I rest on the catwalk above the river's flow. I feel so faint from my recent exertion and the adrenaline rushing through my body that my energy level has bottomed out, leaving me on the verge of slumber. Averting death can be physically demanding. As I drift off, the Earth's current upheaval shocks a memory or a dream from somewhere in my mind, an electrical impulse shooting through my brain.

In Abraham's office, he leans against his desk, furrows his brow, and tells us we had better sit. Outside the window behind him, wind howls and rain beats upon the glass, whipping with violent intensity. Eve and I sit on the edge of our chairs, waiting for the news, and judging from Abraham's scowl, it's not good. He begins, words spilling from his lips and falling to the floor, part of his message lost amidst the storm raging outside.

"What did you say?" My mind blots out keywords that slip through the fray, crucial elements that my subconscious deems unsafe for my mental sanity.

His tone sharpens and his volume rises as he streamlines the gist of the message. "Because of technology failure, NASA scrubbed the launch."

"What?" Eve says. "Why?"

"I don't understand." I scoot up so close to the seat's edge I might go over. "We have to leave now. If we don't, we all die."

Abraham stares at us, eyes glistening like he's holding back a deluge. "We can board a cruise ship. They're doing it all over the world as a last ditch effort. As an alternative, we secured one fully stocked with food and supplies to last us a year while we come up with another plan. It'll only hold officials from the Johnson Space Center. We can survive... for a while."

"For a while?" Eve says.

"What technology failed?" I ask.

"The cryogenic hibernation chambers. We worked day and night on the problem. We didn't want to alarm anyone until we knew they wouldn't work." Abraham sighs and his hand goes to his head. "Everyone we put to sleep died. Something went wrong with the software for the life support systems, linking refrigeration and key components for survival."

"What else are you not telling us?" I sense he's holding back something critical by the way his other hand scrunches his pants leg.

"In the event we can't make it to the space ark, we agreed to a last-minute contract with Lucent Technologies."

"Wait a minute," Eve says. "Isn't that the firm that specializes in human cloning? They operated outside the States because congress wouldn't approve of what they were doing."

Abraham glances away. Twists his body on his desk to look behind him at the wind and rain pounding the window. "We already have everyone's DNA. Many people have donated eggs and sperm to give their children a chance one day. Lucent has mastered the technology to harvest the very essence of our being and drop it into a cloned body. What we look like. The way we sound. The way we think. They can even download our memories and transfer them into our clones. We could live again."

"But we would die," Eve says.

I reach over and squeeze her hand. "What about the cruise ship? How would we get to the ark if we can fix the cryo chambers?"

"The CEO of Lucent Technologies has ships in orbit that can pick us up."

"Why don't they pick us up now?"

"Because they only have enough food and supplies for their crews. For a year, just like us."

"When do we leave for the cruise ship?"

"Now."

The finality of Abraham's reply startles me awake, reinforced by another tremor that rattles the catwalk beneath me.

By the time I push to my feet, my heart thrums in my chest from the dream. As I gather myself, I'm reminded of what I just went through, what I just survived. The purpose of what I came here for feels like a distant memory. All these things are still somewhere in the back of my mind, waiting to see what comes next, taunting me for the fact I'm stranded. Regardless of the habitat's security and the creatures in search of prey, I remain on alert, listening and watching for any signs of a breach.

After removing my parka and dusting off my cargo pants and thermal shirt, I take a cautious stroll down the catwalk, hang a left at the central intersection, and cast my sights on the darkened enclosures that used to be our Animal Barn. We didn't clean up before we left. We just left. Stacks of hay border the insides of the holding cells, scattered on the floors, tracked out into the central corridor. Some troughs still hold feed and water, the former molded and stinking, the latter, stagnant, an attraction for mosquitoes when the temperatures warm up.

The habitat's backup generator should still have some juice. At the main power hub, I test it and discover there's still electricity to run the place. I'm stuck here. So, I need to see what I can do about it.

Back in the hallway between the labs, the floor vibrates with a mild aftershock. The earthquakes come and go sporadically. The volcano is unstable, especially after the most recent shaking. As a result, my nerves leave me jittery and on edge. Who knows when the next one will strike? And who knows when the volcano is going to blow its top?

I wish I could call Eve, but my hand radio is still in the tracer.

I'm out of range anyway, and other things cloud my mind at the moment.

With power restored, the seismic activity makes me want to examine the samples I took from the caldera lake. The designers equipped the Rock Lab with a variety of machines and devices that measure mineral levels in water and soil. An ion chromatography instrument detects compounds in the water and displays the results by percentage on a digital screen for analysis. Likely, there isn't a need to check the soil sample because the ground near the caldera absorbed the lake water. So, testing the water should be sufficient.

While I wait for the test to conclude, I get to looking around, my gaze roaming over to the doorway, half expecting Eve to walk by or stick her head in. It was our home once upon a time, despite the tumultuous experience we had here.

Wandering into the Embryo Lab, I remember my conversation with Eve, where we debated fleeing Jinx and the habitat. That was before we knew about the vile creatures, and before we partook of the knowledge of good and evil. Thinking about the memory transfer devices, the ear pieces possessing the good and bad parts of our lives, and thinking of when our memories from our past lives flooded our consciousness, gives me a creepy feeling, unsettling my stomach and ramping up my jittery nerves.

Back in the Rock Lab, after several minutes of waiting, with tremors rattling the habitat, the results flash across the small screen, showing significantly high sulphur levels in the lake. Not surprising. I'd like to cross reference the results with Jinx's database, but he's not here right now. Apparently, when he transferred his AI to the drone, he disassociated his consciousness from the habitat. If he was still linked to the hab, he would have contacted me by now. It seems he can access it when needed and disconnect at will. Or maybe something else is happening here?

The habitat shakes all around me, the consistent tremors building into another violent earthquake. Recessed lights rattle in the ceiling. It feels like the walls might fall in on me, but soon, the rumble fades to a slight tremble. With the way the earth is swelling in this region, bulging as geologic pressure builds, I don't know how much longer I have before something blows, taking me with it.

Which means, I will die if I don't get out of here soon, and I will never see my family again.