Chapter 1- A Castle to the Sky
Clark was building a sandcastle with his brother, a magnificent formation that would be bigger than any he’d seen before at the beach. He loved the beach and often thought of his time at the ocean with his mom and dad. He and his brother were younger then, his brother still a novice at building sandcastles.
How many times had they actually gone to the beach, perhaps only one glorious vacation? Maybe, his memory was failing him, but he could still clearly see his mom jumping up from her blanket and running towards the ferocious surf, his dad taking off after her kicking huge mounds of white sand behind him. Clark’s mom ran right through the crashing waves, and disappeared beneath them. His dad dove into the first crashing wave he encountered. Clark held his breath waiting for them to re-emerge. When they broke the surface holding each other in a tight embrace bobbing up and down kissing and laughing above the crashing waves, Clark began to cry. Staring down at the orange surface, Clark snapped out of his daydream and broke into hysterical laughter.
A shadow covered him.
“What’s so funny, dummy?”
“Nothing,” answered Clark, no longer laughing, doing his best to suppress the smile
under his mask. He brushed away the curly, light brown locks that covered his eyes.
Clark’s brother towered over him. His long, flowing blonde hair reminded Clark of his
mom. She was tall, and thin, too, but the shadow his brother cast was far longer.
“Just keep digging. We need to be back by 1800 hours if we’re going to have time to
clean up before dinner.”
Clark watched his brother turn and walk back towards the castle, then drop to his knees in
front of the sandcastle. Clark admired his brother’s work. Even with this more challenging grain of sand, his brother was more a sculptor than builder of sandcastles. Suddenly, his brother turned back towards him. Clark detected a glare in his eyes over the mask that surely covered his disapproving frown.
Clark went back to digging, this time more furiously. However, this was not like the soft, white sand from the beach back home. Clark had a difficult time digging into the heavy, gravelly, orange substance on Polaris. Clark shoveled small amounts at a time into his large yellow pail. He wanted so much to impress his brother, but was frustrated by the slow process. The orange dirt was packed too densely and Clark’s shovel made minimal penetration. Clark’s arms ached from applying so much pressure, although he certainly wasn’t going to tell that to his brother.
Exhausted by the time his pail was filled, Clark barely managed to lift the container. He carried the pail carefully and dumped the orange dirt next to the castle forming a new pile, then stood waiting for some form of acknowledgement, or possibly praise.
“You need to be more careful with that stuff,” his brother admonished him instead, brushing the sand that had fallen off the pile away from the castle. “You don’t want to damage the castle. Do you?”
Clark stood beside the castle looking at his brother, his ego deflated.
“Go back and dig, dummy. We’re running out of time.”
Clark trudged back towards his digging site, kicking the hard, orange crust along the way
and mumbling to himself, “Time is all we’ve got.”
Clark dropped the pail at his feet, then risked another gaze back at his brother. He couldn’t help but stare at his brother’s creation, three towers fully formed, each larger than the previous one. All were fashioned in incredible detail. The castle reminded Clark of an old Scottish palace where the Queen of England might have lodged. Clark believed his brother intended each successive tower to reach further into the sky, getting closer and closer to their old home. Clark envisioned hundreds of towers by the time the castle was completed, but was sad the castle would soon be covered in the shadows of the rising structures around them, including the apartment building in which he and his brother would live.
When the boys left Earth, Clark felt like a character in the first Superman episode. He had watched the episode over and over with his dad. The episode begins with the planet Krypton undergoing internal seismic pressures, nearly ready to explode, or implode, but Jor-El, Superman’s father, prepared for the devastation. He built a rocket ship that would take his boy to Earth, but only his boy. Clark often wondered how he would feel leaving his home planet like Superman, without his parents, and then he was forced to leave Earth in a similar fashion with his big brother in tow. Now, he wondered if the first Superman episode inspired his dad. How could his mom go along with such a hare-brained scheme? Why would his dad build a ship just large enough to carry only he and his brother to safety and not the entire family, just like Jor-El did with his son? And to send them so far away! Life is not a comic book or a TV show. He and Kent were no superheroes. They would have no superpowers and few people to save on this new planet. Most likely, he and his brother would need saving, as had already happened more than once.
Clark sighed. Life was going to be a long, strenuous fight for survival on a new world. He and Kent would have to fend for themselves.
Startled by an immense shadow covering him, Clark looked back to see a massive module dangling from a crane hovering in the air about a hundred feet above him. There had been so much activity going on around them, Clark barely paid attention to the commotion, although the din should have been unbearable. Instead, Clark found living in a construction zone weirdly comforting with a variety of activity and noise as a reminder of his home in Montana.
The original plan hammered out by an international coalition on Earth was to build four vast cities. Clark learned about the plan from Commander Joel Howard. Commander Howard met with he and Kent the day after they arrived on Polaris to explain the goals for the planet, including the modifications made to the original plan. The first city was nearly in place and the Commander promised he and Kent their own living quarters once the settlement was completed. Until then, the boys would occupy the barracks assigned to them when they landed on Polaris. The boys lived in the barracks with about a hundred other men and women. There were eight housing barracks on Polaris, all divided into men’s and women’s wings accommodating a total of eight hundred and thirty-six people. Most of the people Clark met were astronauts, engineers, contractors, or diplomats. He had yet to see anyone near his age on Polaris, besides himself and his brother, and from what he was told, he assumed months would go by before any peers might arrive.
Clark wondered if he’d consider himself to be a kid anymore by the time others his age actually arrived on the planet. Clark still felt like a kid, although he determined he turned 18- years old by Earth’s calendar the previous week. He was 11-years old when he left Earth. The relationship of space and time was very confusing to Clark as his physical age was probably closer to a 14-year-old, the result of relativistic traveling for six and a half years.
The plan outlined by Commander Howard specified civilians would begin transporting to Polaris once the second city was completed, which Clark understood to be by the end of the year. Clark hoped someone his age would walk off one of the arriving supply spaceships, and wanted the first to be Kelly. Unfortunately, he was disappointed by each arrival with more astronauts, engineers, contractors, and diplomats disembarking from the arriving ships along with tons of supplies and machinery and no one to offer him companionship.
The consensus of the most brilliant minds in the scientific community was several years will pass before people on Polaris were capable of producing their own food. Therefore, a large number of the early supply ships carried materials and machinery necessary to build greenhouses and factories to produce and synthesize the products required for long-term survival on Polaris. Much of the unused storage space on those ships was used for prepared food products, particularly those packed with protein. The ships also contained clothing, crates filled with specially-designed oxygen masks, as well as the materials and equipment necessary to mass- produce the masks on Polaris. Polaris needed to be prepared for human occupation, or as Commander Howard explained to the boys, “This place didn’t come furnished.”
People on Polaris kept busy most of the time. There was so much to be done, which made a boring existence for Clark. He had his brother, but he had yet to find a role on the planet. The boys were allowed to roam free. Sometimes, they would sit in on project meetings without objection from the officials. Clark and Kent also spent entire days watching spaceships land and unload. They enjoyed seeing the machinery and building modules extracted from the ships. Clark’s favorite part was watching the slow, mesmerizing unfolding process. The compressed boxes transformed into huge containers and intricate-looking machines. Clark thought the unfolding machinery looked as if the pieces were performing a ballet. One time, Clark saw a large, long, rectangular box unfold into a 16-foot-tall vehicle. The driving machine was massive and foreboding once its final piece, a laser drill shaped like a cannon, locked into place at the very top of the vehicle. Watching the box unfold reminded Clark of Transformers, a 20th Century toy his dad brought home for him when he was very young and living in California. Clark owned the transformer for two days when Kent smashed the toy into tiny little pieces, screaming at Clark, “Stay away from the stuff on my side of the room.”
“I’ll bet that contraption can do more than neutralize us,” Kent said.
The boys received quite an education the past year six years, even if there were no schools to attend. Clark thought an informal education best for the situation he and Kent found themselves in, thinking a real school education to be insufficient or virtually useless for his ever- evolving world. Clark figured he’d learn enough watching everyone and everything very closely.
“Time to go,” Kent shouted.
Clark wasn’t sure how his brother knew the time. There were no watches on Polaris, and the sky remained the same shade of orange as when Clark woke in the morning. He supposed the sun had moved a little. Clark grabbed the blankets he’d laid down on the orange crust and shook off the orange dirt that kicked loose onto them. He threw the blankets over his left shoulder, then picked up his yellow pail and walked towards the castle.
Clark waited next to the castle while Kent put the finishing touches on the third tower and smoothed the rough edges at its base.
“Maybe, you should have built a moat around the castle,” Clark suggested.
“What for, dummy?” his brother asked, adding an exaggerated laugh. “It’s not as if
there’ll be any crashing waves to wipe it out.”
Clark felt deflated again. Kent rose to his feet and put his arm around Clark’s shoulder. They trudged together through the gravelly surface and took a path between two giant cranes towards their barracks. Clark understood this was his brother’s way of apologizing as Kent would never say he’s sorry, even if he felt remorse.
“Do you know what I miss most?” Clark asked Kent.
“No, I don’t, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Colors, Kent. I really miss colors, other than orange, of course.”
When the boys returned to their barracks, First Engineer Sarita Ti Maria was waiting at
the door for them.
“Where are your hard hats?” she asked sternly as the boys were stepping inside and
removing their masks.
Kent rolled his eyes, but Sarita was having none of it.
“This is a construction zone!” she admonished them. Sarita directed her anger mostly
towards Kent. “We’ve already lost three men much tougher than either of you to falling debris. You’re supposed to be the big brother.”
“Isn’t it bad enough we have to wear these stupid masks?” Kent complained.
“Hey; I’m the one who invented these stupid masks,” Sarita protested, feigning hurt feelings. Sarita laughed as she walked past Kent. She stopped in front of Clark and mussed his hair, then smoothed out the knots and carefully pulled the curls out with her fingers. Clark smiled at her, although he felt embarrassed thinking he looked like a goofy kid. Sarita sat down on the bed next to him.
When Commander Joel Howard first introduced the boys to Sarita in his office the day after they arrived on Polaris, he told them, “You may have trouble understanding this little lady’s accent, but you need to listen closely to her, because she might be the smartest woman, I mean person, you’ll ever meet.” Seeing Sarita’s disapproving eyes, Howard added, “besides your mom and dad, of course.”
Clark appreciated the commander acknowledging his mom and dad. Howard was well- built. His muscular body accentuated his snug, highly decorated uniform.
“And the masks you’ve been wearing,’ Howard continued, “were envisioned by Sarita. She’s the one who created them.” He dangled his mask in front of the boys like he was doing show and tell in the classroom. “Without these masks, we wouldn’t be able to suck in enough oxygen to breathe outside these walls, but we’d surely take in more than enough poison to kill ourselves. These little babies increase our oxygen intake while filtering out all the other crap we don’t want or need.”
“Well said, Commander,” Sarita mocked him, although her cheeks turned a rosy pink.
“Wow,” said Clark, staring at the petite Argentinian woman standing before him. She was a small woman, barely reaching Howard’s shoulders. Her short, jet-black hair was luminous. Sarita’s deep, dark eyes reminded Clark of Bela Lugosi’s in Dracula, a film he’d seen on more than one Halloween night with his dad. Sarita’s eyes were just as penetrating as Lugosi’s, or the sensation of her gaze felt that way to Clark. Sarita’s voice was soft, but commanding, like Lugosi’s, both having a lilting accent, although her inflection Latin, not Romanian. Clark was sure he’d follow almost any command Sarita might give him.
“She’s tough,” added the Commander, “and one hell of a den mom, so you better listen to everything she says and be sure to show her respect.”
This time, Sarita rolled her eyes at Kent.
“Oh, great,” said Kent. Now, we’re stuck on this dreadful orange ball, a real pleasure palace.”
Sarita laughed. “This planet would certainly be less of a pleasure palace without me.”
Kent had hardly spoken a word to anyone but Clark since they’d first arrived on Polaris. The exception was Sarita, although his responses to her often sarcastic. Clearly, he moved on from his interest in Jo. Sarita was beautiful, too, although in a different way. Sarita was older than Jo. She was less flashy, although hardly conservative. Clark thought Sarita’s infectious, joyful laugh made her look younger and enhanced her beauty. She would be quite a catch for some older gentleman, although perhaps one not too gentle. Unfortunately, Sarita must be at least 20 years older than he, and too old for Kent, too.
Sarita mussed, then smoothed out Clark’s hair again. He felt ashamed thinking of Sarita in that way, then defended himself thinking there wasn’t anyone in his age group on Polaris to think about. What else would she expect from a teenage boy?
Sarita unexpectedly jumped to her feet and sashayed across the dusty floor of the barracks as if hearing music playing in her head.
Kent eyes followed her, clearly enticed.
“If you mean a pleasure watching you dance, then I’m all in,” he said.
“She’s old enough to be your mom,” Clark admonished him, although probably more
jealous than concerned about their age difference.
“Thanks a lot, kid,” said Sarita, who stopped dancing. “I’m really not that old.” She
walked over to Kent and lightly slapped him on the top of his head. “Just too old for you.” She kept walking towards the door, then stopped to say, “Just wear your hard hat next time you go out. I don’t want you to hurt that pretty head of yours. It’s awfully hard, but not hard enough. And you, too,” she said to Clark, giving him a wink. “Now, I’ll take my leave so you slobs can clean yourselves before dinner.” She slipped on her mask and started for the door. Without looking back, Sarita raised her right hand and wiggled her fingers as she walked out the door.
Kent shouted back at her, “Yeah, as clean as I can get from a 90-second shower,” but Sarita already left the barracks. Kent turned to Clark and shook his head. “That woman will be the death of both of us.”
“You just have to be patient, Kent,” Clark implored, “and wait for a girl your own age.”
“Nice hair,” Sarita said to Kent as the boys entered the dining room.
“Damn showers,” Clark heard Kent mumble under his breath as he ran his fingers through his hair one more time. Kent reached into his pocket and pulled out a stretch band, then tied his hair in a ponytail.
Clark was excited to be invited for dinner among such a distinguished group of Polaris officials.
“Good evening, boys,” Polaris Assistant Commander Raina Fernandez welcomed the boys as they reached the table. Clark tried his best to be inconspicuous as he sat down. “If I may please continue?”
The boys nodded at Raina. Raina was a pleasant-looking woman, but all business, or so Sarita had told Clark. Although a bit plump for her medium height, Raina was well-proportioned and pretty. Clark stared at her thick, dark, wavy hair dangling over her brow. The hair had a striking appearance covering much of her wide visage, a contrast to her soft Spanish accent that was easy on Clark’s ears. Clark expected a huskier voice out of a woman with her frame. Raina
was considered tough, but fair by her foes and fought hard to gain her position as Assistant Commander thwarting those who felt the position should go to a commander from one of the Power 5 countries. Spain was not included among the power elite.
Clark surveyed the rest of the table. Also present was Commander Howard, who sat at the head of the table on Clark’s left with Kent sitting between Clark and Howard. Silvo Paskina, the City 1 Commander sat at the other end of the table opposite Howard. Raina was positioned to Howard’s left opposite Kent, and Sarita sat opposite Clark.
“I’ve been informed by our communication’s chief,” Raina continued, “a delegation from Eastern Europe, including Russian Chief Engineer Yuri Boronovic, is expected to arrive on Polaris in 10 days.”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up at Raina, some wide-eyed with mouths agape.
Raina paused to take a bite of her salad and chewed the morsel slowly.
After several seconds, Silvo broke the silence by introducing himself to the boys. “I’m Silvo,” he said, “but you can call me Captain America.”
Like Howard, Silvo wore his uniform proudly, although there were fewer medals and
ribbons hanging off his navy-blue commander’s jacket. Silvo certainly didn’t look much like Howard, his long, black, straggly hair tied in a pony tail, much like Kent’s, and he had a morning shadow on his face. Howard was clean-shaven and had short-cropped ginger hair, like a Marine back on Earth. Silvo could be mistaken for a 20th century hippie, if not for the uniform, accentuated by the one gold hoop earring that dangled from his left ear. Although not nearly as tall as Howard, Silvo was equally imposing, his chest broad and his arms thick and muscular. Clark thought he wouldn’t want to mess with either of the two.
Silvo offered his hand to Clark. Clark grabbed the massive paw and watched his much smaller hand disappear inside Silvo’s strong grip. Clark flexed his fingers after letting go, then watched as Kent shook Silvo’s hand.
“He’s an avid motorcyclist,” Sarita explained, “like the guy in that movie.” She laughed, apparently not remembering the title. “He’s also a NASA pilot turned astronaut who worked with your dad. They were once very good friends.”
“It’s called Easy Rider,” Clark blurted out, then turned to Silvo. “So, you’re a friend of my dad. What does she mean by once?”
Clark turned to look at Kent for his reaction, but he said nothing still fidgeting with his hair.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but we must get back to business,” Commander Howard insisted. “The European delegation will arrive in ten days. Hmm. That’s way ahead of schedule. I wasn’t expecting to meet the Russian Chief Engineer so soon, certainly not at our preliminary meeting. Is it possible the European delegation intends to push for breaking ground earlier than the date we agreed upon?”
“We can talk about that later, kid,” Silvo whispered to Clark, and then addressed the rest of the table. “Clearly, we have concerns about their motives. I am sure there are reasonable representatives in the delegation, but I doubt we can trust all of them and certainly not Yuri Boronovic.”
“Don’t we have to trust them?” asked Sarita.
“Of course, we do,” insisted Commander Howard. “We must follow the plan.” “Plans do change,” said Raina while chewing her last bite of the salad.
No one else at the table ate at all, besides the boys, who both stopped mid-chew.
“We can’t change the plan,” insisted Commander Howard. “Not after we spent more than two years hammering out an international agreement to please everyone. Although the agreement clearly hasn’t pleased everyone, we must implement the plan because it’s the best chance we have if we are going to survive on this God-forsaken planet.”
“No, the plan certainly didn’t please everyone,” interrupted a small Chinese man who appeared next to Commander Howard. The man had a thin mustache and an eerie smile Clark thought to be more of a sneer. “Of course, the major powers imposed their wills on the rest of the planet,” he continued, “meaning planet Earth. If we hadn’t taken charge, none of us would be here today.”
“How long have you been listening to our conversation, Han?” asked a startled Commander Howard. Rising to face Han, Howard towered over him making the intruder look smaller and less significant. “I greeted you at the door tonight, Chief Engineer Lee, but I don’t remember inviting you to join us for dinner.” Howard’s stone face broke into a wide grin. “However, please sit down and join us, Chief Engineer. Will someone please get an extra chair for our guest?”
“I’d prefer to stand,” insisted Han, his expression unchanged at first. “Not to be disrespectful, of course,” he added, the forced smile showing his shiny, white teeth.
“Of course, you’re not being disrespectful, Han. I am kidding.”
The Commander sat back down and turned to the others at the table. “We have more than 800 people settled on Polaris right now, and if all goes according to plan, another 50,000 will arrive within the next four to five years. That is something of which we can all be proud, so I offer a toast to all of us.”
Howard reached for two glasses on the table, both filled with a pale red liquid, and stood again. Handing one glass to Han, he lifted the other towards the group.
Everyone arose, including the boys, and lifted their glasses. Clark noticed his and Kent’s liquid seemed paler than the others.
“To Polaris, our home,” Howard shouted, clinking his glass against Han’s startling the little man. “To peace and prosperity for all.”
Everyone at the table repeated in unison, “To Polaris,” and added, “Amen,” before touching glasses in the spirit of good will. Clark felt embarrassed chanting late and unable to reach the glasses at the other end of the table. He gave up trying to keep up with the others in the toast and poured the sweet drink through his lips.
“And to all those people who still hope to make it to Polaris,” added Sarita after taking a small sip. Everyone gestured again with their glasses, shouting, “Amen” a second time. Those with liquid left in their glasses poured the rest down before taking their seats.
Clark had nothing left in his glass, so he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and took his seat. He whispered into Kent’s ear, “You’d think they’d let us drink the real thing.”
Kent chose to ignore him, instead addressing the group. “When do you expect the first civilians to arrive on Polaris?”
“We almost forgot about our young companions,” said Commander Howard, laughing knowingly. “You boys must have a lot of questions.”
“According to Communications Chief Lea Michaels,” Silvo jumped in, “we still have no definite count on the number of ships that have left Earth, if any, since the first deployment eight Earth years ago. A mishap on Station A has limited our communications with the station, so we only know of those ships in communication with Space Station Z, or those that have already docked there.”
“We can’t even say for sure whether Earth still exists,” Commander Howard interjected. “According to the plan, once our second city is finished, which should be in about six months, we expect the first civilian ships to arrive on Polaris. We don’t know how many to expect.”
“Of course,” said Sarita, “we can’t be sure other ships won’t arrive ahead of schedule, either. I mean, look at these two.”
Clark shrank in his seat, but Kent responded defiantly, “Sure, and if conditions have gotten so much worse on Earth as the Commander has suggested, there could be a lot more ships landing here real soon, ready or not.”
“All of the proposed scenarios could be correct,” said Silvo, “so we must be prepared for each of them. And the possibility no one else will come at all.”
“That’s absurd,” said Sarita. “We are in contact with Station Z and there are many ships already at the station awaiting the right time to travel to Polaris. Of course, we must prepare for various scenarios, but I doubt no one else will be coming.”
Clark tuned out of the conversation, already shaken by the thought Earth might no longer exist, possibly meaning the same for his mom and dad. He was also bothered by the confrontational tone, too Earth-like for him. He hoped things would be different on this new world.
Clark was drawn back into the conversation once the subject changed to food and everyone was laughing again. He preferred the casual tone and went back to eating his dinner, although his food had cooled down significantly. Still, he thought the food was very good.
Clark was thankful for the great progress made in the development of synthetic food processors. He remembered when food synthesizers became a necessity back on Earth after a significant loss of farmland. Many of the provisions produced by the early synthesizers were tasteless, chewy, and stringy, particularly the proteins, which were often difficult to swallow. Great quantities of water were needed to get the food down and there wasn’t enough water to go around. This chow went down easy and left a nice aftertaste. The dessert was even tastier, a fruit-like pie that was both sweet and tart with a crust that crumbled lightly as he sliced his fork through his portion. The cream on top was quite unusual, unlike anything he’d ever tasted. For a brief moment, Clark forgot his surroundings and imagined himself in Willy Wonka’s world. Clark took another bite. Sorry Jo, he thought, but Chef Antonio’s cannoli weren’t this good.
After dessert and another hour of conversation, Clark felt anxiety building in the pit of his stomach and wished he’d eaten less. Others at the table excused themselves and were milling about, some preparing to leave. There was a slow exchange of goodbyes. Clark wanted to get up, but had mixed feelings about going back to the barracks and to more of the terrors he’d conjured in his mind each night, some while remaining wide awake.
Clark rose feeling a little unsteady. Kent was saying his goodbyes, but Clark decided to skip them, needing some space. He reluctantly put on his mask, then stepped outside of the dining hall still disoriented. Clark wondered if he actually drank the real stuff instead of a watered-down version for kids. He stumbled around outside while waiting for Kent to join him, his depth perception affected by the mask. He was now anxious to return to the barracks, feeling his quarters could be the safest place to be as long as he remained awake. Clark tripped on an orange stone and rolled his ankle. He shouted an obscenity, then felt embarrassed he had drawn notice from a couple walking nearby. They stopped to stare at him. Clark looked away and bent over to rub his ankle. When the couple walked away, he straightened up and angrily kicked the rock almost falling again. Clark berated himself as he regained his footing. “Pathetic!”
Clark lurched backwards to avoid being hit by a rapidly approaching motorcycle. The tires screeched as the bike came to a halt just in front of Clark, a cloud of orange dust kicking up around him.
“Hey, kid, do you need a ride?” asked Silvo. Once the dust settled, Clark recognized Silvo sitting on a huge, shiny, black motorcycle with flashing streaks of fire painted on its sides.
Embarrassed again by his awkwardness, Clark straightened up one more time and brushed off the orange dust that landed on his jacket. He stared in awe at the City 1 Commander sitting high on a huge Harley Davidson, just like the one he had once seen in a photograph he’d found inside the drawer of his dad’s bedside table.
“They let me bring my horse,” said Silvo, chuckling beneath his mask. “Being a famous astronaut comes with special privileges. Sorry, no helmets.” He shrugged at Clark.
“Thanks, but I’m waiting for Kent. Maybe, next time.”
“Okay, kid. Whatever you say.”
Clark took another step back as Silvo revved the bike again. Off the beast roared with
Silvo leaning forward over the handlebars and leaving another cloud of orange dust behind.
Back inside the barracks, Clark tried to coax Kent out of his cot. “Come on, just one more game. You can’t quit while you’re ahead.”
“That makes a lot of sense, dummy. If I can’t quit until I’m losing, then we’d be up all night.”
That’s exactly what Clark wanted, but he wasn’t going to tell that to Kent. He wasn’t going to give Kent an inkling he was afraid to go to sleep and scared of having nightmares. Clark wished their mom was there to comfort and embrace him, to keep him safe.
“Will you two shut up and go to sleep?” a male voice cried from the back of the barracks.
“Sorry,” said Clark sheepishly. He dropped the cards onto the table and turned off his lamp, then plopped down on his cot.
“Dummy,” he heard in a hushed tone from the next cot. “Just go to sleep!”
It wasn’t long before Kent was snoring. He was not alone, a virtual chorus of noise in various times and tones, a dissonant symphony of men. The women on the other side of the barrier, Clark assumed, were quieter, or at least their breathing more melodic. Clark lay awake for what seemed like hours listening to the cacophony of noise. He eventually fell asleep and into his recurring dream, the nightmare he’d seen too often, and sometimes while wide awake.