GWENDY SWIPES TO THE CONTROL screen on her iPad, taps VIDEO LINK, and a blank picture-in-picture display opens in the upper right hand corner. She hits the REVERSE IMAGE icon and the top of her head appears in the small window. Adjusting the angle, she gives one final tap, and her smiling face fills the entire screen.
“Got it,” she says with no small measure of pride.
Gwendy’s long gray hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail and there are circles of bright color in her cheeks. Her blue eyes are clear and alert. She looks much younger than her sixty-four years and feels it, too.
“There you are.” Kathy Lundgren floats down into view. “Ready for your close-up, Mrs. Peterson?”
Gwendy extends her hand. “Of course, I am, darling,” she says in a haughty tone. Kathy laughs and feigns kissing the Senator’s hand.
Kathy was worried about Gwendy earlier—when she first told her the news about the fire, the Senator had appeared lost, almost in a daze—but now that she’s down here face-to-face, she finds that she can’t stop staring at her. “My goodness, a couple hours of rest did wonders for you. You look and sound terrific.”
“That and a strategic touch or two of make-up.” Only Gwendy didn’t bring much on this trip. Why would she? She’s about as low maintenance as they come.
“Well, whatever it is, send some my way, why don’t you.” Adesh Patel glides past Kathy on his way to his flight chair. She gives him a friendly nod and looks back at Gwendy. “A little less than five minutes til go.”
Gwendy adjusts the straps on her flight seat and wiggles her hips until she’s comfortable. She glances up at the overhead monitors and then down at her iPad. Licking her lips, she tastes a hint of chocolate on the back of her tongue. She instantly feels the thump-thump-thump of her heart beginning to race beneath her jumpsuit.
The tiny piece of chocolate had been in the shape of an ostrich. When she’d pulled open the drawstring of the canvas bag and slid out the button box, she’d been amazed at how heavy it felt in her hands, despite their weightless environment. Much heavier than she remembered, and somehow significantly heavier than when she was carrying it around inside the reinforced steel case. She knew that made little sense—no sense at all, in fact—but didn’t spend much time thinking about it. All things were possible when it came to the button box.
Her decision had already been made by the time she’d punched in the seven-digit code and opened the small white case marked CLASSIFIED MATERIAL, so there was little hesitation once the moment came. She lifted the box onto her lap, reached down and pulled the lever on the left side, the one closest to the red button. And then she’d thought: If you’re monitoring this, Farris, you can kiss my bony white ass.
The narrow wooden shelf slid soundlessly open from the center of the box. She picked up the chocolate ostrich and popped it into her mouth, barely taking the time to appreciate its fine detail. Closing her eyes, she allowed it to melt on her tongue, savoring the familiar burst of exotic flavor. Once the chocolate was gone, she immediately thought about pulling the lever a second time but fought back the temptation. She knew she was already pressing her luck.
After leaving the control room earlier and assuring a concerned Bern Stapleton that she was okay and just needed to rest, Gwendy retired to her cabin. When she stretched out atop the cramped bunk and buckled herself in, she hadn’t even been thinking about the button box and its magic treats. All she wanted was to close her eyes and make the world go away for a short time. She was physically and mentally exhausted—and she was scared. Despite what Kathy Lundgren and Bern Stapleton believed, it wasn’t the fire in Castle Rock that had Gwendy so distraught, although that certainly didn’t help matters. It was a combination of everything. The video conference worried her greatly. One untimely misstep and she knew she was finished. Her heart ached fiercely. Despite the friendships she’d made, she hadn’t realized how alone she’d feel on this trip. It had been almost seven years now, but not having Ryan waiting for her back at home left Gwendy feeling forlorn and adrift. And then there were the Brain Freezes. Ever since quarantine—and especially ever since they’d boarded Eagle-19 Heavy—they were coming with an increasing frequency that terrified her. Initially, she’d believed it was stress worsening her symptoms. But in her heart, she knew that wasn’t the case. The button box had somehow discovered her plan and was trying to stop her before they reached MF-1.
Reaching down and touching the notebook tucked safely inside the pocket of her jumpsuit, she thought: How long until the only things I remember are the words inside this notebook? And what about when I no longer remember how to read …?
Just the thought of that happening made Gwendy want to pull her hair out, or scream, or do both. Lying there, head spinning, staring up at the curved ceiling of her cabin, she’d eventually dozed. And dreamed …
Gareth Winston sits cross-legged on the floor beneath his porthole. No other crew members are in sight and the ship is eerily silent. Winston is naked except for a saggy pair of soiled tighty-whiteys. His man-boobs and bright pink nipples are ringed by unruly snatches of curly dark hair. The button box rests atop his pale chubby legs and at first glance it appears to be smeared in blood. But then Gwendy sees that Winston’s sausage-like fingers are dripping with globs of melting chocolate. So are his mouth and all three of his chins. It’s everywhere. He reaches down and pulls the lever on the right side of the box. Out slides the wooden tray with a tiny chocolate donkey centered atop it. Winston grabs the chocolate and crams it into his mouth, slurping noisily. “Sooo good,” he exclaims and lifting his arm high above his head, he points a single finger in the air and—never one to pass up on an expansive gesture—and twirls his finger around and around, before lowering it in agonizing slow-motion until it rests directly atop the red button. He giggles, drooling a rope of chocolate saliva onto his lap—and presses the button. Once. Twice. He looks up then, grinning with stained teeth and bellows, “There! Now I’m number one in the world!”
Strapped onto her bunk, Gwendy jerked awake with a scream of terror lodged in her throat—and knew exactly what she needed to do.
“Thirty seconds,” Kathy Lundgren says.
Gwendy steals a sidelong glance at Winston, who is buckled into his seat and facing the opposite direction. She checks her teeth in the iPad screen—all clean; no chocolate!—and releases a deep, steadying breath. “Here goes nothing, folks.” She places her finger over the LIVE VIDEO icon and listens to the Operation Commander count down.
“Five … four … three … two … one … and you’re a go!”
Gwendy puts a big smile on her face and taps the icon. “Greetings, earthlings, from my home away from home, Eagle-19 Heavy. My name is Senator Gwendy Peterson from the great state of Maine and I will be serving as your tour guide today. Before I unbuckle and give you a look at the amazing view just outside this porthole, I want to introduce you to our esteemed Flight Commander Miss Kathy Lundgren. Say hi to everybody, Kathy! The three handsome gentlemen sitting to my immediate left are …”