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news. “We’re all safe, all alive. I know you didn’t plan to do this when you woke up this morning, but we’re all in this together now whether we want to be or not.” When the boy doesn’t answer, John sighs and says, “I know you’re scared. We all are, but if you stick with us, you’ll be safe.”
    “Safe,” repeats the boy quietly. The cabin is silent for a moment. Then, he says, “You needed a light. I have this.” He crawls over the ceiling to hand John a wristlet, of which he holds two. John takes one and slaps it on his wrist, wrinkling his brow and jabbing a finger at it, confused. “You press right here on the top,” he tells John, demonstrating, “and then it—”
    A beam of light pours out, stabbing the opposite wall.
    “Bright,” John grunts—or maybe complains, I can’t tell—then climbs to his feet to survey the cabin. “Why’d the hovercraft just shut off like that?” he asks himself.
    The boy answers the rhetorical question. “It’s just a defensive feature of any hovercraft. They aren’t meant to be upside-down ever, so it shuts off to p-p-prevent further damage and ensure the safety of its passengers. Thrusters are only on its underside.” He scrounges in the dark for his lost cap, reclaiming it near the back of the cabin.
    “So you do know a thing or two,” remarks John. “Wait. Are you telling me we have to flip this whole thing over for it to work again?”
    “I don’t know ,” the boy grumbles tiredly. “The four of us alone can’t dream of budging a hovercraft . Look at me! I struggle to even carry a simple shipping crate! That’s why they left me behind to watch the ship!” On his feet now, he gives the wall a frustrated kick. “Great and wonderful job I did of that. I’m so fired.”
    “You can’t lift a crate, and they hired you as a delivery boy?”
    The boy’s pouty, resentful eyes are his only answer.
    Impatient, I push forward to the controls, which now rest on the ceiling. Looking up at them, I spot the button that once closed the ramp and reach for it.
    “Jen!” hisses Mari. “What are you doing??”
    I smirk. “Opening the door. What’s it look like?”
    “Stop! No!”
    I sigh and stare back at my friend. “What’s our plan, then? Huddle in here all day and braid each other’s hair? Why don’t we see where we’ve landed, at the very least? Explore our surroundings. Then, we’ll come back inside and close up for the night, using this craft as our … base. Hell, it’s stocked with enough food for weeks, isn’t it?”
    “A month, maybe more,” the boy agrees, counting the crates with his eyes. “Split among four of us, hmm …”
    “We may need to seek out a source of water, too,” I point out, itching to have a look around. “I can’t believe we’re here,” I murmur with exhilaration, half to myself. “The realm of the Dead. The place I’ve only heard about since I was a child. The place of—”
    “A source of water …?!” cries Marianne, exasperated. “Did you leave your brain back on campus?? A complete and utter lack of resources is the very reason this place is what it is! No food anywhere. Every river has run dry. The shore is toxic. The trees are dead. I’m worried even the air out there is poison.”
    I don’t share her worries, and she clearly doesn’t share my excitement. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” I reach for the button.
    “JEN!”
    A faint groan comes from the engine, then the door above us opens up, spilling in a hazy light from outside.
    “See? We’re not dead yet,” I tell Mari. “The craft is just sleeping, not powerless. She’ll open and close when we want. Let’s have a look around, then we’ll be back to eat some dinner. I could go for a little bit of what we had before we left. How about you?” I put on a chipper smile, then climb atop a crate to reach the exit, ignoring Mari’s utterly stupefied expression.
    When I raise my head through the threshold, my eyes are met