Red Horizon (The Martian Fanfiction)

Chapter 37

SOL 198

The days dragged on, each one bleeding into the next with a grim monotony. Since Olivia's outburst, the fragile truce between them had settled like an uneasy ceasefire. They were both painfully aware of the reality—starving, exhausted, and clinging to survival with a grip that was slipping more with each passing sol. The knowledge hung between them like a weight neither could fully acknowledge. They were alive, yes, but only barely.

Olivia sat propped against the wall, her leg stretched out in front of her. The makeshift crutch Mark had fashioned for her rested against the side of the bed, always within arm's reach. She flexed her leg carefully, wincing as the familiar sharp pain radiated through her limb. She hated how she had to handle it delicately, as if it wasn't her leg anymore, but rather some useless, broken thing attached to her body. The throbbing was constant now, a dull ache that never left, but she had grown used to it, as one gets used to an old wound that never quite heals.

The physical pain, though maddening, wasn't the worst part. The knowledge that her leg would never fully recover—that it was forever crippled—was what ate at her most. She was marked by Mars in a way that wasn't going to fade, and every step she took, or failed to take, was a reminder of that. She would never be the same.

Across the room, Mark sat at the small table, his head bent over the notebook where he furiously scribbled and recalculated. Potatoes, once a symbol of his ingenuity, were now scattered across the table in small rows, reminders of their dwindling resources. The numbers didn't add up. They never did anymore. No matter how much he worked, crossed out, and tried again, the potatoes, like their odds of survival, were shrinking faster than he could stretch them.

The sound of his pen scratching on paper was the only noise in the Hab, and it grated on Olivia's already frayed nerves. She watched him in silence, her heart sinking as she saw the toll it was taking on him. The tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the pen too tightly, the hollow look in his eyes—all signs that the weight of their situation was crushing him. She knew he hadn't been sleeping. He was too consumed by the numbers, by the gnawing need to find a solution that wasn't there.

He was always the strong one—the unshakable presence, the one with a plan. But even Mark had his limits, and Olivia could see that he was nearing his breaking point. The realization filled her with both dread and a deep, aching sadness. If Mark broke, if the last bit of hope left in him crumbled, then what was left for either of them?

"How's it looking?" Olivia asked softly, her voice hesitant, though she already knew the answer. It was always the same answer now.

Mark didn't respond right away. His pen scratched more frantically, the lines of ink growing messier, less coherent. His movements had become more erratic over the past few days, as if he could outrun reality by outworking it. Olivia watched him, her heart heavy with concern. She could feel the tension building in him like a dam about to burst.

"Mark?" she repeated, her voice firmer this time.

He paused, his grip on the pen tightening until his knuckles turned white. For a moment, he just sat there, motionless. Olivia could almost see the war inside him, the frustration and despair bubbling beneath the surface, struggling to stay contained. And then, without warning, the dam broke.

With a sudden, violent motion, Mark slammed the notebook shut and hurled the pen across the room. It hit the wall with a sharp clatter, breaking the oppressive quiet that had settled over the Hab. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and buried his face in his hands. His whole body seemed to sag, as though the weight of everything was finally too much for him to bear.

Olivia's heart clenched. She had never seen him like this. Not Mark. Not the calm, practical problem-solver who always had an answer. But here he was, unraveling before her, broken under the crushing reality they had been forced to live in for so long.