DECEMBER TWENTY-FOUR
RUBEN KING
PLANET MARS
YEAR 2116
Ruben looked out the window.
He hadn’t left the rocket since they first landed.
There was no civilization. Just dirt. Dirt and the rocket and canned food and almost no water.
He looked at the badly dug grave outside. He knew he’d soon be one of them. The ones of them that had died over the years.
Ruben made a mark at the wall. He’d made hundreds of them. He counted them now. All of them. He counted them twice before he looked up again, out through the window.
It was christmas.
The thirthiest christmas on March.
He missed the snow.
He missed Bruna, Dana and Gaten.
They hated him. Had all right to hate him. He hated himself too. And he regretted everything.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to himself, to everyone.
It was christmas. If the Earth still existed, it was probably snowing. People were probably happy, celebrating. No one would come save them at christmas.
But they would be saved.
They just had to wait a little longer.
Ruben closed his eyes.
They would be saved.
He knew.
He hoped.
