Home Away From Home

In droplets of water, we fell from where we had been seeded in the clouds. Through cold air we soared and plunged, unable to see clearly as the world below was warped and blurred past the water’s edge. But we knew life was waiting for us, and it had been a long journey since the last life we’d found. When we land, we will know what to do.


A group of graduating high school students were enjoying a warm day on the lake, floating on inflatable mattresses, sipping beer, dancing on the dock to the loud music, celebrating the beginning of whatever adulthood would bring them. When the rain started falling, unexpectedly but gently, it didn’t bother them.

Sarah was sitting on a blanket on the grass and brushed a wet lock of hair back off her forehead before looking up into the sky, mouth open to catch a few fresh drops. It had been a hard year for her, and it felt good to have a day to relax and feel herself again. She smiled at the boy walking up to her with two bottles of beer in his hands and it was the first real smile she’d felt in some time.

It took a few days for the pains to start, strange and random and all over her body. Like little pinches under her skin that gradually grew bigger and more frequent. Sarah took some pain relievers one morning, trying not to be distracted by the feelings as she worked on the final essay she owed to her English teacher. Her father was at work, so she set up her laptop on the kitchen counter, poured herself some coffee, then sat on a stool and faced the half-completed draft.

After a few minutes of typing and deleting words, she decided to take a break and opened a social media stream. Rain began to fall outside; she could hear it on the roof and she glanced out to see it splashing down into puddles. Looking back at the screen, she laughed as she watched a video that her best friend shared.

Then she noticed another friend posted about not feeling well. He described the same things she felt. Something must be going around. She commented on his post, “I have that too. Boo.”

And then someone else commented the same. And another person. And another.

Then, a story from the local news. Small animals, like frogs and chipmunks and some birds, were being found dead all over, seemingly ripped open from the inside, their internal organs eaten and only bones and flesh left behind. “Do not handle any dead animal if you see one. Please call local authorities to come and remove the bodies. An investigation is underway.”

Sarah shuddered and switched back to her essay.

The next morning, she woke to the sound of screaming. She threw back her blanket and hurried over to the window and peered into the neighboring back yard. Mrs. Wilson, in her nightgown, was looking down at the bloody remains of her dog, lying on its back with a hole across its belly.

Sarah’s stomach heaved and she rushed into the bathroom to throw up. Pains flitted through her body, more intense than before, and she vomited until nothing was left but the pain.

Her dad hadn’t left for work yet. He was starting to feel the pains too. He gently wiped her face with a wash cloth, placed a coat over her pajamas, and sat her in the car. She cried and twitched with every new jolt of the pain as they drove to the hospital.

The emergency room was packed and panicked. Children screamed, elderly people moaned, parents held each other and sobbed as the bodies of their infants and toddlers were taken away. Staff rushed around, trying to keep the crowd calm while figuring out who was in the most urgent need. Even they were clearly experiencing the pains too, but determined to help as many people as they could.

Sarah’s father pleaded with them to help her. They sat her on a chair in someone’s office, as the beds and waiting rooms were already filled. People came and went, drawing blood, checking her oxygen level and listening to her heart beat. Everyone was being tested for everything they could think of, but no one was answering any questions or offering any possible diagnoses.

Eventually, the children’s cries stopped and more adults were coming in. A dozen people sat in the office with Sarah, all sharing the pain and fear together. She was given drugs to get her to sleep but they only put her in a kind of daze. She felt her father’s arms wrapped around her and his breath on the top of her head as her insides twisted and turned and fell apart. Finally, some time overnight, her end came.


Our journey to this place had been very long. Our hunger seemed endless and we ate until it was finally satiated and then we rested, feeling fat and peaceful in our new home. The food here was abundant, but we remembered that it also seemed that way on our last world. We had known that we should try to be cautious, to plan for sustainability here. But the rainwater that carried us down delivered us everywhere; into the skin of all the creatures that were exposed, into the lakes and rivers and oceans, and into the taps of all the kitchens and bathrooms. If we couldn’t find any life left to farm, we would have to move on yet again.