Page 217 of Carousel

Brave.

Wonderful.

Just like Cosmer.

“Take an oxygen mask,” Drake says. And maybe he uses blood magic on me, because I walk right over to where one is, by the door, and grab it. Then I crash out of the room before anyone can stop me, my heart wedging so deep in my throat I can taste it.

It’s like fresh paper.

CHAPTER 39

The Oxygen Mask

On the Sky Deck, I see Cosmer at once. A silhouette against the sun, climbing the outer glass panels of the dome steadily towards the airlock. With the rubber suction cups strapped over his boots and palms, he pulls himself up the glass one limb at a time, the way a starfish might navigate across a rock. He has a mask over his face and a cannister on his back, and his hair and the fur coat he’s wearing are rustling wildly from the wind force that must exist at this altitude.

As a child, I used to regularly see him jump up walls and scale them with his bare hands. But this is somehow even more impressive. He looks like something from the future trying to get in.

I sling my cannister on my back and fit the mask to my face. My breath immediately fogs the goggles. By the time I reach the platform at the top of the wooden stairs, he’s almost at the airlock.

I stand by the outer door. He’s directly opposite me, by the inner one.

We look at each other through the glass and our masks. My goggles are distorting the scene, making it look even more otherworldly.

You’re almost home, I think.

And then I think, you came back. Even though you weren’t supposed to.

You were supposed to be free.

I’m furious.

I’m thrilled.

I was going to cheat the stars for him.

But maybe he’s cheating them for me.

He throws off the suction cup on his right hand – it’s swept into the abyss within a second – and points at the lever on my side of the platform. The same lever Ephraine had pulled to operate the airlock at Chapp’s trial.

I nod, understanding. After taking what feels like the deepest breath I’ve ever taken, I pull the lever hard towards me. I can feel the mechanism working. Clicking.

The glass panel slides left sharply.

Even from here, I can hear the way the wind rushes into the airlock. It’s an untameable sound. Panic doesn’t even do justice for what I’m feeling for Cosmer, out there in that wilderness.

He throws off the other suction cup and, now grasping the side of the airlock, drags himself across towards it.

He’s so close to me. I just have to wait until he’s safely inside. Then I’ll yank the lever to seal it behind him. It will all be over in just a few seconds.

He lunges. Almost touches his foot to the base of the airlock.

But something goes wrong.

The ship jolts, and suddenly he can’t get a footing, or the airflow is different – stronger. All I know is, one second he’s virtually straight, about to make contact, about to come home, and the next he’s parallel to the deck, flat against the glass. His knees slam into it as he scrambles to get the cups on his boots connected again.

The wind is ripping against him.

He loses one hand. He’s only hanging onto the airlock by the other.