The story continues…

Olga Steblyk/ Lead Photographer

From where she stood, the moving lights reminded her of stars, so bright and just out of reach. They followed a curved path through the field, moving fast but steady. As she crept closer, she realized they were ships, but different from the one she had landed in; they never left the ground. When they shrunk in the distance she hesitantly stepped onto the path. The ground underneath her feet had changed from soft, cool grass to rough, hot pavement in an instant. It was excruciating.  

     Before she could fully process the change, the world in front of her became increasingly brighter. Two spotlights grew, illuminating the tar-coloured path broken up only by shining yellow markings. The few insects flying around her began fleeing to the grass as the immediate area grew even brighter and a whirring, guttural sound rapidly approached her from behind, getting louder each passing moment. She turned to face it.  

     Two lights blinded her, burned her eyes till they grew watery. She couldn’t tell if she still had them open. The lights they used on Mars were never this bright. If humans were weaker than them, she wondered, how could they bear such illumination? At the thought of home, her stomach sank. Her people, the Elders most importantly, were relying on her, on her research. Yet here she was in the middle of nowhere, her mission partner a long ways away and no way to contact home until she returned to the ship. What if she failed? If she got lost? The tablet showed her the way but a line on a map meant nothing when you were actually in the foreign land. What if this light consumed her? Or a ship hit her? She had no defences in this world. She had never felt more alone, more helpless.  

                 The ship got so close to her before it screeched to a halt. She could feel the cool steel inches away from hitting her and a forceful wind almost knocked her over. The guttural sound quieted down and she squinted at what was there. A human woman stuck her head out the window, but it was too bright to see her face. 

     “Get in, hitchhiker!”  

     The ship was no ship at all, but a pickup truck as Eileen, the older lady, called it. There were two seats, but the control panel was unlike anything she had seen, covered in buttons and strange symbols. Her knee hit a part of the panel and a cubby opened, spilling packets of sauce and boxes of something called cigarettes. They hit her feet, reminding her of the burns and stones she could feel lodged in her soles.  

     “Don’t worry about it, I’ve been meaning to clean anyways,” Eileen said, reaching over to close it. “What were you doing out there this late, hun? The next town isn’t for another hundred miles.” 

   The concern in Eileen’s voice reminded her of the Elders and her stomach churned. She longed for their comfort and the knowledge that she was protected but would never dream of letting them down.  

     She had remained silent the whole ride, weary of this human and not confident in her English. It felt strange to form these sounds, her tongue worked against her.  

     “I am lost,” she croaked.