“Cheryl..?”

“Yes Clive?”

“How long has it been?”

“428 days.”

Clive stared at the distant light of Earth through the smudged glass of his helmet. He sat on top of the dark, beaten-down space shuttle as he took in the dystopian fate that was set in place for him.

“I’d like to inform you that you also have approximately–half a week of food left.”

He stayed silent, lightly gripping the support cable that attached him to the craft. The eerie quietness of the endless void he explored was almost comforting for him now, something so unknown became such a normality to him.

He opened his mouth to speak, though his thought was lost in a deeper pit than he was in.

“What’s on your mind?” 

“I  — I don’t know,” Clive looked down at the shuttle beneath him, taking in how fast he was embraced by the silence. The thought of unhooking the wire from his suit and giving himself away to the flow of space was never new. Or just simply taking his helmet off and going out a harsher way never sounded too terrible of an idea, but despite everything he’d gone through, he couldn’t get the confidence to do it. “I just — I just wanted to say I appreciate you.” Speaking even began to feel like too much for him.

“I appreciate you too Clive. How about you head on back inside. It has been a couple hours already.”

“Yeah… Okay.”

He sat there for a little longer, feeling the safety cord through his gloved hands before getting up.

***

“Should I start the track up for you?”  Cheryl’s voice became louder as he took the helmet off, playing throughout the dimly lit shuttle.

“Yes please.”

The astronaut pulled himself down on the empty bed, rubbing his face as he reached to grab a pillow that began floating away from the movement of him sitting down. The faint sound of music began playing in the room, subtle static and fuzziness engulfed the sound mostly, but he didn’t really mind; it’s not like he could complain when nothing else in the shuttle really worked. If he hadn’t managed to salvage Cheryl after the accident and the limited stuff she could still control, he probably wouldn’t have even made it this far. Despite the memories it reminded him of, the track was important to him. It served as a ground for his mind to hold onto so it didn’t get lost within the craze of his loneliness.

When Clive wasn’t focused on the track, the stale smell of the old shuttle took over his mind. It was never a tenuous scent. The metal and musty memories left behind were haunting for Clive, especially the sight of all of the life abandoned on the surrounding bunks from his crew, leaving behind a messy bed, not knowing they’d never come back to it.

Every thought of his life before was so poignant that it was painful. He’d been alone for so long that he had no idea what it felt like to have an interaction with another human anymore. It was all just so much to think about, his mind couldn’t handle or even wrap around normal things anymore.

As he sat, staring down at the pillow in his lap, he began to realize the music sounded strange. The more the minutes went by, the more it became increasingly distorted before it sparked off with a loud click.

“Cheryl?” He looked up, confusion masking his face. There was no answer except for silence, “Cheryl?” Clive called out again, but to no avail it was quiet.

After the second time of no response, he began to feel that drop feeling in his chest, panic creeping up on him as the only sound filling his ears was the eerie creaking of the shuttle. He quickly placed the pillow beside him as he slipped on the shoes near his bed, giving him a better form of gravity while on the ship. He stood up and ran out the room, heading towards what was considered the basement of the ship. The fear of being fully alone terrified him; he couldn’t lose Cheryl, too. Chills crept up his spine as he ran through the ship, it could’ve just been his mind and the fact that there wasn’t sound to keep it at bay, but everything seemed off… As if this ship wasn’t filled with just him. The paranoia of the silence and every little sound made him tense, making it hard to think properly, but eventually he made it to the basement.

The unsettling lit room was cluttered with a lot of empty boxes, shelves that used to hold food, and a big control board for the ship’s technical functions that the cockpit didn’t control. He hated being down there because of how vastly open the space felt and how horrible the lighting was, but he needed to make sure Cheryl was fine.

As he approached the control board he grabbed a small flashlight that was taped to the side of the machinery, he left it there from one of the last times he ventured down. He kneeled to open up a metal plate that led to the wiring on the inside but it seemed to already be opened, very forcefully too.

Clive clicked on the flashlight in an instant, pushing through to look on the inside before his heart dropped. The wiring for Cheryl’s system was destroyed, everything looked like it had been torn to shreds.

“No… No!” Panic surged through him as he stared in disbelief. He scrambled to grab all the wires and circuits, not knowing what to even begin doing with them. The damage was so bad that he’d need a whole new replacement, but it was impossible. He was miles and miles away from Earth.

His panicked actions were interrupted by the familiar sound of a song playing throughout the room. It was the song that played before everything was cut off, almost as if he had rewinded back time.

Clive’s actions slowed down as he listened, staring at the broken parts of what controls the music in his hands. He stayed there for a moment, frozen in concern as the last moments of the song he heard kept being replayed and replayed, including the distortion and sparks. His stomach churned as he backed out from under the control board and turned his flashlight out to the space behind him. He panned the light around shakily, looking for anything or anyone.

“…Cheryl?” He nervously spat out, “Is that you?”

As soon as the last word left his mouth, the music went quiet almost immediately, leaving Clive in silence once again. He continued to stare out into the open space, too scared to look away.

A familiar voice echoed out from the deeper part of the room, filling the creepy stillness, “Yes, Clive.”

His grip on the flashlight tightened as he stared ahead with wide eyes, hesitantly moving his flashlight to the voice. There was nothing there yet he knew that wasn’t Cheryl. She sounded too real this time.

Whatever it was, it shouldn’t have been on the ship.

Clive felt his breathing quicken as he sat there processing the situation. Without Cheryl, he couldn’t think properly, it was like he couldn’t function. She made him feel safe on this empty ship as if he wasn’t truly alone, and now that he really wasn’t alone, she wasn’t there to give him that stability.

The sound of something moving brought him back to reality. Instinctively, he stood up and held onto the edge of the control board. “Who’s there?” He yelled out, moving his flashlight around to try and locate where this thing was.

“Yes, Clive.” It repeated. It was like it only knew samples of her voice.

The astronaut forced his feet forward, taking a few steps as his head darted around, watching every inch near him. He just needed to get out of the basement fast enough before it got to him.

“I know you’re not Cheryl,” he asserted, making his way closer to the exit. The lighting didn’t make it easier for him in this situation, especially the little flashlight he had been using.

No response followed, the silence becoming increasingly more terrifying the more time went. He didn’t think this thing existed until he got closer to the exit, his flashlight catching a darker mass behind the shelf he was next to. He paused, slowly going back to point his flashlight at the same spot, only to be met with nothing. He stared at the spot for a second longer before continuing on, turning the light back in front of him and straight onto a figure peeking behind one of the shelves. Clive’s body locked up as he saw it, fear keeping him still as he locked eyes with a distorted version of himself. It was inhuman the way it mimicked his features. They were recognizable but still somehow stared back with such unnatural, lifeless eyes, almost as if they were bulging out of its skull to see into his soul.

“I know you’re not Cheryl.”

His stomach instantly began churning, pulling itself tighter the more he stared. He watched it speak with his voice, its teeth appearing as it gave him an unsettling smile, covering its darkened face.

Despite the shaky hands Clive had, he kept the flashlight on the anomaly, his thumb slowly moving to change the light setting before quickly switching it to be brighter and more direct. The creature reacted with a disturbing shriek as it affected its eyes, bending over and backing away into a darker part of the room to recover. The astronaut took no second chances and instantly sprinted to the exit next to him, running up the stairs as fast as he could. He could hear the echo of it following him up the stairway with such terrifying pace, only making him quicken his. As soon as he reached the main floor he headed straight for the cockpit. There was a weapon hidden in one of the storage closets in there. If he could make it, he’d have some sort of chance at getting rid of this thing.

The sound of the creature scrambling and breaking things behind him created a pit of dread in his chest, his jaw tightening more and more against itself as he forced himself to move as fast as his body would let him. He made sure to turn sharply at a corner to throw it off its track before finally making it to the cockpit, quickly piling things in front of the door so it had a harder time getting in. He broke the glass casing that protected the weapon, removing it from its holder.

As he stood there with the weapon in hand, facing the door, the creature began banging and scratching it. He began feeling a deeper sensation than fear. He knew that the weapon only had a small percent chance of working on this thing, while he probably had close to 100% chance of not making it. Even if he did survive, he had no food, no way to get home, and no Cheryl. Clive’s focus slowly moved from the door to the bright button on the control panel behind him. If he used it, then this thing wouldn’t roam any longer, and he would be freed of the slow fate that awaited him.

With a few moments of thought, he was brought closer to the control panel, staring down at the encased button of what was now his beacon of hope.

It was the only way.