“We should open the others. Take inventory,” Erika says, already pulling out another one. “Maybe there’s enough for all of us.”
Some of the other women look on, peering but not seemingly interested in what we’re doing. Others have drifted back outside, marveling at the landscape we’ve managed to find ourselves on.
That leaves just the four of us checking the cases—me, Jacqui, Mikaela and Erika.
“You’re right,” I tell her, already opening another one. “We need to take inventory. This one contains similar items, but also includes a small medical kit.”
I hand the first aid kit to Mikaela, who grabs it and hurries back down the aisle to the nurse and the little infirmary at the front of the bus.
“Hydration packets, food packets, emergency blankets…” Erika trails off. “They planned for us to be here.”
I stop searching the case before me to look at her. “Well…maybe not here exactly.” I keep my voice low, not wanting to alarm the other women around us. “I think something went wrong.”
Erika’s throat moves, but she doesn’t reply. The look in her eyes, though, it tells me I’m dead on.
“Search the cases,” Jacqui whispers. “We need to find a beacon.” Her gaze slides to mine and I can read the anxiety but also that quiet strength I’ve always admired in my sister. The same strength that kept me going after our mother died and Jacqui didn’t speak a word out loud for months. I give her a silent nod, neither us nor Erika saying anything more on the subject until Tina appears, face buried in the manual. She almost falls over Jacqui in her intense concentration.
“Oof! Sorry!” She rights herself. “It says here that all research locations are equipped with ‘basic human survival necessities, accessible once found.’ Whatever that means.” Her gaze then falls to the cases before us. “Oh. Guess…guess you found them. There’s something else I found too.”
Something curdles in my chest. “What?”
“It’s—it’s here. In the fine print.” She points to a section of text so small I have to squint to see it.
“‘The Earth-Xyma Alliance Environmental Adaptation Research Program includes off-world testing in controlled biospheres replicating Xyma habitation zones,’” she reads. “‘Participants may be relocated via standard Xyma transportation protocols to other world testing sites for the duration of the research period.’”
“‘Other world’ testing sites?” Jacqui repeats. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Tina, let me see that,” Erika says, taking the manual. She skims the text, her expression growing darker. “Oh my God. There’s more. ‘Relocation may include standard cryogenic suspension for interplanetary transit. All medical side effects of such procedures are covered under the EXA health protocol.’”
“We signed up for this?” The cheery lady, Pam, suddenly appears. Her smile seems frozen on her face; her perpetual optimism finally cracking. “I don’t remember agreeing to leave Earth.”
“That’s because they buried it in the fine print,” Mikaela returns, gaze shifting to the cases before us. “Classic corporate bullshit. Except instead of stealing our data, they stole our whole fucking bodies.”
I run my hands through my hair—my bun is all but dislodged anyway. Turning from the group, my gaze travels over the vast expanse of sand I can see through the crack in the metal before us.
“But why? Why would they take us to…wherever this is? And then just drop us here?” someone else asks.
“Survival program, lady.” Someone else says. “They never said how and as far as I see it, this is exactly what we signed up for.”
That makes everyone go silent.
I hold Jacqui’s gaze, not really sure what I’m supposed to feel.
“The recording,” Jacqui whispers. “Before we landed. It said something about a payload being compromised. Engine failing.”
“They dumped us,” Erika whispers back. When my gaze shifts back at her, she’s clenching her teeth. “Something went wrong with their transport, and they jettisoned us to save the main ship.”
“Like fucking cargo,” Jacqui spits.
I shake my head. It can’t have been that. I refuse to believe. Closing my eyes, I try to keep my rising panic at bay. “Okay. Okay. Let’s think this through. They wouldn’t just abandon us completely.”
“Maybe they’re watching us. Who the fuck knows?” Jacqui throws her hands up.
“That would mean they planned for us to be here.” Mikaela crouches, pushing a few of the items in the case before us.
Jacqui scoffs. “Are you kidding? You think they meant to crash-land us in a desert with a sun that’s got a raging boner? This wasn’t planned.”
“Actually…” Tina adjusts her glasses, still studying the manual. “The pamphlet does mention ‘simulated emergency scenarios’ as part of the adaptation testing. It says, ‘Participants will encounter various survival situations designed to test human adaptability in Xyma-compatible environments.’”
Some of the women exchange hopeful glances.
“See?” Pam claps her hands together, her optimism returning. “This is all part of the test! We’re supposed to be here!”
“Then why did that automated voice say the payload was compromised?” Jacqui crosses her arms. “Why say the engine was failing? That sounded like a real emergency to me, not a simulation.”
“I didn’t hear that,” someone else speaks up.
“I did.” Erika stands. “And that crash wasn’t controlled. People are seriously hurt.”
“Maybe it’s more extreme than we expected,” one woman suggests. “You know, like those hardcore reality shows where they drop people in the wilderness?”
Erika shakes her head. “No reality show would risk killing contestants. That woman with the head injury could have died.”
“Maybe the Xyma don’t see it that way,” Tina says quietly. She flips another page in the manual.
“What do you mean?” I ask, a chill running down my spine despite the oppressive heat.
Tina shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. They’re aliens. Maybe the Xyma view risk differently than we do. They have longer lifespans, more advanced medicine. Maybe what seems dangerous to us is just…data collection to them.”
“And that’s exactly what we signed up for.” Mikaela’s shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh.
“Data collection.” Jacqui gestures at the barren landscape. “There’s nothing out here but sand and rocks.”
“Which means we should stay with the transport,” I stand, gaze shifting over the interior of the bus. “If this is a test, they’ll be monitoring us, right? And if it’s not—if something really did go wrong—then staying with the wreckage makes it easier for rescue to find us.”
“If anybody’s coming to rescue us,” Mikaela mutters.
“The container still has shade,” Erika points out. “And we don’t know what’s out there or how far we’d need to go to find shelter.”
Several nods of agreement follow her words.
“We should check if there’s a beacon or communication device in these cases,” Jacqui says, returning to the supplies. “Something to contact the EXA, find out what’s happening.”
As we continue searching through the cases, a heated debate breaks out among the group. Some women, led by Pam, insist this is all part of the test—that we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be, and our response is being evaluated. Others, like Erika and Mikaela, are convinced we’ve been abandoned and need to focus solely on survival.