The Moonwalker

Chapter 11

December 19, 2036

At -43 ℃, the air itself seems to freeze. Nothing makes a sound. The sky is alive with starlight. Aula sniffles and feels all her nose hairs freeze. Her jacket is good down to -40 ℃ but tonight is pushing it. Any exposed skin has the moisture sucked out of it. She waits with her hands shoved into her pockets and looks down each lane of the highway. The luminescent road markings glow turquoise. They charge during daylight and shine at night. A pair of red tail lights fade into the darkness.

The gas station's door jingles when Sophia steps out. She carries a coffee in each hand.

"No milk," she says and hands one over. "What he had inside was half-way to cheese."

Aula takes a gulp and winces. It tastes like soap.

Sophia saunters around the truck and gets into the passenger side. It's like the old days. Aula takes another drink and gets into the driver's seat. The cab's still warm. She seats the coffee in the cupholder and then turns the ignition. Her old '34 Chevy rumbles to life. The heater comes on full blast and soon she's sweating underneath her jacket. She reaches for the centre of her chest. It's where the buckle would be if she were in a cockpit. She quickly fastens her seatbelt and throws the truck into gear.

It's nice to drive again. Aula turns the heat down and clicks on the radio. An alternate rock station fuzzes in and out. Some old songs, some new songs she's never heard of. It's something to fill the cab. The highway stretches sinuously ahead between two thick walls of evergreens. Two pairs of orange street lights flick on as they pass. Her Chevy's headlights illuminate the way ahead. Nothing is quite as dark on Earth. There's always light tucked into the atmosphere. Airglow. Northern lights. The Moon. That's what throws her the most. She's used to a blue crescent in her sky.

Sophia sips noisily. "How's your jetlag?"

"Better."

"Used to Earth gravity again?"

"Almost."

"I can drive if you're tired."

"I know."

"Okay." She stares down at her cup. "How's Harvey?"

Aula squints at the horizon. "He's fine."

Neither of them speak for a while. They near an intersection. Sensors in the road activate and bright orange street light flare as they drive by, then darken in the taillights. The radio begins to fuzz until it's only white noise. She turns it off and glances at the rearview mirror. Nobody's behind them. The closest town is an hour and a half away. When she was young, it used to scare her to be between places on nights like this. Now it's nothing. The darkness in either direction is inhabited.

A white and black sign shines in the headlights, then flashes by. Slow down and move over when passing emergency vehicles. These long sections of road used to kill a lot of people. Twinning them helped, but there's not much to say when people hit the shit at 120 km/h.

"Dad saw a polar bear last month." Sophia nods as if there's a response. "Says it was nearly six feet long. I didn't know they grew that big anymore. It gives me some hope."

"You hope for an 800 pound land carnivore?"

"Yes, qallunaaq."

It's something Aula picked up while stationed up north. It softened into a nickname over time, but history still trailed after her. As an agent of the Canadian state, her presence stirred up a lot of old hurts.

"So, your family...." She clears her throat and glances at the side mirror. "They're doing alright?"

"Dad finally got his fingers looked at. Both were broken. Good thing he went to the clinic." Sophia shakes her head in despair. "Ann and Nelly are heading to Anchorage for the music festival."