Heirlooms

Peter, Lisa, and I walked hurriedly back to the one remaining apartment complex that still had some semblance of functional heat. As we walked in an increasingly familiar view greeted us. Rows of people laying side by side like they were on some kind of slave ship from the Originators. Warmth was much needed in this environment, for the desert climate took mild days into dangerously cold nights. Each night I wondered if this would be the last night I would be on the planet, be with this mass of body, sweat, existence.

The three of us found an open space on the ninth floor. Surrounding us were some of our friends from upper basic school. These were people we had known all our lives, I remember reading something like 99% of our grade were born and raised on the planet. We knew nothing else. So these nights had an element of nostalgia to them. We were able to reconnect with old friends. Joke about old times.

I looked over at Peter and asked him how his sister Sam was doing with all of this.

"She's got one of the most calm and pragmatic approaches to this evacuation. She's kind of my family's rock," he replied. "How's your mum and pop handling it?"

"My mum got to leave with the first group. That was hard on my father, but he seems confident they'll see each other again. We have to trust in that I suppose," I answered. "My father's certainly happy to be out of the mines right now. That place was killing him. If there's one good thing about this evacuation it's that he's getting a break from that hell hole. He once told me the best and worst thing about that place was that it was so remote, you could hide things there for weeks, months, cause no one would ever be crazy enough to voluntarily go down there to steal them. He has all sorts of stories of shading dealings going on down there."

"No kidding? Like what?" Peter asked now drawn into the drama.

---

I awoke to a sudden jerk and Peter's face close to mine. Breathing at such a rapid pace I could barely hear what he was asking he had to repeat his question three times for me to fully understand.

"Have you seen Sam?" then to our group of friends, "Has anyone seen Sam?"

Without chance for response, Peter ran out to the hallway. I heard the heavy steel doors of the floor open and shut. Something was wrong.

I pulled myself together and ran down the stairs then outside. I stepped back as the stinging rush of cold air and the blinding white glow barraged my being; the frost from the morning blanketed the wintery landscape, oppressive in it's overwhelming luminance. I saw Peter's tracks running out to towards the entrance to the mine. Why the hell would he go there, I thought to myself. I yelled out for him but he made no stop or pause at my words. He seemed possessed, guided only by intuition and fear. So I ran after him, trying my best to keep up with his much more athletic frame.

By the time I finally caught up I saw Peter kneeling next to his younger sister Sam. Clutched in her hand was a small box covered in soot. Her eyes were starring aimlessly towards the grey sky. Her chest was not moving. It took me a second to realize what I was looking at. Sam was dead. For reasons that must have been explained by that box, she must not have realized what time it was, and didn't make it out of the mine in time. She froze to death.

Peter slowly took the box from her hands. He opened it slowly and after a brief period in a silent focus, broke into tears. I looked out at the world, the frost seeming to thicken for the moment.