Episode 21. Back from the Brink

As soon as we enter the airlock, a strange feeling washes over me. The air is colder than in the rest of the vessel, thick with a metallic, slightly stale smell, like a space that has remained hermetically sealed for too long. Goosebumps rise along my arms under the bite of this sudden chill, a brutal contrast with the damp heat of my body after all that effort.

My sports bra is soaked with sweat, stuck to my skin. I do not know whether it is adrenaline or exhaustion, but my muscles feel both clenched and drained.

Suddenly, the walkie-talkie clipped to my belt spits out a burst of static that makes me jump.

No time to wrestle with the radio. I clip the walkie back to my belt and turn toward Manu.

Through the window, a chilling vision hits me full force.

Silhouettes lie scattered across the floor, piled against one another in a disturbing stillness.

A shiver runs up my spine.

I seize the control panel and type in my access code without thinking.

The hatch opens with a metallic click, revealing the scale of the disaster.

The air is heavy, saturated with humidity and the stale smell of confinement.

The silence is almost total, broken only by a few muffled groans.

I move forward carefully, my gaze sliding over these motionless bodies.

I bend over one of them and press my fingers against his neck.

A weak pulse.

Barely perceptible.

He's already disappearing down the corridor when I grab the walkie.

Unable to reach the bridge, I head toward the cockpit.

If Angie is still alive, that is where I will find her.

And that is also where I will be able to restart the module's life-support system.

I have to act fast, because there are more than a thousand passengers here... and part of my crew.

The door is ajar.

I force it open by sliding it sideways and enter the cockpit.

Angie is there. Unconscious. Slumped in her seat, facing a console gutted by the beam that collapsed.

On the left, I tear away a panel concealing the emergency activation for life support.

I grab the lever and turn it all the way.

A mechanical breath starts up. Ventilation restarts.

I do not waste a second. I rush to Angie and slide her onto the floor. No reaction.

I press my ear close to her mouth. No breathing.

I take her wrist, searching for a pulse. Nothing.

For an instant, fear threatens to overwhelm me. I push it back.

I rip open her sweater with a sharp motion and immediately position myself.

My hands settle at the center of her chest.

I begin compressions.

Hard. Steady. Again. And again.

Thirty compressions.

Then I give her two rescue breaths.

I start again. Compressions. Breaths.

Time no longer exists.

Then suddenly, a gasp of air. A cough. A tremor. I stop dead.

I barely have time to savor this fragile relief before Manu's voice cuts through the silence and brutally brings me back to reality.