It took Evan two days to get where he could sit up straight without the room threatening to spin off into space. Four times a day someone in an environmental suit visited him. He suspected it was the same suit, but with different people inside. His first visitor was his most frequent attendant and by the third day he no longer tried to jump out of the suit in order to get away from Evan, but still he had no idea where he was or who his captors were. They saw to his needs for the most part, but the longer he was stuck in his room, the more he wanted to escape. Continue reading
Evan was shoved through the airlock at his home and as soon as it sealed, the black hover car detached and drove off, presumably back to the hospital, but Evan imagined that it would end up in some dark, shadowy hanger filled with identical, non-descript cars used by his tormentors. He picked himself up off the cool floor and said, "Thanks for the ride, assholes." He wanted to feel more vindicated in his verbal assault, but it felt as hollow as his stomach. His sudden detachment from the hospital bed and its machinery had severed his connection to the IV lines that had sustained him during his stay. He could not remember if there was anything worth eating in his refrigerator.
Airlock (Photo credit: Beau B)
The physical airlock of his garage slammed shut and left Evan sitting in silence. The halogen lights of the immaculately maintained space. He did not spend much time with his car, but he did not want the space cluttered with belongings in case the airlock or the force field failed. Evan remember his parent's home on earth and the garage filled with boxes, tools, and a lifetime's accumulation of belongings to valuable to throw away, but not important enough to keep in the home. On the moon, parking in the driveway was not an option, so there always had to be room for the car in the garage.