Stranded!A Story by Samuel DickensSomeone's in a jamDear God, I thought this would never happen. Things like this happen to other people, but never to me. Well, it did happen. This is it; I’ve crashed on some unknown piece of rock and have a snowball’s chance in hell of being rescued. What to do now? Do I just remain here and wait to die from lack of oxygen? An hour later: I’m still breathing. My butt is numb.
“Well, get up off of your butt, then, and get the hell out of there!” Oh, that’s easy for you to say. What do you propose I do--just walk out to the curb and hitch a ride back to the ship? “Put on your suit and get out of that tomb!” That’s against training, you know. “I don’t give a rat’s behind about training! Anything is better than sitting there, waiting to die slowly of oxygen deprivation.” I’m not so sure. The crew of the Intrepid might come for me. I should conserve oxygen and live as long as I can. “That isn’t living--that’s dying. Suit up and get outside. You’ve got to make an effort to save yourself!” Maybe you’re right. “Of course, I’m right. When you were blown off that cliff by laser fire, fell into the river and got tumbled all around beneath the water, you didn’t give up.” No, I held my breath longer than I thought I could, and kept struggling. “You couldn’t tell up from down, so you got smart and looked to see which direction the bubbles went!” That’s right, I did. I followed the bubbles, and they led to the surface. “Yes! You followed the bubbles, and they led to life!” I’m not underwater. There aren’t any bubbles here. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve always found a way before, so do it again.” I don’t even know where I’m at, and looking up through that porthole, I can’t see anything but a strange sky. Is this a planet? A moon? Is the atmosphere caustic and will dissolve my suit as soon as it touches it? “It doesn’t matter, does it? Only slow, certain death awaits you there, inside that wreckage. Now, shut up and get moving!” Maybe I could. “Yes, yes!” There might be hostile aliens out there. “Then you’ll have to blast them!” With what? There aren’t any weapons inside this scout vehicle. “Take the chemical fire extinguisher--that should give ‘em a rash.” Yeah, it is pretty nasty stuff when you get it on you. “See? You just have to be creative in situations like this.” I’m awful banged up from the impact, so it’s not going to be easy getting this suit on. “You’ve had worse.” Yeah, I know, but……ouch, my hip! “C’mon, don’t be a puss.” It’s awful heavy and my arm is……..ugh…… “Are you sure you’re a decorated Starship Trooper?” Yes! I’m…..I’m just…..I’m having a lot of trouble getting this damned thing on! “There’s no one here to help you, so just suck it up and take care of business, Commander!” Alright, give me a minute! “Quit dragging your butt!” Yeah, okay, okay…. I got the frigging, s**t-damn suit on! “Come on outside, then.” Jiminy Cricket, Bobby! There isn’t enough room inside that cardboard box to even scratch my danged nuts, and this homemade tinfoil spacesuit has sharp edges! I think it cut my finger---look! “I told you it was gonna be tough in there. Now take the suit off so I can have my turn.”
The End © 2013 Samuel DickensAuthor's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
653 Views
14 Reviews Added on November 17, 2011 Last Updated on June 10, 2013 AuthorSamuel DickensAlma, ARAboutGreetings, all. I'm a seventy-six year-old father of three sons who enjoys writing, art, music, motorcycles, cooking, and a few other things. From 1967 to 1988, I served in the US Navy, where I travel.. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|