Gone to Ruin

Prologue

Prologue

SCARLETT

Scream.

That is the only thought in my mind.

Scream.

The inky blackness surrounds me, pressing on with an impossible force. I can't get the sound out. This isn't possible. It can't be possible. I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe this is just a nightmare; one of those nightmares without a plot, nightmares that just infuse pure terror. But I never get nightmares. Do I? Do I get dreams? I can't remember, really, the last time I had a dream... Or really, the last time I did anything.

My memory is an abyss, just like what surrounds me.

Am I dead? Maybe in the life I can't remember, I was on a spaceship and I fell out. But you don't fall out of spaceships.

Girls my age don't go on spaceships, a tiny voice in my head whispers.

I open my eyes.

My age.

I'm eleven years old.

I pat my pockets—I seem to be in some sort of uniform, with leggings, a short-sleeved blouse, and a dress. I find a flashlight. I click the on button. When it stays dark, I bang the side on the palm of my hand. It flickers on.

I gasp. I'm not dead, nor floating in deep space as I first expected. I'm in something that looks like a curved metal room, with a wide window on one side.

I try to stand, stifling a shout when I start to float. Honestly, if I didn't see my body, I wouldn't think I was floating in zero—g. It feels like I'm falling. Endlessly falling.

It takes a few tries, but I figure out how to move, I float towards the window.

When I see a pile of space rubble floating in front of the backdrop of stars, it all comes rushing back.

I got home from school. I went to a Catholic school, sixth grade, in a sunny beach town. When I opened the door of out cookie-cutter one-story, I took off my shoes and walked to the kitchen. M mom was there, holding my baby sister Hope.

"How is the project going?" I asked her. I got an apple out of the fridge.

"Perfect," Mom replied. She bounced Hope. Hope giggled, her black curls spreading out on her head.

"Is it ready for orbit?" I asked, sitting across from her. I waved my finger in front of Hope and she cooed.

Mom's face darkened inexplicably. "Yes." She shook her head, as if to clear it, and then stood. "Hold Hope. I'm making you tea."

I rocked Hope, looking at her big brown eyes and soft hair. I had brown eyes too, but my hair was in dreadlocks dyed blond.

"Do you know what mom did?" I said to Hope in a baby voice. "Mom made a satellite that orbits a specific point in space, instead of the nearest gravitational pull."

"Gwa-pit-tay-shum-ull pull," Hope echoed.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Mom, Hope echoed again!"

"Oh, really?" Mom called from the kitchen. "Tell me when she starts talking on her own."

I frowned and looked at Hope. "Say it again." She tilted her head and said, "Tit again."

Mom came over. "How about we drink our tea in the garage and you can see the satellite?"

"Sure," I said. I carried Hope over.

In the garage, Mom took Hope and handed me a cup of warm tea. I drank it all in one gulp, ignoring the strange fact that it felt cold on my tongue, instead of hot.

I looked at Mom, who seemed to be feeding Hope a bottle of the tea. "Wait a minute..." I mumbled. "Something doesn't make sense..."

Suddenly, I felt a tingling all over my body., and it felt like a blanket of snow had settled over my thoughts, muting them. "I need to sit down..."

"Here," Mom said, opening the door to what I now realized was the satellite. "You can lay down in here.

I nodded, my head feeling like it weighed eighty pounds. I was so confused, so tired. I went in and basically collapsed onto the floor. Mom peeked her head in, a sad smile on her face.

"They are going to destroy us all," she whispered. "But you will be the only ones to live."

She placed Hope in the shuttled, somewhere out of my field of vision.

By now, I was too tired to do, or think, or say anything. Black spots clouded my vision, and as my eyelids fluttered shut, I heard one thing.

The first thing Hope said without echoing.

"Gone to ruin."
And then I blacked out. I slept, and slept, and slept.

I screamed when the flashback was over. I screamed, as loud as I could. I had no idea what was happening then, but now I know. Now I understand what happened.

Those rocks floating in front of me are Earth.

The satellite has been orbiting for hundreds of years.

Everyone is dead.

Mom knew.

Hope and I are the last humans.

Hope.

I push away from the window, suspended in a in a horizontal position in the air. Hope is still in this room, somewhere.

I look around, shining my flashlight until I find a light switch. I turn it on, flooding the room with a golden glow. The room is even more empty and small than I thought. In one corner is a pile of what looks like clothing. Mom probably put it in here while she was planning the whole "last humans in the universe" thing. In another corner is a basket. I float toward the basket. Half swimming downward, I pull the blanket off of it.

And I scream again.

She looks almost the same. Her eyes, which she just opened, are still big and brown. She still has a star-shaped birthmark on her left hand. She still has Dad's nose. She still has tiny pink lips.

But her hair.

Her hair is white. Not an old person white, but the bright, blinding white that seems to glow. And some strands seem to have precious gemstones in them, a pearl, emerald, or aquamarine that just grew into her hair.

And I know.

I know that she has changed.

I know that this is no longer Hope Santiago.

Hope Santiago is gone.

And so is Scarlett.

I pick up the baby. I look her in the eyes.

"You are not my sister," I say.

I take my hands away, letting her float.

"You are Echo. And you are the last."