Offworld by Robin Parrish

air. When Chris had said "Houston," what they heard
was "home" Houston, Texas, was where all American astronauts
were trained, and almost every astronaut made his or her home in
Houston, venturing to Florida solely for launches. The four of them
were no exception.
    "Because of that light we saw on the satellite view?" Trisha voiced
the clear question.
    "That crazy bright light is the only real clue we have," said Chris.
"We have to follow it."
    `Agreed," Owen said, somber. "Let's head home."
    "I don't want to go home," admitted Trisha. "My family isn't waiting for me there. Let's investigate the big light, but Houston won't
be home. Not now. Not like this."

    More silence.
    Owen leaned back in his seat. "I haven't been to the place where
my family lives for two and a half years ... and I need to ... be there.
For a little while. I need to see with my own eyes and feel with my
own hands that that place is still there." When no one responded,
he kept talking. "I've been away from my family for a long time. Too
long. I know I'm not going to find them there, but if I can't have them,
I just need to feel ... home."
    "Okay," Trisha conceded. "But I'd like to make a brief stop in
Orlando on the way there."
    Even Terry didn't comment on this; they all knew what it meant,
and no one was in the mood to make light of it: Trisha's did-he-ordidn't-he-wait boyfriend Paul lived in Orlando.
    "So would I," said Chris, though he did not elaborate. `But then it's
straight on to Houston. Assuming we have transportation, we should
be able to do it in a day and a half, two days. Whatever that light is,
it isn't natural, and I want to know what's causing it."
    When no one argued, Chris sighed, but not in a tired way. "Then
Houston it is. Let's get to work. Terry, Beech, you're on supply duty.
Pack up anything you can find that might be useful, especially food,
clothing, medical supplies. Trisha and I will find our rides."
    "Speaking of supplies ..." Owen said, pulling a laptop out of a
backpack beside his seat. "Trisha and I put our heads together and
patched this into the feed from that high-tech satellite we looked at
yesterday-the one orbiting over the U.S. This remote view will give us
a twenty-four-hour eye in the sky, so we can keep tabs on the weather,
that light in Houston, and anything else that might come tip"
    "Nicely clone," Chris replied, impressed with their forward
thinking.
    As they were rising from the table, Terry looked at the sky. "Where
are the birds?" he asked no one.

    "What?" said Chris, and everyone turned to face Terry.
    Terry pointed up. "We're standing on a wildlife preserve. There
are always birds; I see them when I come down to the Cape. Where
are they?"
    Owen turned, intrigued. "You know, I haven't noticed any gators
or manatees either." Both animals were frequently spotted among the
creeks and marshes throughout the grounds. "Not even a squirrel."
    The four of them glanced at each other and at the sky. As usual,
it was Terry who voiced what everyone was thinking.
    "Did the animals vanish too?"

    It was midday by the time a red pickup truck and a black SUV
sped around the stationary cars on Highway 50, entering Orlando.
Terry was behind the wheel of the truck, Owen at his side; Chris
drove the SUV in front with Trisha riding shotgun.
    They traveled largely in silence, though Terry and Owen had found
some two-way radios so they could stay in contact on the road. In
the time they'd been away, the technology had improved, and these
were small enough to fit just inside the ear.
    Chris couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to them before now that
the roadways would be clogged with vehicles that had been rendered
out of control when their drivers disappeared. It made for very slow
going, dodging so many abandoned automobiles. They were everywhere-trucks and cars and motorcycles and buses, stopped in the
middle of the road, slid off the side of the highway, or rammed into
barriers and