aisle of the cryo-barracks, jabbing her finger into button after button. Each pod hissed upon release from its duty.

“We don’t have to wake them all at once,” I reminded her, following close behind.

“I know, but it’s better to let them scream it all out together,” she said. “Get it over with. Don’t you think?”

I grabbed her hand before she could initiate the wake sequence of the final person. Even though only sixty humans remained in the entire universe, I felt like we could do without this one.

“Coen, we have to wake him,” Falon said.

“No, we don’t.”

“If we don’t, someone else will,” she said.

“I know, but damn it, he’s such an asshole.”

“Well, maybe he’s chilled out over the past hundred years.” She broke into a fit of giggles.

I grimaced.

“Oh, come on, admit it. That’s the best joke you’ve heard in a long time.” She snorted with laughter.

“Stop, or I’m putting myself back into stasis,” I said.

“Fine,” she grumbled.

I let go of her hand, and she pressed the final button. “Rise and shine, Captain Dad,” she chirped.

***

“Listen up, everyone!” Captain Walters bellowed. “As you know, we chose Proxima Centauri b for relocation since it’s the closest planet to Earth that resides in a goldilocks zone most likely to sustain life. All preliminary evidence suggests it offers the best hope for our continued survival. Once we use the ship’s radar to zero in on an area with water, we can land. The Life Team will then deploy to scan for oxygen levels, toxic gases, and temperature ranges.

“If the atmosphere is confirmed safe, we will open the hatch doors. Do not venture far from the ship. Stay close to armed security personnel at all times until we determine the threat level of any biological specimens.”

The next few hours consisted of reintroductions and small talk among fellow shipmates. It almost made me wish I’d died a slow death back on Earth. I also had to repeatedly apologize for my sister’s feet flying every which way—in cartwheels down the corridors, handstands against the door panels, backbends in line for the bathroom.

“Can you not do that?” I’d say every time she kicked someone.

“Sorry! Just making up for lost time!”

I gave up trying to control her and went to find a quiet place to think. I broke into a storage closet, sat down on a box of expired freeze-dried carrots, and let the tears come.

I was homesick for a sunrise. A thunderstorm. An ocean breeze. I longed for the melody of music. The smell of fresh-baked cookies. The juicy bite of ripe nectarine.

My mind wandered back to that month everything changed. That month humankind fell to evil. That month atomic bombs rained from the skies, and nuclear missiles crisscrossed the planet until the only things left were fire, fear, and blackened shadows of the dead. My mother was among them.

Dad likes to say those of us who survived are the lucky ones. I disagree with that sentiment but try to keep it to myself around the other survivors. There is one thing I’m thankful for, though: Falon has no idea what she’s missing from our Earth days. She was only two years old when we boarded the ship. While everyone else went into stasis soon after, I stayed awake with my sister to give her a safe and secure childhood. I figured she deserved that much. So, while everyone else was sleeping, we grew up. When she turned twelve, and I was twenty-six, we decided it was time to join the others.

***

Finally, the five-member Life Team returned. Everyone gathered around to hear what they had to report.

“Captain,” said First Officer Lana Hill. “The atmosphere and surrounding environment are hospitable. We located the water source two miles due north. There’s nothing to indicate we would be in danger if the group decided to disembark.”

Cheers erupted around Officer Hill.

“Very well,” Captain Walters replied.

We all crowded at the main hatch in anticipation of setting foot on our new planet. I scanned the other faces. It was difficult to reconcile their unchanged appearances with the fact that a hundred years had passed.

Falon must have been thinking the same thing. “This feels like a dream,” she said.

With that, the hatch raised, and the ramp lowered. Bright light flooded the ship’s interior.

“I can’t believe we have a sun again!” Falon shouted. She shoved me aside and scampered off, bouncing about a foot in the air with each step.

I wondered what else besides gravity would be different here.

Before I could follow my sister, Officer Hill approached me. “Coen,” she said. “I need to speak with you before you exit the ship.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Define trouble,” she said.

I thought of everything I’d done since waking up, which wasn’t much. “I can’t,” I replied.

“Just follow me.” She led me to the east-wing control room and sat me down in front of the main computer. Its screen was cracked.

“I didn’t do that,” I told her. “I promise, I haven’t even been in here lately.”

“It’s not about the computer,” she said.

“Then what?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Uh, come again?”

She crossed her arms and stared at me with her sea green eyes, lip quivering. “I’m pregnant. I thought about telling you before I went into cryo-sleep, but honestly, I didn’t expect we’d survive.”

I stared at the beautiful woman standing in front of me.

“Please say something. What do you think? I mean, besides the fact that the timing absolutely sucks.”

I grabbed her hand and pulled her gently into my lap, wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her hair. “I think it’s amazing.”

***

“Coen, come check this out!” my sister hollered over the growing chatter of the group members milling about outside. She was stomping around, a huge smile on her face.

“What are you doing?” I asked, making my way down the ramp. But as soon as my feet touched the ground, I knew.

“It’s spongy! Watch this!” She turned a cartwheel and her hands sunk ever-so-slightly. When she stood up, her hands were stained yellow.

“Look at this place,” I mused. We had landed in a barren, open area with amber soil. I knelt on the ground and pinched some between my thumb and forefinger. It was soft and fine, like flour. I poked a bit of pink fuzz that dappled the ground. “I don’t know why I expected to find green grass here.”

“You know how they say the grass is always greener on the other side?” My sister said.

“Yeah?”

“Welcome to the other side,” she said, bounding away.

“Don’t go too far,” I warned, watching her head toward the edge of the clearing. It was fringed by a dense, mixed-species forest of red plants whose leaves quaked as if moved by breeze. But the air was still. A flash of anxiety ripped through me, leaving behind a feeling of dread.

I think the others in the group were starting to feel the same way. An eerie silence settled around them as they stopped talking. I scanned my surroundings to try and make sense of everything. The clear sky held an ashen tone, despite the shining sun. I couldn’t imagine a planet like this would be utterly void of animal-like life forms, but there seemed to be nothing here. I pulled in a deep breath of viscous air. It’s scent was a sickening mix of sulfur and sweetness. No, this was not right. None of it was right. Everything suddenly felt dangerous.

I started to go after my sister, but Dad found me.

“Coen,” he said, stepping in front of me. “What do you think? Pretty spectacular, right?”

“Actually, no. I don’t like it at all. We should go back to Earth. It’s been an entire century. It will take one more to get back; that’s 200 years of recovery and—”

“Come on, now. We both know that’s not nearly enough time.”

“Actually, we don’t know that for sure.”

He paused a moment and squinted, looking thoughtful. I felt a twinge of hope. Then he sneezed.

“Anyway,” he continued, “the decision has been made.”

“By you,” I said. “What about everyone else? We don’t even get a vote in the matter!”

“We’re staying here. Simple as that.”

“Then we are all going to die,” I told him, walking away.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he called after me.

My sister stood at the edge of the clearing, waving her arms. “Coen!” she called. “Come look at this!”

I tried to jog over to her but quickly felt short of breath. By the time I reached her, I was wheezing. “You shouldn’t be all the way out here without a guard,” I said. “Let’s go back.”

“But look!” She pointed into the forest.

I tilted my head back, gazing into the flora’s upper canopy. Upon closer inspection, the leaves held an iridescence that changed colors in the sunlight. They glimmered in different shades of red, pink, and purple. It was mesmerizing.

“Not up, dummy,” she said. “Over there. Does that look like a trail to you?”

A trail? My head snapped back down, and I saw what appeared to be a narrow, winding path that disappeared into the foliage.

“Signs of alien life!” Falon declared in triumph.

“Uh, sis? We’re the aliens here,” I reminded her.

“What kind of creature do you think it’s from?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I replied. “Let’s get back to the ship.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the discovery.

“I bet it’s a three-horned goat deer,” she said. “Or a six-legged duck bear.”

A laugh rose in my throat, only to be smothered by a surge of panic that held tight and crawled deep into my chest.

Falon stopped and clutched her chest. “What is that?” she whispered.

“You feel it too?”

She nodded and winced.

The feeling grew until it was unbearable. Inescapable. It bound our feet to the ground with an invisible weight. I looked toward the ship and saw that everyone was affected. Motionless. Wild-eyed.

I struggled to take in more oxygen but felt my lungs deflating. Like when a boa constrictor’s muscles tighten a little more each time their prey exhales, eventually causing suffocation.

I looked at Falon. Her lips were turning blue.

Then, the growling began, closing in from all directions, echoing through the air, louder and louder.

The natives were coming, and we were helpless.