Skye
Every instinct screams at me to turn back to the safety of the bridge.
The canopies of the remaining pods suddenly open, exposing my companions still in hibernation, utterly unaware of the impending danger. The monitors have either malfunctioned, or this is a safety device. I force myself not to panic as my breathing becomes labored from the lack of oxygen. I have almost reached Beth. She stares up at me, and I can see relief in her eyes. There is no time to consider the consequences. I rip out her tubes and remove the restraints. Globular clusters of blood and fluid float upward to the widening fracture and disappear. Beth stretches out a hand, “Skye, help me,” she whispers.
Bab Populer