Free After Earth by Christine Peymani Page B

we battled the Ursa—killing them, maybe, but also destroying ourselves? It all seemed so pointless all of a sudden.
    â€œDad?” I called over my comm unit. “Dad?”
    â€œI’m here.” It sounded like I had woken him up, but he snapped quickly to attention.
    I could tell he thought something was wrong, and I felt bad for worrying him just because I was miserable and bored. But since he was up now, I figured I might as well say what I had only now worked up the courage to ask. “How’d you do it? How’d you first ghost?”
    I wanted to know so I could do it myself, of course. But I also thought that understanding this about him might give me a key to understanding him .
    I expected him to tell me this was no time for stories, that I needed to focus on surviving and if I made it, maybe he would tell me. But he started talking right away, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask. It was probably pretty lonely back on the ship too. I hadn’t thought of that before now—I’d been so focused on my own loneliness.
    â€œI went out for a run. Alone. Something we’re never supposed to do. Ursa de-camos right in front of me. I go for my cutlass. Ursa shoots its pincer right through my shoulder.” The way he was talking, it seemed like he was still there, facing the Ursa. I wondered how often he relived that moment. Maybe constantly.
    â€œNext thing I know, we’re over the cliff. Falling thirty meters, straight down into the river. We settle on the bottom. It’s on top of me, but it’s not moving. And I realize, it’s trying to drown me. I’m thinking I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I can’t believe this is how I’m gonna die. I can see my blood bubbling up, mixing with the sunlight shining through the water, and I think, wow, that’s really pretty. And everything slows down, and I think, I wonder if an Ursa can hold its breath longer than a human? I look around and I see its pincer through my shoulder and I decide I don’t want that in there anymore. So I pull it out and it lets me go, and more than that, I can tell it can’t find me. It doesn’t even know where to look. And it dawned on me: fear is not real. The only place that fear can exist is in our thoughts of the future. It is a product of our imagination. Causing us to fear things that do not at present and may not ever exist. That is near insanity, Kitai. Now do not misunderstand me: danger is very real. But fear is a choice. We are all telling ourselves a story, and that day mine changed.”
    It was an amazing story, but at the same time, it sounded like something I might actually be able to do. I thought it was time to change my story too. Maybe, like the Primus would say, this whole crash had a reason. Maybe this is my time to step up and become a real Raige.
    I couldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said. I wondered why he’d never told me before.
    I keep talking, though, quietly so as not to disturb my animal friends.

//////// ENTRY 10
    A s soon as the sun was up, so was I. I was gathering my gear when I heard from my dad again. “Fourteen kilometers from the falls. That’s our halfway checkpoint.”
    â€œReading you,” I replied before beginning my trek, slow and steady, feeling the weight of sleep deprivation pushing down on me with so far still to go. I hacked my way through the forest with the cutlass, but it felt so heavy. I stopped for some water and ate a nutrition bar from my pack. I should have slept more last night. I could barely think, much less move, I was so tired. But I had to do both anyway.
    â€œSeven kilometers from the falls.” Thanks for the update, Dad, I thought but didn’t say. Every kilometer I completed felt like a small victory, given what I’d been through already and what I had left to do. So of course I was keeping track of every single one