Mars Transport–Two Months Earlier

Hope's father and mother pried her away from Cole. His fingers slipped through her grip. Her father held her in place on the transport. His arm squeezed tight around her stomach. The door hissed and closed mechanically. Then her father released her. She tasted her salty tears in her mouth. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest.

How could they do this to Cole?

Hope must see him one more time. She moved to the window next to her and touched her forehead to the cool glass. She raised her hand, yet her body fought against her movements and stopped her halfway. Her mind had overloaded and forced an automatic shutdown to handle her new reality. She put her fingertips against the glass too and gazed across at him, praying to get his attention. A window also divided them on his side, and she observed him through it.

Cole placed his face against the window, and his eyes watched her. They were inches from each other. Hope felt him on the other side, but unable to touch and hold him. She stared into his eyes and shouted, "I love you!", knowing that he could not hear her.

This had all happened too fast. She prepared to confess her undying love to him. She had said it to him after, but he did not respond. It seemed almost childlike now, compared to their newest problems.

She grinned at him, and he did the same.

"I will always love you," she said it weaker, still aware that he could not hear.

When the docking grips detached, a metallic clang broadcasted their departure. The engine vibrated to life underneath her feet and then the ship backed from him, slowly. She remained there motionless, still locked on his eyes, until they stopped going backwards. Then they sped away upwards, and she lost sight of him. She had no desire to move, so she switched her focus to the damaged Lunar Docking Station with the pockmarked, dusty lunar landscape in the background. They attached construction vessels to the outside and had people in full spacesuits repaired the once beautiful structure.

"Call Cole," she announced.

A light illuminated above her. She took several deep breaths and then her viewer announced, "The person you are trying to reach is not answering."

They were close enough to still send video calls.

She sent him a text message.

Hope: Answer your viewer!

There was a finite amount of time before they would be out of range and forced to send messages. The air pressure compressor kicked in, whirred, and popped her ears.

The hologram of Maria appeared next to her and said, "My name is Maria Gonzalez and Hope Anderson is my number one fan." She gave her million-dollar smile and held up her index finger. "You have an incoming call."

She had kept the number one fan message, but only for communications from her.

"Answer call."

The real Maria appeared with no makeup, tear-streaked face, and wearing a black dress. Behind her was the dust and bloodstained hallway they just departed with Cole and his uncle behind her. "I came here to say goodbye and give my condolences, but you had already left."

"I was trying to call Cole, but he wasn't answering."

"Hey, Cole!" Maria waved her hand in front his face. He had not moved, still on the floor with his back against the wall. Cole did not respond. His uncle sat next to him.

Maria knelt and embraced him. "I am so sorry, Cole. Your mom was an amazing woman. And I heard your father changed his mind and came back for her. I'm glad they were together, when..." Maria wept and hugged him again. "I am so sorry, Cole." She kissed his forehead.

Cole's uncle said, "We're both still in shock."

Maria rose and said to his uncle, "My condolences to you for losing your brother, and sister-in-law, but Cole should be with them," she gestured at the departed transport, "not you."

Maria pivoted and faced Hope. "I wanted to rush over here, but I was with Skye and her dad. He's not taking this well. I thought that I still had time. Give my love to your family and take care of yourselves. We are praying for you. We know it's bad now, but you will persevere." Maria's mother appeared behind her.

Her signal disconnected and then Maria reappeared. That would only get worse.

Hope interjected, "I'm losing you. Thank you for calling Maria. I'll message you later. Please give Cole another hug."

Her image vanished again, and she announced, "End call."

After the Lunar Docking Station became too small to see, she changed her focus to the moon.

Gone. His parents died, and they did not allow him to join them, his actual family. Her grief and anger combined into an uncontrollable rage. It might be years before she would see Cole again. Yet, her mom just lost her best friend, forever. Her mom had it far worse than her. Hope placed her arm over her mom's shoulder and squeezed.

"I'm so sorry, babe." Her father held her mother on the other side around her waist. She sobbed into his shoulder. They were still in the entryway. The ship gained speed steadily. When her view of the moon disappeared, she turned around and realized they were alone. Just the three of them in the empty docking bay. Three. That would be their number for quite some time. She recalled the reason and cried again. This time against her mother's shoulder.

"Let's go find our room," her dad said.

Hope had memorized the map of the transport during her training at Bett Prep, knew that down that hallway and to the left was the housing area, and pointed in that direction.

Her father winked at her, and they slowly headed there. They moved at a crawling speed, being more concerned with holding each other up than getting there. Her initial adrenaline had worn off. Now, she felt like she had just finished a marathon and had exerted all her energy during the race. Her raw, irritated throat tickled, which forced her to cough.

The ceilings went up five stories high, which appeared enormous. She envisioned it being more cramped. The polished gray metallic floors reflected the light from above. The walls and ceiling were black, and they had placed a window every one-hundred feet, so they could view the stars. After several minutes, they reached the end and the living area laid in front of them.

They had designed the living quarters like an indoor two-story motel and had to be entered from the outer walkway. They connected them to conserve energy with the rooms split down the middle.

"We will be in room 62." He motioned down the hall, and they meandered there together.

They passed number 61. That would have been for Cole's family. Someone had placed a black ribbon over his door handle, with "Never Forget" written in white. Her father held their door open, and they went to the couch and Hope passed out from exhaustion in her mom's arms.

Cold crept into every cell of Hope's body. She opened her eyes. Darkness enveloped her. When she tried to raise her hands, she could not. They pressed against subzero ice. She felt around, but it encased her. Her instinct to flee took over and she flailed her body to break free. Nothing moved.

Where was she?

How did she get here?

She tried to breathe, but the air in her frozen tomb had no oxygen. Despair and isolation overwhelmed her.

Footsteps vibrated on the ground above her, and her survival instincts took over again. She must get that person's attention to escape. Both hands punched repeatedly against the ice, slowly breaking through and inching up toward the faint light at the top. Every blow ached, bloodied her knuckles, and sapped her desire to fight, but she still pressed on. Now, with no oxygen left, she struck a final blow against the frost. It did not break, and the person strode away in the distance.

Hope woke up screaming.  Her dad still laid next to her and he caressed her hair and whispered, "Don't worry. It was only a dream."

That reminded her of the nightmares she had about losing Cole. But she had never felt this abandoned and hopeless before. Too drained for jinxes, she fell back to sleep.