The Run
I shiver. Not from the temperature. It is cool in the room, but not cold. I usually like it that way. My fur keeps me warm.
If all the water hadn't been taken out of the pure oxygen I'd probably be sweating. They do that so there won't be any frost. It's making my nose sore. That's quite something with this muzzle. I twitch it as I look out the small window.
A dust devil is slowly moving up the bare ground between buildings. Down where they are farther apart. I glance at the clock again. Two minutes. If it turns this way the opening will be delayed so it won't blow too much sand inside. My attention moves to the footprints in that sand. There are plenty of booted prints of course. But I'm only interested in the bare ones leading from my door to the one across the gap. There are a bunch of those too. Most are much larger than mine.
I flex my toes. My claws poke down into the Sand-Grid. Mom let me paint them green for the run. Nice contrast. Kids tease me more about having digitigrade legs than fur. I guess because more kids have fur. Some adults don't understand why Dr. Milner gave us either. I think my claws will dig into the dirt and make running easier. I hope I'm right. I'm still nervous. Locked in here alone for the last hour hasn't helped.
I don't want to look now, but I can't keep my eyes from wandering a couple meters to the right. At the blackened lump half buried in sand. At the body. It hardly looks human any more. But some ribs are showing where the sand has scoured away the skin. I know who it is of course. Everybody knows John Carter. And how he just lost it out there. I wonder if he read that same book I just finished. Did he really think he could run around forever outside naked or something just because of his name? Earther!
I make myself look up. There are faces filling the windows across from me. I know all of them. Gretchen. Millie. The Tamera's. Dr. Milner is just to the left of the door. My design father. I grin and hope he can see me. I can't imagine him without that beard. My folks say it is about as old as me. Maybe he wanted to feel what fur was like?
"Thirty seconds."
I nod at the announcement and step back. I was sitting on a bench earlier and it is still folded out from the wall. I slip off my robe and lay it on the bench. I start breathing as hard as I can. Trying to time breaths with the countdown clock, and getting as much oxygen in my blood as possible. As I've been told. I brace one foot against the back wall and take what I think is a runner's stance.
My nipples feel hard. What a thing to notice at a time like this. I wonder if anyone will be able to see them sticking out of my chest fur. At thirteen my breasts are starting to grow after all.
"Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen...." I recognize the voice of Mrs. Ohna. My favorite teacher.
I can hear the safeties on the door click open. "Three. Two. One."
The rushing air blows my fur before I can even see daylight around the opening crack. I shout, sending my last breath out with it. And then the door is swinging up fast. The cold hits me and the sunlight almost blinds me but the oxygen is drawing me outside with it. I let it, and run for my life.
The sand is loose and cold but my toes are well insulated. My claws dig in just like I'd hoped. And at full speed I can really use my tail for balance. So quiet. It is strange to barely feel the thin air against my ear whiskers. I wonder if my black sox will come out the same color as the rest of my fur from all the red sand. Actually I'm not really thinking about that too hard. My skin and eyes hurt. No time to waste. The far door is standing open a couple meters away now. Inside I can see the back window and the only thing I want to concentrate on at the moment besides running. My parents.
My lungs are burning hard when I slam into the airlock wall right below the window. I'm getting dizzy and almost trip. But I don't. The emergency handle is right in front of me. I grab it with both hands and pull down with all my weight. I feel the door slam shut behind me through the floor just before I fall back.
I'm trying to suck air back into my lungs even faster than it is filling the room. My hair is blowing in my eyes so I lose sight of my folks for a couple seconds. Then it clears. I lay there hurting, naked, on one elbow. But I grin up at them and give a thumb-up sign.
It's official. They know who I am now. Karen Gibson. Martian.