Five Percent by DeboraDyess Day 20 writing prompt entry |
Today was day 20 of the lockdown and here I was, still in the Isolation Chamber. Still waiting for men in suits to release me. My family must be anxious. I know I am. I look at the air gauge -- five percent. They're supposed to be watching that. How long will that last? Not a full day. The food supply from the LunarHub is gone, too, not that it’s going to matter in five percent. Hell, yeah, I’m anxious. I press the intercom. “Captain Degas, here. I’m feeling a bit alone. Anybody out there willing to help me outta here? Hello? That's an order!” Silence. It’s been silence for over a week now. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. Deep space should have been the danger. Who knew the real danger was here, at home. “Um … Hello? You guys know the NASA handbook instructs you to keep a constant eye on me, right?” Silence. I stare into the monitor that shows the inner workings of the facility. I haven’t seen movement out there in eight days. One man scurried past, grabbing some papers as he fled. Fled. That’s a word that sends chills up my spine. I push against the door that should have opened 179 hours ago.
I think back to my childhood, to COVID-times. What was I doing on Day 20, then? SpongeBob, I think. I drift off, dreaming of Patric and SpongeBob and BikiniBottom until the air runs out.
Which, of course, it does.
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