Slowly, Logan returned to life.
The second instruction in the handbook stated he was to put away all his things, and so he did as he was told, slipping off his shoes to make himself more comfortable and peeling himself off the ground where Veronica left him. Aaron instilled in him the fear of screwing up (even if he chose to ignore it at times), and now, with the knowledge that Veronica was keeping close tabs on him, his brain clicked into the mechanical routine of taking an order and processing it, without much thought or feeling.
His toiletries went in the cabinet by the sink. Razor. Antiperspirant. Cologne. Aftershave. Maybe there was some sort of commissary on board where he could find a toothbrush at some point? Clothes went in the large drawers under the bed. Underwear. Socks. Pants. Shirts. Sweaters. Shoes. His suitcase was stowed in the cupboard above the bed. Aaron's briefcase was stuffed under the sink, hidden behind the towels with the contents untouched. He found the button to retract the sleeping dome on a panel with the unlit LED screens. When he sat down on the soft memory foam mattress, he discovered a small door beside the bed that slid open, and he placed the three books he brought inside: his mother's copy of the collected works of Tennessee Williams, a book of Charles Bukowski's poems that he once stole from Duncan, and a leather-bound copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover that Lilly gave him for his birthday. Next to those, he lay his grandfather's tarnished Zippo lighter—another tangible remnant of his mother's presence in his life. They all now sat together on the shelf, like souvenirs from a place called Earth, like the dozens of shot-glasses Lilly collected over the years.
"Earth: Come for the oxygen, stay for the surfing."
The boxes of condoms were shoved next to the books, too, before Logan slid the door closed, and he once again chastised himself for thinking about sex over oral hygiene. Easing himself down onto the bed, on top of the light blue woolen blanket, he flattened his body, pressing down into the foam, fingers splayed, long legs stretched towards the end, gaze fixed on the bottom of the cabinet looming above him. From this angle, the room felt claustrophobic—like the ceiling was pushing down on him—and he wondered about the size of the other compartments. The family ones must be bigger. And there must have been ones for the crew. That was probably where Veronica was right now—in some bunk in a room filled with others. She wouldn't have her own accommodations. She was a cog in this whole system and, like all cogs, was probably shoved into tight quarters. Would that be better or worse than being alone at this moment? He couldn't really say.
Veronica. Aaron. Lilly. Lilly and Aaron were screwing. And then he killed her. Logan could believe it. He could, unfortunately, imagine it too. When he was in Neptune, in between his L.A. shooting schedules, Aaron always seemed to hang around the pool when Lilly and Veronica came over in their tiny bikinis. At the time, Logan just thought it was Aaron's ego in need of attention. The narcissism of the Hollywood star, in constant search of validation, even if it was from a bunch of teenagers. Now, it felt more sinister. Did he coerce Lilly? Seduce her? Blackmail her? Or was this Lilly's way of getting back at him for kissing Yolanda at a party? No, if it was that, she would have told Logan she was fucking his father. He could easily see Lilly choosing Aaron— her body, her choice—just for the thrill, then breaking it off with him. Is that why he killed her? The jealous lover? It was a cliche, but then again, Aaron was a walking cliche. If Aaron coerced her, surely Logan would have known. He would have seen a change in Lilly. Or Veronica would have known or seen a difference. They were best friends. She must have known.
But then again, Veronica was raped, and no one knew. Well, at least he didn't. Logan found that revelation shocking on several fronts. The first was the fact that he never heard whispers about her investigation after the fact. The second was the fact that no one ever bragged about it. There were many things said and done to Veronica after they turned on her, and they usually got back to him. Madison writing "slut" on her car. Photos of Dick and him doing body shots off her, circulating around their friends. All the times her cell number was posted "for a good time" in bathrooms around town. People usually owned up to their heinous behaviours for shits and giggles, looking for praise from Logan for their actions against his nemesis. But this was different. Someone crossed the line and took the game of tormenting Veronica one step too far. Unsanctioned violence. Apparently his morality drew the line somewhere.
"Fucked up moral compass."
Covering his eyes with his palms, he pressed until he saw stars on the back of his eyelids before releasing them. His mother once yelled those words at Aaron in an argument over one of Aaron's affairs. He justified his infidelity by saying Lynn caused it. She left L.A., with Logan and Trina and the nanny, to star in an off-Broadway production in New York. She was gone for three months. Aaron had needs. Of course, he slept with his co-star. It was the only logical way to solve the problem of Lynn not attending to his needs. By that token, it was Lynn's fault for leaving, not Aaron's.
Is that what happened with Veronica? Did he cause her rape? Was he no better than Aaron after all? He certainly helped paint a giant target on her, but he never thought anyone would go that far. Bile tickled the back of his throat, and he tasted again his last ever drive-thru burger, consumed just hours ago. With a shudder, he swallowed it back.
He wished he could take everything back. There was a time when they were friends. Hell, there was a time, before he became entangled with Lilly, that he even thought about the possibility of him and Veronica being together. But he'd known that it wouldn't happen. She was too nice, too sweet to ever want anything but friendship from a fuck up like him. So that's what they were. Friends. Until they weren't.
Around and around his brain swirled, melding the memories of sweet Veronica through time until the dark angel who'd appeared in his cabin came back into focus and guilt squeezed at his heart.
"I can't think about this anymore. Not now."
Closing his eyes, he tried to rid himself of thoughts of Veronica by conjuring the image of Kendall straddling him, bouncing enthusiastically on his cock. Kendall's wide smirk through plump red lips as she looked down at him, demanding more of whatever he was doing. Ridiculing him when he couldn't perform up to her fucked-up standards of pleasure and pain. Kendall was completely unaware that the reason he could keep going for hours was not because of his age or prowess, but was instead his deep hatred for her and himself that kept him from coming. Not that he had any guilt over screwing his best friend's step-mother. Even now, his cock didn't even twitch at the memory of sucking on her perfect pink nipples or digging his fingers into the flesh of her tight ass. And instead of arousal, his brain flipped to the awareness that in hours, Kendall would be among the dead, too.
Dead.
Sitting up quickly, Logan pulled back his sleeve to look at Aaron's flesh. His nose wrinkled as he observed the tattoo, cold against his skin, and he wondered if he should keep it on for the launch or store it away. He pivoted, dropping his feet to the floor. Unsure of what was happening next made him twitchy. The handbook said that there would be further instructions and to wait in the cabin, but the rest seemed vaguely like a cruise ship itinerary. They would be instructed before they took off on how to place themselves in stasis—a sleep-like hibernation—in their bunks When they awoke, they would be light-years away. At that time, they could wander the ship—join everyone in the dining hall. Shower. Exercise. Make themselves comfortable until the time came for the second jump to whatever place would be their new home.
He reasoned that it was probably best to ditch the second skin for now. Pushing his sleeve up to his bicep, Logan began to unfurl the white gauze carefully, so he could reuse it again at some point. Wrapping the thin fabric around his hand as he unravelled it from his body, only the foreign skin balanced on his own was left. For a second, he wished he had grabbed moisturizer, something to keep it supple. Smooth. Fresh smelling.
The thought of his mother sitting in her boudoir, slowly massaging her rose-scented moisturizer into her skin, tweaked at his heart, reminding him that he was still alive and needed to work hard to stay that way. Looking around, he decided that probably the best place for it was with him, but not on him, in stasis. Scooting to one side, he reached down and opened the drawer by his legs, pulling out a grey t-shirt before kicking the door closed again. Laying the fabric on his lap, he unfolded part of it across his knees and placed the skin on top. Folding the fabric back over it, he turned and slid it under his crisp white pillow. If crew members came to check on him while he slept, no one would be the wiser, unless they actually looked at his arm. Plus, if someone took it upon themselves to search the cabin, they weren't likely to find anything incriminating.
There was a crackling sound, and Logan glanced above his head to the television screen. An older man with dark hair and a beard, clad in a grey flight suit, stood solemnly in front of the camera.
"If everyone on board could please turn their attention to the closest communication screen. We are ready to prepare for our launch."
Shuffling over to the chair across the room, Logan lowered himself with a sigh of relief. This was it. They were almost ready to go. The anticipation twisted his stomach, and he momentarily wondered if food would be served before take-off before giving his head a quick shake to wave that thought away.
The man cleared his throat and nodded to his audience before straightening his shoulders, his hands placed behind his back. In the background, Logan could make out what seemed to be the ship's bridge deck, with a wall of computers and people walking back and forth, monitoring the lights and numbers that appeared.
"My name is Captain Jeffries, and I have been selected by the Intergalactic Resettlement Project to helm the HMSS Civilization. We are one of five hundred ships from around the world that will successfully carry humans from the planet Earth to their new relocation planet of Belcore in the Xubos galaxy. The Belcorians anxiously await our arrival."
Crossing his arms, Logan frowned at the screen, trying to process the subtext of what was just revealed. The fact that it sounded like someone was actually waiting for them at the end of this journey was a lot to wrap his head around. Like something out of the Weekly World News, the knowledge that some governing body from Earth not only made contact with extraterrestrial life, but negotiated the resettlement of what amounted to galactic refugees was hard to take in.
"Before we take off, all passengers and service crew will be placed in cryosleep. Only the flight crew will be awake to make the three-month journey to our rendezvous point with the other ships. At that point, passengers will be awakened from their stasis to continue the rest of the trip, conscious and ready to eventually disembark on Belcore."
"So much for an eighteenth birthday party in space," Logan muttered.
"Cryosleep is as simple as, well, falling asleep." Captain Jeffries pressed his lips together as he smiled, giving Logan the feeling that it wasn't as simple as he said. "We ask that for families, you prepare your children for cryosleep first before taking the necessary steps yourself as once the process starts, one can slip into sleep quickly." A hand came into camera view holding a blue bottle, and the Captain took it, holding it up so they could see. "Each person in the cabin must take one pill from the blue vial located in the cabinet next to your sink. Once you have taken it, you must strip to your underwear and a shirt or t-shirt. Please be sure to remove all jewelry or piercings. Once comfortably in your bed, lay on top of the blankets, on your back and press the red button just above your head to activate the plastic containment unit. After a few seconds, oxygen will begin being pumped into the sealed pod, and you will feel a chill. By this time, you should be almost asleep. Crew members will be coming around to make sure all our passengers are asleep before launch and check everyone's vital signs. Rest assured that your vitals will be monitored throughout your cryosleep and adjustments made to make sure everyone is safe and content for the journey."
Captain Jeffries took a final deep breath, his deep brown eyes staring directly at the camera. "It is with a heavy heart that we leave Earth today, but I promise, we are leaving it for a better world."
With that, the television went black. "A better world," Logan mumbled. "A better world."
Would it really be that? Could he allow himself to hope that wherever they were going would, in fact, be better? In a way, it seemed like this what he'd always wanted—to carve out a life without Aaron. To leave the memory of his mother and Lilly behind. To see what kind of man he could become without the influence of Neptune constantly squeezing his soul.
But there was Neptune. There would always be Neptune. He could go to the furthest corners of the galaxy, and there would still be Neptune, in his bones and in his blood. And there would be Veronica, and probably her father, and whomever else made it aboard this ship of the damned.
Rubbing his face with his palms, Logan tried to push that all out of his mind as he stood and shuffled over to the cabinet. The blue container was sitting next to his electric razor, and he wondered if this was a Rip Van Winkle situation and he would wake up in three months with a full beard. He pulled the blue container from the cabinet, unscrewed the top, and shook one pill into his palm before replacing the cap and shoving it back in the cupboard. Turning the water on, he lowered his head and popped the pill into his mouth, scooping up a bit of water in his cupped hand and washing it down quickly. He shut off the tap and ran his wet fingers through his hair, taking one last look at his seventeen-year-old self. It was strange to know that when he woke up, he would be an adult. Eighteen years old. Legally able to drink in Mexico or Canada. Not that it mattered anymore. Legally able to tap into his trust fund from his mother. Not that money mattered anymore either. Nothing mattered, really. Nothing but survival. But really, wasn't that what his life was like up until this point anyway?
He turned away from his reflection, unbuckling his belt. Slipping off his pants, he bent to pick them up, folding them neatly before opening the drawer to stuff them in. He stripped off his shirt and did the same, swapping it for a fresh long-sleeved green Henley to cover his arms.
Three months.
Wrinkling his nose, he glanced at his pillow. God, he hoped Aaron's skin stayed in stasis too. Or else he'd be sleeping on rotting flesh for all that time.
"Guess it's a crapshoot."
Pushing off his boxer briefs, he dropped them in the drawer on top of his other dirty clothes, picked up a fresh pair, and slipped them on. Sitting down on the bed, he pulled off his socks and tossed them in the drawer too before closing it. For a moment, his body wavered, and he began to see stars.
"Wow. He wasn't kidding. This is fast."
With a yawn and a stretch, Logan looked around the small room one last time. Easing himself back onto the bed, he took a slow breath as his body sank slowly into the foam mattress, his head cradled by the pillow. Reaching back, he found the button and with a sharp inhale, he pressed it, watching as the dome came up and around him.
Logan hoped he wouldn't dream, that his mind would be saved from the thoughts that rattled his brain. Because if not, he was about to enter into some torture device, trapping him in his consciousness to be torn apart by the people in there. Aaron. Lynn. Lilly. Veronica.
His heart jumped when it clicked into place, his breathing increasing briefly as he waited for the next step. There was a quick burst of cool air near his feet, and he shivered, and he wondered how cold exactly they were going to make him. But then, his eyelids grew heavy, and his breathing relaxed, and soon, the only thing he felt was the hopeful peace of sleep.