In The Dark

Two: Missing

We slowly made our way through twists and turns of charred and scrapped metal—the remnants of the Gratzner. I cringed at the sight of it. Was I the lucky one? It didn't take long for us to make it to where everyone was gathered. The woman was there again, the one with green eyes. I studied her for a moment, just to take in everything. Brown hair, a series of belts and tools, and dirt covered utility boots. Huh. Then there were eight more, including Zeke. I could tell from the corner of my eye that he was giving me a soft smile—not like the one before, but a comforting one. Take your time.

I looked around and everyone stared at me. Instantly, I started to blush. My eyes darted to the ground, finding sudden interest in my own feet. I could hear a deep chuckle from somewhere in the room, and a short scuffling of feet. A deep but soft voice followed.

"Do not be troubled, child," I looked up to see a man with dark skin in holy garbs, holding some sort of rosary in his calloused hands. It seemed as if he was going to say something else, when a squeakier, more irritating voice interrupted.

"Oh, good on ya, tellin' her not to be worried! We've crashed on a random bloody planet for god's sake!" My eyes moved to see a tall, lanky man in glasses and long antique robes. He flailed his arms as he spoke, as if to exaggerate the sarcasm in his words. "Do shut up, Paris. No one wants to hear you talk," another deep voice drifted from an equally tall man said in the corner of the room. He was leaning up against a table—arms crossed and blue eyes focusing on the man Paris in annoyance. Angry arguments began to rise—the entirety of the room engulfed in tension. After a few minutes of the dispute, the same deep voice from before silencing all.

"Please, please! " The holy man looked around at his fellow isolates in shock and disappointment. "It is one thing to make tensions rise in a situation like this, but to frighten children is another!" he said. His mannerisms portrayed anger, but his voice showed mercy. It was calm throughout everything—quiet and just. The two men who started the argument, Paris and the other, still glared at each other from across the room as the consecrated man continued.

"We were put here for a reason. If to redeem ourselves or be judged remains to be seen," there were eye rolls and soft groans from around the room, but no one interrupted the man's speech. "We must find a way off of this world together, and being at each other's throats will not help," He said, softer than ever. After studying his associates for a few short moments, he turned again to look at me.

"Now, child, what is your name?" He held an outstretched arm to me, offering his hand. Zeke walked me over to my surprise, and stood with me before the sanctified fellow. I took my hand that wasn't on the other side of Zeke and hesitantly placed it in his, speaking softly—my eyes returning to study my shoes.

"....Emma," I said. I glanced up and saw a genuine smile—one that reached the man's black eyes. "Lovely, my dear," he said, "My name is Imam, and these are my three sons, Hassan, Ali, and Suleiman." I looked over to see three tall boys standing close to Imam, all in robes like his own—turbans covering their heads. One looked me over anxiously, another shaking and looking in a different direction, and the last smiling faintly and blushing as he made eye contact with me. I nodded at them and smiled as best I could through the confusion and pain, then turned my attention back to their 'father.'

"You have already met Zeke and Miss Shazza," he said, nodding his head towards the woman from before—my eyes following. She smiled softly again, in a welcoming way. I did the same to her. Imam showed me all of the people in the room. The skittish man with the glasses' name was Paris, I remembered. There was a boy named Jack with a shaved head and brown eyes, and the man with the steel blues—Johns, I was told. There was another woman as well. Her name was Carolyn Fry. Each of the ten gave me their hellos—some friendly and some halfhearted—and I did my best to return their mannerisms kindly. Zeke moved to put me down on a makeshift chair so we both could rest, and I smiled at him gratefully. But I looked around a few more times and felt something was missing.

"Where are all the others? The Captain?" I asked. The room fell silent and any trace of optimistic energy was decimated. Imam spoke up softly once again, his sad eyes meeting mine from his place in the room.

"We few are the only ones, child," he said. "The Captain's wounds were too great to heal. We had no means to save him." My heart plunged again and my face showed sorrow like nothing else. There were soft murmurs about the lost, and from the corner of my eye I could see Carolyn holding her head in her hands. But the feeble words for the lifeless turned to curious whispers when Johns went to storm out of the room. Carolyn rushed after him before he could disappear.

"Where are you going, Johns? I thought we were sticking together," she scolded, and he whipped around to face her—challenge in his eyes. "Yeah, well unless you wanna be gutted in your sleep, Fry, I suggest you leave me be so I can do my job," he said, this time succeeding to leave without any hangers-on. I felt my brows come together in confusion.

"What job?" I asked to no one in particular, and then felt a small presence at my side. I turned and met eyes with my new visitor. It was Jack. He sat on his haunches and leaned in towards me.

"Johns is apparently a cop," he said, smirking softly at me in an 'I know something you don't' way. My face disclosed my untiring confusion and I spoke, eyeing Jack's face suspiciously, "And who does he need to hunt out there? Imam just said we were all that was left," I asked skeptically, and Jack's smirk dwindled a bit.

"No, you misunderstood," he said, and my lips parted in a silent question.

"There were twelve survivors."