Dove Levy: Way Station

No way in hell am I staying here. I’m going to drive out to our meeting spot and wait there, where everything is dead like it should be. A crawling feeling has been scratching at my lungs. The thought of the spores somehow inside me is making me dizzy. I don’t want another look at the plants. I ran back to the garage before I’d found the cut off weather monitors and I’m not going back out to get it. That would mean I’d have to take it into the facility to patch up whatever damage it had sustained.

This isn’t— it shouldn’t be— I shouldn’t be freaking out like this. No, I should. No, I— I shouldn’t— I don’t know! I was expecting routine and concrete data and safety , above all. Not like— not real safety, I know we’re not safe here, everyone is dead . But safety from what should have already been dead and gone millions of years ago. There wasn’t supposed to be life. There are no recordings of life.

I remotely transferred as many of the available files sent from stations studying the life on POGE as I could onto my touchpad to read while I wait for Dr. Federman to arrive. Just sitting here in the car, still within the bounds of the facility’s lights, feels dangerous now. I don’t know if the spores are airborne or if they need to be ingested. I don’t know if they’ve gotten into my walking suit already, even though the air was added to the tank miles and miles out from Facility C and none of the contaminated air should have ever touched me. It’s not like I have any tests I can run for reassurance.

I need to get out of here. I need to breathe.

I fantasized about this job. That sounds weird, I know. Not about the planet, but about the work, about the bodies I’d have to examine. People don’t generally fantasize about dead bodies. I suppose I was too excited to get here to really care about that.

This should be my shining moment. I’m not helpless. I know how to take care of myself in a bad situation. I’ve been in plenty of them back on Earth, and most of those were due to living things. A place where everything is dead should be no problem. Under the assumption, of course, that everything actually is dead.

Feels like something’s following me. That’s ridiculous, right? That has to be ridiculous. If there were animals, actual animals, then there’s no way the stations wouldn’t have found out about them. They have to leave too many traces to go unnoticed for so long. Even if they couldn’t find fungus, they’d find animals.

Logic doesn’t help, though. Every little sound the car makes when it hits a pebble or root is magnified. Every jerk over a crack in the road is something falling down onto the car, every swish my suit makes when I turn the wheel is something slithering up against the walls. Maybe staying out in the woods for a day alone is less of a good idea than I’d thought, but the alternative is spending another night in the facility.

He might be early, too. He seems like the kind of person who would be early to plans. He’s meticulous in every other aspect of his job, and a better driver than I am. He’s also probably not on the verge of a panic attack.

I wish I could see the bracelet he’d given me. I need anything that might calm me down right now. But I don’t want to risk taking off my walking suit to get to it.

How nice it would be if he was already—

[yelp] [crunch]

[panting] That was a jolt back to reality. Didn’t think for a moment before I got out, and lo and behold, no monsters. Of course, there are no monsters.

The quiet stillness of POGE makes it easy to forget its potential for movement. Earthquakes are much more devastating out on the east end of the continent where the fault line lies, but there’s still a fair risk for them here, especially after such a severe storm. Severe by our standards, at least. I haven’t read up on how bad they can get here.

Road’s been ravaged since we last drove down it a couple days ago. The aftershocks must have hit the facility, but due to its design, we couldn’t feel a thing, same way the storm didn’t so much as make a crack in the outer walls.

The rest of the land does not have that protection, though, and looking at the… mess in front of me is a fair bit disheartening.

Car’s overturned after hitting a crack in the road that I couldn’t see due to the debris covering it… is what I wish I could say. Really, I was too caught up in thoughts of being stalked by some fictional creature out of a horror movie that I just didn’t pay enough attention. This is why Dr. Federman is the driver.

Front half is completely decimated, and if this were a planet with a generous amount of oxygen, the whole thing would probably be in flames right now and I could very well be dead, so there’s a plus. Dr. Federman is still far out of range of the portable radio, and the car’s radio is… unavailable, at the moment. If I want to reach him I either have to trek back to the facility, up to our meeting spot, or wait until he gets into range. Either direction is several hours of driving, and who knows how long of walking.

I hope he’s early.

He’s not early.

[radio static] H-hey, there’s been a problem,

When I asked him to take samples from Facility A, I didn’t mean dig up and bring back two entire bodies. He said I need to be more specific in my instructions next time.

Can’t tell if he’s teasing me or not.

We were right, though. The bodies are nearly identical now to those we’d found a few days ago. I’ll be updating my autopsy report before the communication channels open again now that cause of death is known, and I certainly won’t be eating a single thing that wasn’t dried and prepackaged back on Earth for the remainder of my stay here.

Dr. Federman seems almost cheery, which is… strange, but also a bit relaxing. His sense of humor is much drier than I’m used to, but the fact that he’s joking around at all takes a bit of the fear from me. And also makes me worry over how he’d managed alone. Sometimes the more outwardly happy someone is, the more they’re compensating. Hopefully, he fared better than I did. At least one of us needs to stay on top of the situation.

We’ll be leaving to Facility E soon on the way to the coast. Part of me is relieved to leave this place, but part of me doesn’t want to go. I don’t know if that’s because of the farm, how this building holds more of Earth than any other place on POGE, or if I just don’t want to get back in the car again, don’t want to feel like I’m going to snap at the smallest of sounds outside.

Fungus doesn’t mean there are animals, and certainly not ones large enough to hurt us.

Nothing is here with us. Nothing can be.

Dr. Eve Strauss, Research Facility E on the southern continent of Way Station, assisted by Dr. Isaac Federman. Walls are intact and the life support system is running at optimal capacity. Food storage and air supply are clean. All members of the research team were found between the 8- and 10-mile markers on the boundaries of the facility’s lighting, clustered around the eastern and southeastern side. No signs of struggle.

Examination review of Jerrell Conley, ID number 409, details in file. Full autopsy report in temporary file, pending transfer when communication channels open again. They were found standing and clothed in their walking suit 8.9 miles from the facility near a weather monitor by the eastern border in a similarly petrified state as those found in Facility B. Their right arm is broken off and their walking suit has large tears in the front and right sides of it, with many lacerations and cracks emanating from wounds below these tears along the face, torso, and right leg of the deceased.