Rena… Laura… Jeff at 40… Rena… Laura… Laura… Laura…
“Laura,” Jeff said. But she looked different, older. “What’s—”
“Shh, baby.” She put a finger, cool, to his lips. Jeff felt tears on his cheek. He realized they were hers.
“I missed you so much,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Jeff said. “I know.”
“I tried to track down Landry,” she said. “No way I could do it in the seventies—he and that Western Coordinating Institute left no trail. So I had to take the long way home to you—live these thirteen years day by day. But I never gave up hope I would find you.”
“I’m sorry, angel, so sorry,” Jeff said again, and he hugged her. “What time is it?” He pulled away.
“It’s 11:30,” Laura said. “The Challenger lifts off in a few minutes. We’ll be able to see it from here.”
Jeff looked around, saw he was in the front seat of a car, passenger’s side, parked along some field with shrubs. “We’ve got to stop them!” He moved to get out of the car. His body ached all over.
“It’s too late for that,” Laura said, tears in her voice as well as her eyes.
“It’s not too late,” Jeff insisted, and opened the car door. He turned back to Laura. “All we’ve been struggling to accomplish—limit the damage of the Challenger, save those little kids! We can’t let it happen!”
Laura appeared not to hear. “I tried so hard to stop the whole flight—call it off—get the O-rings fixed. I tried so hard, so many things. But it just wasn’t possible—something always seemed to get in the way.” She shook her head, looked back at Jeff, put her hand on his. “But I think I may have headed off the worst.”
“How?” Jeff looked at his watch. It was past 11:30 indeed. No way that either of them could stop anything having to do with the Challenger now.
“I spoke to Mike Smith years ago,” Laura replied. “He thought I was crazy—this mission hadn’t even been scheduled then. He wasn’t even an astronaut then. But you know, I guess if you’re cut out to become an astronaut, you have a sense of what science can accomplish not only now but in the future. So I told him who I was, about the Thome, how I got here, what would happen to the Challenger one day, everything. I think he still thought I was crazy—then. But he heard me out. And when the wind shear hits 37 seconds after lift-off, he’ll see it on the instruments, and I think he’ll remember what I told him. And he’ll do what needs to be done. He’ll make sure the Challenger flies far away from Miami.” And she broke down into sobs and tears.
Jeff came over to her side of the car, pulled her out and into his arms. They both were crying.
“How’d you know where to find me?” Jeff asked. “I mean, Landry’s people—”
“I finally managed to break through to part of Landry’s operation just a few months ago. I saw some of the plans. I knew you’d be here. I knew Landry’s men would be kidnapping someone—you, an astronaut, I couldn’t get to that piece of the plan. But I figured I’d hire my own team, intercept Landry’s, and see whom they’d taken. Maybe it would be you. And I got lucky.” She touched his face. “That mask only fooled me for a moment.”
Jeff touched his face too, realizing that the mask was off.
They turned in the direction of the Challenger. It was starting its liftoff.
And they looked at the sky, hands clasped, eyes singed from the smoke that would soon plume far from the Earth, far from the schoolhouse, close to the heavens.