Free Planet Purgatory by Benedict Martin Page A

could tell, there was no one home, and reassured by Rosie’s curiosity, I opened the door, only to be greeted by a scream.
    There was a lady in there, crouched on an old box spring mattress.
    “Who are you? What do you want?”
    I should have answered, but instead I found myself staring at the space before me. It was bizarre. Outside, the building appeared to be made up of discarded sheets of plywood and bits of lumber, yet inside, it was like stepping into someone’s bedroom. The walls were solid, like drywall, and painted a faded creamy purple, while a worn gray carpet was littered with old clothes.
    “Who are you?” she repeated.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just curious to see if anyone was inside.”
    I was still in shock at how “Earthlike” the place was, and without thinking, I entered, running my hand along the wall while Rosie introduced herself the only way Rosie can — by jumping on the bed and sniffing the cowering woman’s head, her stumpy tail wiggling at lightning speed. Rosie-dog liked her. The poor woman, though, was terrified, and I called Rosie back onto the floor while the woman remained rolled up in a ball.
    “She doesn’t mean any harm. She’s just being friendly.”
    The woman peeked out from beneath her arms, first at Rosie and then at my gun. “Who are you?”
    “My name’s David, and this is my dog, Rosie. I was curious about your hut. I really didn’t mean to scare you.”
    “Hut? But this is my bedroom.”
    She looked so confused. Placing my knapsack on the floor, I reached into my shirt pocket and offered her a cigarette. “Do you smoke?”
    I’d never seen anyone’s hands tremble so violently. It was so bad I had to light the cigarette for her, but the moment she took her first puff, she visibly relaxed, leaning against the wall while a plume of tobacco smoke rose to the ceiling.
    “Thank you,” she said.
    She was pretty. In fact, she reminded me of my first wife, with her brassy hair and full lips. So much so that when she told me her name was Jackie, I blinked.
    “Is something wrong?”
    “Sorry, that was my wife’s name. You look a lot like her. It caught me by surprise.”
    “ Was your wife’s name? Is she dead?”
    “No, just divorced,” I said, forcing a smile.
    I was never good at small talk, especially with the opposite sex, and I sat down on a folding chair while Jackie smoked her cigarette. She was new to this place, that much was obvious, and forgetting my shyness I began to probe, hoping to uncover the detail that would prove my theory about what this hellhole really was.
    “How long have you been here?” I asked.
    Jackie looked at me and slowly shook her head. “I don’t know …”
    “What’s the last thing you remember? Besides being in this room. What were you doing?”
    “I think I was driving home from work.”
    “Do you remember anything unusual happening?”
    “Unusual how?”
    “I don’t know, maybe an accident?”
    Jackie’s face darkened. “What are you getting at?”
    “Nothing. Just asking questions. What about a spaceship? Do you remember anything about signing up to be a colonist on a different planet?”
    “Is that what this is? I’m a colonist on a different planet?”
    There was a glimmer of hope in her eyes, and after mulling it over, I fed her the same lies I was working so desperately hard to disprove.
    “Yeah, that’s it. You’re a colonist. It’s a thirty-year journey to get here, and you’ve just emerged from suspended animation.”
    I felt like a cad lying to her, yet at the same time, she looked so relieved, even joyful, jumping to stand on her bed with so much energy she nearly fell onto the floor.
    “You mean I’m an astronaut? Wow, I never thought I’d do anything like that!”
    She hopped onto the carpet, looking truly overjoyed until her smile was replaced with a frown.
    “But what about Brad? We were supposed be married in the fall. Did he come, too?”
    I watched as she