Tim woke with his head full of strange music. It was gentle and rhythmic, but unlike anything he’d heard before. It took him a full minute to realise it was coming from the audio feed in his walrus mask.
He opened his eyes. The other icons in his mask – the ones representing his friends – grew slowly brighter as they too came awake. There was a groan, then Norman’s voice: ‘Oh man, I feel like something died in my mouth.’
‘Seeing the way you eat, it could have been anything,’ Coral said.
‘Suspension lag.’ Ludokrus’s voice sounded like a rusty hinge. ‘The body is still part asleep. Best cure is to get up.’
‘After you.’
‘Yeah, go right ahead.’
No one moved.
Tim noticed the lid of his capsule had drawn back. Did that mean ...?
He flexed his fingers and curled his toes. He could feel them again. He was all there. Complete. Healed!
He sat up, pulling off the walrus mask. Whoops, too quick. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he reached out to steady himself on the sides of the capsule.
Looking about, he caught sight of his left arm and grinned. The last time he’d seen it, it had been ablaze from elbow to wrist. Now it was fixed, perfect, the skin unmarked.
Pushing himself from the gel bed, he soared into the air, only now remembering the indicator in his mask had warned gravity was only one-quarter normal. A quantity of blue gel drifted up with him and cleany-crawlies dashed across to slurp it up.
Norman sat up in his capsule, shook his head groggily and pulled off his mask. Seeing Tim, he slapped it back on and said, ‘You might want to put some clothes on before you start floating around, mate.’
* * *
Avril Townsend hobbled into the kitchen in her dressing gown. Her hair was awry and her face drawn. She’d slept badly, thinking about her missing children and the incredible story Glad had told them the night before. Finally, just before dawn she’d drifted off, only to be woken by the sound of excited voices and her husband’s calls.
She glared at the wall clock. 6:35. A ridiculous hour, but the rest of the household was already up and dressed. Glenn, Glad and Em were seated at the kitchen table, clutching mugs of tea and staring at a shiny object sitting in the centre. They greeted her as she entered and Frank handed her a cup.
The excited looks on their faces made her forget her annoyance and she took a seat saying, ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Glenn pointed at the shiny object. ‘Take a look.’
She picked up what appeared to be a large ball bearing. It was solid and heavy with letters engraved in its surface.
‘We found it in the milking shed this morning. It punched a hole clean through the roof and dented the side of a piece of three-millimetre-thick stainless steel.’
‘I don’t know what that means,’ Avril said.
‘It means it was travelling pretty fast.’
The words took a moment to register. A hole in the roof. Travelling fast. ‘You mean like a meteorite?’
Glenn nodded, grinning.
‘You think it’s from the children?’
‘Take a look at the writing.’
‘Attention: Uncle Frank,’ she read aloud. ‘It also says Twist here to open.’ She looked up expectantly.
‘We were waiting for you. Go ahead.’
Avril took the ball in two hands and twisted it. ‘It’s not ...’ There was a faint snick then the two halves unscrewed smoothly and came apart. The interior contained four folded pieces of paper that dropped onto the tabletop.
‘Paper? Is that it? Oh my gosh, they’re notes! Look, that’s Coral’s handwriting!’
There were two notes addressed to Glenn and Avril, one to Glad, and one to Em and Frank. They shared them out and sat in silence, reading.
Avril read and re-read the messages from Coral and Tim, shaking her head in disbelief as the tea before her grew cold. Glenn couldn’t stop smiling. He put his arm around her. ‘It’s just as you said, Glad. They’re all OK. Even Tim. He had to dictate his note to Coral because their machines were still patching him up, but it’s him all right. His voice comes through. You can hear it.’
She reached out to Em and Glad. ‘I ... I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. And the way I acted. I just ... I ... I ...’
Em patted her hand. ‘No need to apologise. In your situation, in the circumstances ... well, I don’t know how I’d have reacted.’
‘What does your note say?’ Glenn said to Em and Frank.
Em passed it across, which gave Glad a chance to slip the last page of Norman’s note under the table where she tucked it into the pocket of her jeans. It was a postscript the others didn’t need to see, at least not yet. Norman had been more honest than the others and told her about the problem with time and the speed of light. They’d be back, he was sure of that, but it might take them a bit longer than expected.