EDGE OF DAY

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Nobody got to choose how to spend the last few minutes of their life, but if they did, floating through space with a breathtaking view of Mars might come top of the list. Day tried to appreciate the view and not think of the suffocation that would follow. As soon as the gauge measuring the air in the life support pack reached zero, she would try to rip through her suit. Exposure to space would kill her instantly. Better than suffocation.

It didn't seem so awful now, not knowing whether Will's life-pack had attached to him in time. If he was out here, drifting towards Mars, then they shared the same destiny, and he'd only been given a brief reprieve. Besides, was it better to know what was coming? It wasn't as though you could prepare for death.

An afternoon when Day was five or six flashed through her mind. She was in the park with her mom and refusing to go home. Her mom had picked her up and carried her underarm to the car, legs kicking, arms flailing, teeth biting. She had thrown Day into the back seat, locked the doors, and switched on the air. Day had hit her head and cried.

Her mom had clambered over into the back, rubbed Day's head and pulled Day into her arms.

"I'm sorry, sweetie."

"I'm sorry, Mom."

Her mom had squeezed her hard and whispered into her hair, "The world's not supposed to be like this."

Day gazed at Mar's rusty red aura and blinked back the tears on her lashes. When Will had told her Monday believed their parents were alive, she'd felt a fragile blossom of hope flower inside her. She would do anything to see her Mom again. Even for a few minutes. Dayna must have known this. Dayna had used Day's deepest longing to manipulate her. If Monday was a bitch, then Dayna was a cold-hearted psychopath.

An orange light on the inside screen of the helmet flipped to red. Will's words about sleep came to mind: in sleep you did not understand you were asleep until you woke up. Oblivion couldn't be so different. If you didn't know you were dead, then how could it matter? And if you did know, then you weren't dead, were you?

Day focused her attention on the spectacular view ahead. Mars was half the size of the earth, with a coppery red and dirty blue crater-riddled surface. It was mystical and beautiful. She ignored the rapidly decreasing red zone on her air gauge. After several minutes of drifting, a white speck appeared in the corner of her screen.

She rubbed the front of her visor. It didn't vanish. Instead, it grew in size, almost imperceptibly at first, but then without a doubt. And it aligned its trajectory straight for her.

Her heartbeat rate shot up. The red gauge began flashing. Words popped up on the screen.

Please assume the pod rescue position.

Day's vision wavered. She wasn't getting enough air. She tried to read the instruction on the screen again. Pod rescue position?

Suddenly a giant fast-moving ball filled her vision. It was going to hit her straight on! With the last vestiges of strength, she drew her legs to her chest, and pulled her arms over her head.

The side of her body hit something. The edges of her vision darkened. She was out of oxygen. Her mind drifted, losing track of what was happening. She was vaguely aware of a whooshing sound, followed by an annoying insect-sized buzzing.

She gasped. Oxygen! She could breathe! The oxygen made her head spin. She reached for her face where the stitching of the helmet had been cut and pulled the casing off. Oxygen filled her lungs, and her mind cleared.