6
If the hands of time were hands that I could hold,
I'd keep them warm and in my hands,
They'd not turn cold
Hand in hand we'd choose
The moments that should last
(Marilyn and Alan Bergman)
All too quickly the countdown reached zero and the space shuttle rose into the sky atop an enormous pillar of fire and smoke. Kyle was staring intently at the TV. Stan was watching Kyle; he had seen this in replays dozens of times and knew he'd be watching it many more times in the coming days. Kyle's lips were moving, and it took Stan a moment to realize he was whispering, almost too low to be heard: "Come on…come on…"
Stan was trying to ignore the sounds coming from the television; watching the shuttle disaster happen live (again) was somehow more unsettling than seeing reruns of it. Bits of dialogue from the TV kept intruding though, impossible to ignore as the shuttle ascended into the bright blue Florida sky. "Roger…roll program." "Good roll program confirmed. Challenger now heading downrange." "Engines beginning to throttle down now…at ninety four percent" "We'll throttle down to sixty five percent shortly." "Velocity twenty two hundred fifty seven feet per second, altitude four point three nautical miles, downrange distance three nautical miles."
"It's coming," Stan whispered. Kyle looked away from the television for a moment, then looked back. One of the CNN anchormen began speaking, drowning out the voices of mission control and the astronauts.
"So the twenty fifth space shuttle mission is now on the way after more delays than NASA cares to count. This morning it looked as though they were not going to be able to get off—"
On the TV, the shuttle silently exploded, the camera angle quickly changing and zooming back to show the enormous cloud of smoke and fire, the two solid rocket boosters slowly rising above the catastrophe, the contrails they left behind slowly forming a giant letter Y.
"Oh my God!" Kyle whispered. Large pieces of smoking wreckage were falling from the giant cloud. The droning voice from mission control continued rattling off useless information about speed and altitude before stopping, realizing that something had just gone terribly wrong.
There was a scream from downstairs; Stan recognized it as Ike, followed a moment later by Sheila's cry of "Oh my God, no!"
The CNN anchorman began speaking, but Kyle's eyes were locked on Stan's. "Looks like a couple of the solid rocket boosters…blew away from the side of the shuttle… in an explosion…"
"Jesus Christ, Stan!" All the color had drained from Kyle's face, and he looked like he could be sick at any moment.
From the TV, the voice of mission control: "Flight controllers here looking very carefully at the situation." Kyle tore his gaze from the TV to look at Stan, who had been staring at him the whole time; he had seen these images hundreds of times before. "Obviously a major malfunction." They could hear Ike crying downstairs. "We have no downlink." Kyle was staring at Stan, all the color drained from his face. Debris continued to rain down, and even though Stan had seen this image dozens of times, the horror of this moment felt as raw as it had the first time it had happened.
("We have a report from the Flight Dynamics Officer that the vehicle has exploded.")
"Oh Jesus, dude!" Kyle whispered, his hands going to his mouth.
("Flight director confirms that. We are looking at checking with the recovery forces to see what can be done at this point.")
"Oh Jesus Stan!…oh my God. It really did blow up…" Kyle's expression was bordering on maniacal. "Just like you said it would." He retched and buried his face in his hands, swallowing several times in rapid succession
("Contingency procedures are in effect")
"It's okay, Kyle," Stan said quietly, moving to sit closer. Stan was trembling, not at all sure what he should do. After a moment, he put his arm around Kyle's shoulder. It must have been the right thing, because Kyle looked at him gratefully and shook his head.
"At least…" Kyle whispered. "At least they died quick."
Stan's lips tightened to a thin line at that and he shook his head. "No." His eyes narrowed. "They didn't, Kyle!" Kyle's face was unreadable, staring at Stan as he continued. "When they pulled them out of the ocean weeks later…" Stan looked around Kyle's bedroom. "Or…I mean, weeks from now, I guess…" His eyes settled back on the TV, which was already beginning to show replays of the explosion. "They found out that at least a couple of the astronauts lived until they hit the ocean, like three minutes after it blew up."
If anything, Kyle's face grew even whiter as the implication of that set in. Stan's own vision swam out of focus for a moment as he realized that's happening right now.
There was a commotion outside Kyle's door, which suddenly burst open. Ike ran into the room and threw himself against his brother, hugging him. "Kyle!" he wailed. "It blew up!"
Stan stood up alongside the bed, letting Kyle give his complete attention to his brother.
"I know, Ike." Kyle hugged him back. His eyes were still locked on Stan's with that same unreadable look in them. Sheila appeared in the doorway a moment later.
"Boys!" She seemed about to enter the room, but then stopped herself. "Are you all right?"
"Oh, my god, mom!" Kyle said, awkwardly clutching Ike, who was sobbing miserably against his chest. His eyes kept darting back and forth between her to Stan.
Stan felt most comfortable watching the TV, trying to ignore what was happening in the room.
"This is just awful," Sheila said, finally taking a couple steps into the room. Ike turned to look at her for a moment, then buried his face in Kyle's pajama shirt again.
They stayed that way for a long moment, Stan watching awkwardly as Kyle tried to comfort his younger brother. Sheila finally walked all the way into the room, put her hand on Ike's shoulder and led him away.
"Okay…dude." The color was slowly returning to Kyle's face. "Obviously you are telling the truth. It happened just the way you said it would."
"Kyle…" Stan sat down on the bed beside him. He had no words to add, and they quietly watched television together.
The next few hours passed awkwardly. CNN showed replays of the disaster over and over again, finding more and more footage of the same event, filmed from many different angles. Sheila brought them sandwiches for lunch and left them alone, her vow of making them do homework forgotten.
Eventually the shadows outside began growing longer and crept into the window, and it was time for Stan to go home. Sharon picked him up and Stan and Kyle said an awkward goodbye to each other in the driveway as he climbed into his mother's car.
It wasn't until after Stan had eaten dinner, this time with Shelly and his mother sitting on either side of him while they watched the news, that he realized that, with all the drama surrounding the disaster, he still hadn't talked to Kyle about the tragedy that would kill his mother and brother in two days unless they stopped it.
All right…first thing tomorrow morning I have to talk to him about it. It's too important to put off any longer.