Chapter Text
Vancouver International Airport, Canada
"Next."
The line shifted forward by a person.
After more than one hour, I was finally close enough to make out the end of the line, where a man in a military suit was going through the passengers' bags. They had to make sure we didn't bring anything dangerous or too heavy onto the spaceship that would sabotage the flight.
The process was so familiar, I could almost imagine myself boarding a plane to Hawaii with my family.
"Next."
I took one step forward again, and looked at the spaceship parked in front of me. It was one of the biggest ones in Canada, and my ticket to the New World. Four people stood between me and the entrance ramp.
I shifted my weight from my left foot to my right, then back again. Both were sore from the long journey to the spaceship.
A few hours ago, I had arrived the airport like everyone else, thinking that the spaceship would be parked on one of the plane runways, but it was no where to be seen. I had to ask around for directions, most of which pretended not to hear me or just ignored me.
I didn't blame them. Only saints would lower their chances of winning the race in exchange for helping an enemy. Saints, and perhaps idiots.
Eventually, a nice stewardess told me they moved the spaceship farther to the west of the airport, where there was more space and had less Invincs. So I followed her onto a bus, which took us to the barren field where the spaceship was. People had already started to line up before I even arrived.
I decided that the stewardess was a saint, but before I could thank her, she was chased down by one of the robots.
"Next."
It seemed that I was not the only one tired. A lot of people in line were crouching or sitting on their bags, and I was thankful for them. If the Invincs spotted us, they would be their first targets, and I, who was standing, would have an advantage in running away first.
I was also grateful that the army in Canada did a decent job of fending off the boarding areas with gates. They also used electricity to attack the robots, which I noticed didn't 'kill' them entirely, but they seemed to get a little weaker every time they were shocked.
Two more to go.
I didn't understand why, but my knees were beginning to shake the closer I got to the end. So I did what I always did when I was nervous - I touched the pendant that hung around my neck. Inside, I placed pictures of my siblings and my parents.
I'll meet all of you soon.
I took a deep breath to calm my pounding heart, and when I let it out as a long sigh, a white vapor cloud formed in front of my mouth.
For the first time, I realized that my limbs are numb. Also, was that snow falling from the sky?
Sure, I was in Canada, and the world was changing, but it was only the middle of September. It felt ridiculous.
Earlier, I noticed that the air was cleaner and there was no fire to create any smoke, so I had taken my mask off. Now, I decided to put it back on, along with the parka that I had carried along with me.
One more to go.
"Mom, I'm cold."
I turned around and found the owner of the high-pitched voice to be a young girl. She couldn't be older than five years, but all she had on was a worn windbreaker. Her mother only had a t-shirt on.
I forced myself to turn back and stare straight ahead. The end of the race. The winner's prize. On that spaceship, food, water, warmth, security, shelter, and more.
The girl whined again.
I frowned at the old man in front of me, who was shouting at the bag-checker and some officers in a foreign language that I didn't understand, holding up the line.
The girl started crying.
I shut my eyes and mouthed a curse at myself. I moved my backpack to my front and fished out a sweater, then, turning around, stuffed it into the mother's hands.
I didn't let her thank me before I turned back around again. The man was still shouting.
I knew I was being the idiot just then, but the little girl reminded me too much of my youngest sister, and I couldn't resist.
Whatever, I decided. The finishing line was right in front of me anyway.
After ten more agonizing minutes, the old man was finally asked to step aside to let me in first. I dropped my bag heavily on the table for the soldier to look through, and since no one was in front of me anymore, I had a clear view of the entry ramp that led into the spaceship.
The shadows made it hard for me to see the interior of the spaceship, and I couldn't help but imagine what would be waiting for me inside. would it be luxurious like the ones in movies? Walls armed with weapons, bedrooms, large windows--
My daydream was abruptly cut short by a loud thumping noise, and a person shouting in English.
"Hey, where are you going?"
I looked up and see two men emerging from the spaceship. One was running down the entry ramp - hence the thumping sounds - while the other, another soldier, was pursuing the first.
My first thought was that the guy must have been crazy to want to leave the spaceship. My second thought, as I watched him get closer, was that he looked familiar.
The soldier who was checking my bag said something, but what I heard was the click of two matching puzzle pieces being fit together in my mind.
The guy leaving the spaceship was someone I knew.
"Sir!"
I blinked and my gaze settled onto the soldier in front of me, who was holding my bag in midair. I snatched it and, instead of going past him towards the spaceship, turned around to run after my friend.
No, he wasn't just a friend. He was family, and that was why I couldn't just let him leave.
"San!"
When he didn't stop or turn around, I ripped my mask off and tried again.
"San! It's me, Wooyoung!"
He stopped, but not the way I wanted him to. He tripped on a rock and falls, giving me a chance to catch up.
He pushed himself off the ground and was about to run again, but I was quicker and I caught him by the arm.
"San, what's wrong," I asked, panting. He wasn't looking at me, so I walked in front of him. His eyes were hollow and staring straight ahead. "Why did you leave? How about your parents? Did you leave them there? Are they on another spaceship? Was it full?"
San shook his head. His eyes started to water, and I still had no clue what was going on.
He and I were friends from high school, and I knew he was born into a rich family, so money couldn't have been his problem. Feeling helpless, I decided to try anyway.
"Look, I won a lottery around a week ago, and that was how I secured spots on different spaceships around the world for all my family. I have some money left, and I can use those to bribe--"
I stopped when San's eyes start to shine from the tears that were forming. He shook his head again, though he was still looking through me. "...my fault... it's my fault. I don't d- deserve... sorry, it's my fault," he stuttered, between hiccups and taking deep breaths.
I frowned at his distraught state. "If we start lining up again now, we might be able to make it..." I trailed off, realizing how wrong I was. The queue has at least doubled its length since I first arrived. There was no way the spaceship would accommodate all of us.
There was no way I was getting a spot on that spaceship anymore. I was so close to the finishing line, and yet I lost.
I was an idiot for leaving my spot at the front of the line.
That thought was like a parasite gnawing at my heart, deriving all my compassion I had for the person in front of me. And in its place was fuming anger, as hot as a burning flame.
I flung San's arm away and glared at him, wanting to shout at him, push him, punch him, even. But something stopped me. Staring at San's face made me - albeit unwillingly - recall the memories I had with him.
About four years ago, I was forced to study abroad. Unlike other people around me, though, I just couldn't blend in with the others, especially the locals, since I wasn't good with English. If it wasn't for San, who was willing to go through all the trouble just to make sure I was accepted into his friend group, my teenage-hood would be washed with the monotone grey of loneliness instead of the colorful memories I had now.
San seemed to sense that I was planning to leave him, because it was his turn to grab at my arm, bringing me back to the present. I looked at his eyes again, which were still glassy, but for the first time since our reunion, he seemed to actually see me for the first time.
"If it wasn't for me, Wooyoung, you would've been on your way to the New World by now. I'm so sorry... everything is my fault."
It was as if he just realized what he had done, and was regretting his decision to leave the spaceship. But there was something in his tone, between his words, that told me he didn't regret losing his opportunity of winning; he was beating himself up for pulling me into his mess.
Not just me - he was at fault for everything, it seemed like.
The flame inside me wavered, until once again my heart was left feeling sour.
As much as I wanted to push San away and run back to the airport so I would at least have a chance of escaping Earth on another spaceship in some other country, I couldn't bring myself to leave my friend here.
No, not just a friend. He was family.
San was still staring at me with wide eyes, and I knew if I didn't do something soon, he would break down again. That was how well I knew him.
So I bit my lip and cursed inwardly before saying, "pull yourself together. If you don't want to be stampeded by a hoard of Invincs, we'd better be going now."
I pretended to be impatient and annoyed, looking away instead of at San, but the truth is, my heart was already as soft as a marshmallow, and I was set on helping my family. What worried me was that his hands were empty, and my own backpack was almost deprived of resources.
He was still a tear-streaked mess, but he managed to give me a reassuring smile that I was hoping to see.
Then, as if reading my mind, he said, "by the way, don't worry about not having enough food or water for both of us. My dad has a private jet parked in the hangar back at Vancouver's Airport. It should be stocked with things."
I gaped at him, but couldn't help curling the corner of my lips upwards. "Alcohol?"
"Alcohol."
We gave each other a smug look, just like in the old days when we were about to pull a prank on the teacher we hated, then headed towards the direction of the terminals.