That day, rain mixed with snow fell, and even at noon, visibility was no better than on a moonless night—just a few meters. Darkness pressed down on us, forcing us to work tirelessly. There was such noise in my temples as if blood were boiling, and a fog clouded my eyes. Every time I swung the crowbar, the fog jumped up and down, and I involuntarily squeezed my eyes shut.
At lunch, Emily and Sarah went to ATLAS to get food. They returned somber and, while we ate canned meat sprinkled with iodine (Sarah made each of us take 130 mg of potassium iodide daily), remained silent.
"We have to make a difficult decision," Sarah said anxiously. "If we don't give Hunter a blood transfusion today, he won't last until tomorrow..."
I understood perfectly well that Hunter was seriously ill, but for some reason, I was sure he'd recover. In his life, he'd been through so many troubles, so many incredibly tough trials that my mind simply couldn't accept the thought of his death. And from what??? From some invisible X-rays? That was impossible to believe.
"Are you sure this will save him? I'm ready to give my blood immediately."
"No, I'm not sure!" Sarah, as always, spoke frankly. "What he needs more now is bone marrow. But as an officer and a doctor, I must do everything in my power."
"What's his blood type?" Howard suddenly asked.
"Type A, positive..."
"I have type B," Howard announced.
"I have type B too," I said regretfully.
"Keila and I don't know ours," Emily said guiltily.
"Unfortunately, I also have type B," Sarah said sadly. "What should we do?"
"I'm more than sure the shelter has large supplies of not only blood plasma but also bone marrow." I immediately stood up and furiously grabbed the shovel.
"We won't leave here until we move that rock."
Of course, it was a reckless decision, but I realized that only later.
We worked until completely exhausted, and when we thought we'd finally managed to dig under the rock, we went down to where ATLAS was parked to get the jack. There, in the cabin, we found Hunter's body already stiff on the floor.
"We should bury him immediately; infection is possible," Sarah went to the cargo hold for a stretcher, and we silently moved the body onto it.
Sarah went ahead, and Howard and I, taking the stretcher, carried Hunter's body first to the shaft opening, where the electric light still burned. Then, after resting, we decided to climb a few hundred meters to the very mountaintop, where a small plateau had a few trees—three dried junipers—and thick shrubs up to one and a half meters high.
The three of us took turns digging a grave for Hunter. Carefully placing the body, we began filling the grave with earth mixed with limestone. First, we covered his legs, then his torso, and none of us dared to throw stony soil on his face for a long time. Rain mixed with snow fell, sometimes intensifying, sometimes stopping; clouds saturated with water and soot flew so low over us that sometimes we couldn't see each other at all, but our shovels scraped and poured tirelessly. More and more soil fell on the body of my best friend.
It seemed I had lost everything and no longer felt pain. I felt hollowed out. I was no longer sure I had ever worked at a military base, that a green, flowering city had existed in the desert with my cozy bachelor apartment, 14 years of work on the "Alice" project, an ex-wife who had caused me so much grief.
Hunter... who appeared in my life so suddenly, as if torn by fate from another time, and in a short moment became far more than just a friend. He became a support, a voice of reason, a steel frame to lean on when the whole world collapsed around us. In him was that calm confidence that made you believe: despite the catastrophe that tore humanity to shreds, we could still survive. Could rise from the ashes, endure everything, and someday revive our species—humanity, which might finally understand its mad mistakes and choose the path of peace, creation, and prosperity...
All my memories seemed no more than a fairy tale heard in childhood from a woman called mother... I mechanically scooped soil with the shovel, mechanically threw it, forcing myself to take a step one way, then a step the other...
"That's enough!" Sarah commanded, but I kept throwing limestone, increasing the already high mound now over a meter tall, until Sarah came and led me away by the arm, down to where ATLAS stood.
That night, I dreamed of my mother, father, and many who had long since died. They all reproached me for something, accused me, threatened retribution. I felt no guilt but didn't try to justify myself, and they didn't listen anyway. Round calendar dates always seemed like harbingers of catastrophe to everyone. Mother, father, and other adults many years ago, when I was just a child, were convinced our civilization would perish in the year 2000. Probably, it was a kind of superstitious fear passed down from distant generations raised by the church and believing in a better world in heaven after the inevitable end of the world, when the Final Judgment would reward everyone according to their merits... And now the end had come, not in 2000 but in 2037... and the inevitable happened. So, did our ancestors many millennia ago, who believed in the Bible, foresee this?
In the morning, a whisper woke me from a heavy sleep. Listening, I immediately understood Sarah and Commander Daniels were talking.
"...He's burning up," Sarah said. "God forbid it's pneumonia..."
"Who are they talking about?" I tried to comprehend what I'd heard.
After all, besides me, Daniels, and Lieutenant Howard, no one else is in the cabin. So if they're talking about one of us, either I or the colonel is sick.
"Is it perhaps due to anxiety?" I heard Daniels's whisper. "Sometimes I start doubting my own sanity..."
"Mental disturbance doesn't raise body temperature," Sarah objected.
"I don't know, Captain, but sometimes I also feel like I'm on fire..."
I made my presence known with a cough.
"Awake?" she asked, pleased.
"What else?" I decided to answer in a joking tone. "I gave myself an order: not to die yet... I don't even have the right to be sick..."
I struggled to get up, but my legs trembled.
"We need to set up the tent and move everything outside. Time to unload ATLAS."
This was the first decision I made without Hunter's involvement. Once again, I felt with piercing sharpness how much he had meant to me.