I'd been in the sauna a few times, at school. I didn't like it. It was too hot. This was almost as hot. Not quite. But getting there. I thought about cold orange juice– realorange juice–not the orange‑colored stuff that Mom always bought. I thought about ice. I thought about ice water. I thought about swimming in ice water.
Another checkpoint. And I still didn't see any shadows on the horizon. We were in the middle of a dazzling plate of fire. We were under a magnifying glass. The hard black sky was overruled by the scorching blaze of light in the east. The sweat poured off me. So did the tears.
"You're doing fine, Chigger. Just keep on. Only a little farther." That was Mickey's voice.
I couldn't see anyone clearly anymore. There was a dark figure bouncing in front of me. And a blurry bubble too. Mickey's occasional comments came from behind me. Were they suffering as much as I was? I couldn't imagine it–
Maybe Alexei really did want us dead, so he could skip off into the darkness with the monkey …
Sure, that was it. That's why he'd left us up on the rim of the crater. He wasn't going for help. He was just going. And going. And then what–? It was too hot to think of the next step. But if he knew where the monkey was and nobody else did, then he could sell it to whoever would pay the most and nobody else could get to it if we were dead–and the moon was the perfect place to lose anything. Or anyone.
How much more of this could my bubble suit take before it popped? Was it already bigger because the air was heating up and expanding? And why didn't we float up into the air like the hot‑air balloons in Albuquerque? Weren't we hot enough? Oh, we were hot enough, but there wasn't any air to float up into–
Another checkpoint. Mickey's voice sounded bad. Somewhere ahead, Stinky was crying–or screaming. I bounced up, floated down, bounced up, floated down–watched the landscape drop away, peered into the distance, floated down–everything was brightness in all directions.
Ice water, ice water, ice water, swimming in ice water, diving in ice water. Dying in ice water. It didn't work anymore. It was too hot. It was burning. It was hotter than the sauna. I wasn't going to make it. I didn't see how I could make it. I bounced up, floated down, I couldn't see anything but solar glare. We had come too far to get back and there was no shadow anywhere. We'd bounced and skipped into sunlight and we were going to die here–
I kept going anyway. I wanted to lie down, but I didn't. I didn't have any more sweat. It had all been boiled out of me. I went to take a sip of water but it was too hot to drink. And as fast as I sipped, it just dripped right out of me. There were droplets bouncing around the inside of the bubble now. There were little puddles splashing lazily around the bottom in a graceful slow‑motion ballet.
Another checkpoint–
If I fell down, I wouldn't be able to get up. I had to pay intention. This was the hard part. I wasn't going to be the first to fall–
Just before we had started across the frying pan, while Alexei was checking Mickey's air, Douglas had pulled me aside, had talked to me like an adult. "I'm responsible for Bobby. You're responsible for Charles. I can't be responsible for both of you. If you fall down, Charles, I can'tsave you. I can't come back for you. Neither can Mickey. If it gets so bad out there that you can't get up, no one else can pick you up either. Don't fall down. If you fall down, and I try to save you, we alldie. Don't fall down."
"I won't." It had been easy to reassure him at the time. Because I didn't know. Not then. Now I knew.And I wasn't sure I could keep the promise. I could barely see anymore. I followed the bouncing blur.
One more bounce. Take the next bounce. Just one more bounce. Keep going. It won't get better if you stop. Another bounce. And another. Keep on bouncing. Bouncing. Keep on, Charles–keep your promise. Don't fall. Pay intention.
And then–"There it is!" Mickey's voice.
I didn't see it. I saw bright scorching solar blur. I saw purple splotches floating in front of my eyes. I saw noise and dazzle. I didn't see any shadow.He was lying. He was just saying that to keep me going–
"Straight ahead, Chigger! Almost there!"
"Almost where?" But I didn't have any voice. Just croak. Not even loud enough to be heard.
I bounced, I floated, I looked. Painful brightess. Something angled. Maybe. Bounced, floated, looked–something flat and rectangular, angled toward the sun. But not darkness. It still didn't resolve. Bounced, floated, looked–it didn't make sense, but it wasn't sunlight and I bounced and floated toward it.
Alexei was already there, in the shade of it. Shade!Something dark was humped into the ground. He was opening a hatch, standing and waving, beckoning. Douglas was just bouncing into the shadow of something–it was real!
And then I tripped. And bounced and rolled, ass over elbow, every which way– had I punctured my bubble? Was I dead and didn't know it yet?–I was still rolling. I heard voices.
"Let him go, Mikhail–get out of the sun! We can't lose both of you–" That was Alexei! And then, "I am get him."
I was trying to get up, but my arms weren't working. My feet kept kicking uselessly at the bottom of the bubble. I didn't have the air to scream. I felt like a frog in a frying pan. I probably looked like one too. Just add butter–never mind, I'll lie here and boil in my own juices. A fat lot of help you are, you stupid monkey–
And then, someone was rolling me around, I wasn't doing it, something black blurred around my vision, and then I was vaguely upright–"Can you move, or do I carry you?" Without waiting for an answer, Alexei grabbed my bubble suit by one of the plastic handles on the outside; he held me high, and began bouncing toward the blackness ahead–
The light went out abruptly–not the heat, I was still baking like a clam in my own shell. But at least the light was gone. Hands pushed at me, pushed me into a dark tube, pushed me farther. Pushed. Through a series of horizontal hatches that opened in front of me and closed behind me. I felt helpless to resist–I couldn't see anything but splotches of purple dazzle. I bounced off something–I heard hissing. I heard a hatch slam. I heard voices, not in my earphones, but from farther away. I heard sounds I couldn't identify. A voice swearing in Russian. An argument. Douglas calling out–"Is Charles all right?"
"Is not dead yet," said Alexei. And that would have been reassuring to hear if I didn't have more accurate information than he did. And then the hissing got louder, and louder–someone was unzipping my bubble suit–I tried to slap them away, but I didn't have strength to resist, so I just lay on the floor and waited to die. I took hungry deep breaths, filled myself with hot air, that was a mistake, the vacuum would rip it out of my lungs like a scream–and then the hissing stopped and–cooler air rolled around me, surprising me like a wet slap in the face, and I youchedaloud and tried to sit up, but I still couldn't, and then the hands were pulling wet plastic up and off me, and suddenly I was out of the bubbleand the air wasn't baking around me. I rolled sideways and blinked at the darkness, there were people moving in the purple dazzle. Douglas and Bobby and Mickey and someone still in black. КРИСЛОВ.