Stellar - Planet Venus: Part One (Chapter Seven)
If you are reading Stellar for the first time, here are the previous chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Peter’s eyes snapped open, his period of restful sleep broken as the train came to a sudden stop. With a yawn, he looked out the window, noticing the sky wasn’t the same clear blue color like Mercury’s was. Or Earth’s. As the doors to the train opened, a stifling, thick wave of air seeped in, hot and humid unlike anything Peter had ever experienced before.
“Well, we’re here,” the kid murmured to no one in particular. He pushed himself out of his seat, dusting off his jeans as he made his way through the door. “I’ll see y’all later.”
The Asian girl pushed herself out of her seat, stumbling in her heels after him. “Hey, Jordan, wait!” she called, stepping out of the train.
The other adults soon stepped out of the train, each heading out one by one. Peter sighed and shook his head. One good deed. He glanced at the ring on his left index finger; it shimmered as he moved his hand, seemingly independent of the light sources around him. As he finally lumbered off the train, it disappeared behind him, vanishing into the dust.
And there was a lot of dust. Even the tall buildings surrounding him had a dusty film all over the windows. The air thickened as he walked, too, feeling more like soup and less like air. It hurt to breathe, causing Peter to take shallow, inefficient breaths.
The heat only made the air's consistency worse. Peter broke out in a sweat and wiped the perspiration from his brow. He scanned the area for signs of any other people. Other than his fellow Challengers, he didn’t see anyone.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him that his metaphysical body apparently still required sustenance. He pulled out his wallet and gave it a glance, a thoughtful frown settling itself on his features. Fingers sifted through bills, counting them slowly. Carefully.
Peter counted the money again, his frown deepening. There were too many bills. Weren’t there? Giving himself a shake, Peter put his wallet back in his pocket and continued onwards, eyes studying each building as he passed by them. Open signs blinked and flickered in the windows of shops, their wares enticing but unwanted.
After some time, the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air. A diner sat on a lonely corner, its open sign flashing, the P dimming on occasion before coming back on. Without hesitating, Peter headed towards its front doors. He furrowed his brow, a sense of familiarity filling him as he made his way inside.
The diner wasn’t busy, open seats and booths far more common than those filled with people. Some tables sat with only a singular customer, a cup of coffee not too far from their elbows. A sign by the front register read that he didn’t need to wait to be seated, so he found a secluded corner of the diner and sat down.
Within minutes of Peter picking up the menu, a waitress appeared at his side, pen and paper at the ready. "What can I get you for, sug'?"
Peter looked up from his menu, his brows furrowing together. "Gina?" he asked, blinking at the woman standing next to him.
Her eyes widened, her jaw going slack for a moment before she looked around the diner. She then leaned over Peter, one hand on the table. "The hell are you doing here, Pete?" She hissed under breath, eyes focused on some point behind him. "You're not dead."
Peter's lips curled slightly at one corner. "Are you doing the Challenge, too?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
Gina raised at eyebrow at him, straightening herself out and touching her pen to the notepad. She glanced around the diner, causing Peter to do the same. "The usual, Pete?" she asked, her voice louder than it needed to be.
Peter frowned in confusion, but nodded, anyway. Gina gave a tight-lipped smile in return, stuffing her pen in the pocket of her apron before walking off. Did he say something wrong? Sighing, he put the menu back where he found it, crossing his arms loosely on top of the table. Gina would be back in a few minutes, no doubt, coffee in hand.
When he heard the porcelain mug clatter beside him, he looked up from the table and into Gina’s eyes. With the way her head was titled, he swore he saw faint bruises wrapped around her neck. “You okay, Gi?” he asked, his eyes stinging.
“So you’re really dead, too, huh?” she countered, settling into the opposite side of the booth for a moment. She kept her voice low, her tone even. “What happened, Pete? Why’re you here? Why’re you --” She paused and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Why’re you doing the Challenge?”
Peter blinked, frowning into his coffee mug, which he had poised at his lips. He paused before tipping it back and swallowing some of the bitter liquid. “I don’t... I don’t know,” he answered, looking down at his coffee. “Just... felt like the right choice to take, I guess.”
“But no one’s ever finished the Challenge before,” she pointed out, sitting up straight. “You don’t gotta do this, Pete. You’re a good man. Always have been.” She reached out, placing a hand on top of his own. “You always been good to me, at least,” she whispered.
Peter pursed his lips together, his heartbeat quickening the longer Gina’s hand remained on top of his own. He looked away from her, tears welling up in his eyes. “No, I wasn’t, Gi,” he murmured, pulling his hand out from under hers. He cradled his head in his hands, shaking his head back and forth. “I didn’t -- I saw the bruises, Gina,” he said. “I didn’t do anything. And now you’re dead.”
“There weren’t anything you could have done, Pete,” she said with a sigh, her hand reaching for the collar of her shirt. She swallowed, the action looking uncomfortable. “I coulda gotten away if I wanted.”
“Not without help,” Peter said, frowning. “I could’ve helped you, Gina. I could have gotten you out of there before he --”
Gina got up from her seat, shaking her head. “Don’t, Pete. It’s not worth it, okay? I’m not worth it. You just gotta keep doing you, okay? You couldn’t have known.”
“Come with me,” Peter urged, grabbing her wrist just as Gina began to walk away. “I didn’t -- I didn’t do anything to help you, when we were alive. Let me -- let me help you now,” he said as she looked down, a slight frown on her features. “You’re still in trouble, right?” he asked, each word slow and deliberate.
Gina’s eyes widened, her mouth falling slightly open before she wrenched her arm away from Peter. “What makes you think that?” she asked. She turned away from Peter, pulling her hand to her chest. “I’m fine, now.”
Her words were soft, barely heard over the din of the restaurant floor. Peter stared after her, his hand still reaching out for her for another moment longer before he curled the same hand around his mug. He stared at his coffee, the black liquid still steaming and swishing inside the cup as he lifted it to his lips.
“You never told me why.” Gina’s voice, her words harsher, this time, more direct. Peter looked up at her, frowning slightly.
“Never told you what?” he asked, his stomach twisting.
“Why you’re here,” Gina clarified, clearing her throat as she placed the plate of food in front of him. “How did you die, Pete?”
Peter looked away from her, his heart sinking in his chest. “I saw the news,” he answered, his shoulders feeling heavy. Gina’s brows bunched together, forming one long brow across her forehead. “I went driving after, and...” Peter sighed, shaking his head. “Does it really matter how I died? All that matters is that I’m here now, and that I can -- I can help you, if you need me to.”
“I don’t need help,” Gina insisted, straightening her apron. Peter noticed another collection of bruises around her wrists. “I told you, Pete. Just do what you gotta do for the Challenge.”
“I’m tryin’ to, Gina,” he muttered, turning towards her. He managed a smile, one that felt shy and hesitant, even to him, as he glanced down at his right hand. His ring from Mercury glinted in the low light of the diner. “Let me help you. Please. And then I’ll move on, I swear.”
Gina shook her head, her eyes closing as she released a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry, Peter. This is the afterlife He gave me. I can’t leave.”
“Sure you can!” he insisted, standing up from his seat. He tossed money down on the table, his hunger forgotten as he took her hands in his own. Gina looked away from him, her expression hardening. “Gina, please. I couldn’t save you before -- I was too hesitant. Just...let me take you with me, okay?”
Just as he thought Gina would pull her hands away, she instead nodded her head. “Okay,” she said, clearing her throat. Her eyes swam with tears, but she lifted her gaze to meet his. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Pete.”
Peter managed a half smile, scuffing his feet along the floor as he let go of Gina’s hands. “I hope I do, too.”
Next Chapter
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Peter’s eyes snapped open, his period of restful sleep broken as the train came to a sudden stop. With a yawn, he looked out the window, noticing the sky wasn’t the same clear blue color like Mercury’s was. Or Earth’s. As the doors to the train opened, a stifling, thick wave of air seeped in, hot and humid unlike anything Peter had ever experienced before.
“Well, we’re here,” the kid murmured to no one in particular. He pushed himself out of his seat, dusting off his jeans as he made his way through the door. “I’ll see y’all later.”
The Asian girl pushed herself out of her seat, stumbling in her heels after him. “Hey, Jordan, wait!” she called, stepping out of the train.
The other adults soon stepped out of the train, each heading out one by one. Peter sighed and shook his head. One good deed. He glanced at the ring on his left index finger; it shimmered as he moved his hand, seemingly independent of the light sources around him. As he finally lumbered off the train, it disappeared behind him, vanishing into the dust.
And there was a lot of dust. Even the tall buildings surrounding him had a dusty film all over the windows. The air thickened as he walked, too, feeling more like soup and less like air. It hurt to breathe, causing Peter to take shallow, inefficient breaths.
The heat only made the air's consistency worse. Peter broke out in a sweat and wiped the perspiration from his brow. He scanned the area for signs of any other people. Other than his fellow Challengers, he didn’t see anyone.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him that his metaphysical body apparently still required sustenance. He pulled out his wallet and gave it a glance, a thoughtful frown settling itself on his features. Fingers sifted through bills, counting them slowly. Carefully.
Peter counted the money again, his frown deepening. There were too many bills. Weren’t there? Giving himself a shake, Peter put his wallet back in his pocket and continued onwards, eyes studying each building as he passed by them. Open signs blinked and flickered in the windows of shops, their wares enticing but unwanted.
After some time, the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air. A diner sat on a lonely corner, its open sign flashing, the P dimming on occasion before coming back on. Without hesitating, Peter headed towards its front doors. He furrowed his brow, a sense of familiarity filling him as he made his way inside.
The diner wasn’t busy, open seats and booths far more common than those filled with people. Some tables sat with only a singular customer, a cup of coffee not too far from their elbows. A sign by the front register read that he didn’t need to wait to be seated, so he found a secluded corner of the diner and sat down.
Within minutes of Peter picking up the menu, a waitress appeared at his side, pen and paper at the ready. "What can I get you for, sug'?"
Peter looked up from his menu, his brows furrowing together. "Gina?" he asked, blinking at the woman standing next to him.
Her eyes widened, her jaw going slack for a moment before she looked around the diner. She then leaned over Peter, one hand on the table. "The hell are you doing here, Pete?" She hissed under breath, eyes focused on some point behind him. "You're not dead."
Peter's lips curled slightly at one corner. "Are you doing the Challenge, too?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
Gina raised at eyebrow at him, straightening herself out and touching her pen to the notepad. She glanced around the diner, causing Peter to do the same. "The usual, Pete?" she asked, her voice louder than it needed to be.
Peter frowned in confusion, but nodded, anyway. Gina gave a tight-lipped smile in return, stuffing her pen in the pocket of her apron before walking off. Did he say something wrong? Sighing, he put the menu back where he found it, crossing his arms loosely on top of the table. Gina would be back in a few minutes, no doubt, coffee in hand.
When he heard the porcelain mug clatter beside him, he looked up from the table and into Gina’s eyes. With the way her head was titled, he swore he saw faint bruises wrapped around her neck. “You okay, Gi?” he asked, his eyes stinging.
“So you’re really dead, too, huh?” she countered, settling into the opposite side of the booth for a moment. She kept her voice low, her tone even. “What happened, Pete? Why’re you here? Why’re you --” She paused and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Why’re you doing the Challenge?”
Peter blinked, frowning into his coffee mug, which he had poised at his lips. He paused before tipping it back and swallowing some of the bitter liquid. “I don’t... I don’t know,” he answered, looking down at his coffee. “Just... felt like the right choice to take, I guess.”
“But no one’s ever finished the Challenge before,” she pointed out, sitting up straight. “You don’t gotta do this, Pete. You’re a good man. Always have been.” She reached out, placing a hand on top of his own. “You always been good to me, at least,” she whispered.
Peter pursed his lips together, his heartbeat quickening the longer Gina’s hand remained on top of his own. He looked away from her, tears welling up in his eyes. “No, I wasn’t, Gi,” he murmured, pulling his hand out from under hers. He cradled his head in his hands, shaking his head back and forth. “I didn’t -- I saw the bruises, Gina,” he said. “I didn’t do anything. And now you’re dead.”
“There weren’t anything you could have done, Pete,” she said with a sigh, her hand reaching for the collar of her shirt. She swallowed, the action looking uncomfortable. “I coulda gotten away if I wanted.”
“Not without help,” Peter said, frowning. “I could’ve helped you, Gina. I could have gotten you out of there before he --”
Gina got up from her seat, shaking her head. “Don’t, Pete. It’s not worth it, okay? I’m not worth it. You just gotta keep doing you, okay? You couldn’t have known.”
“Come with me,” Peter urged, grabbing her wrist just as Gina began to walk away. “I didn’t -- I didn’t do anything to help you, when we were alive. Let me -- let me help you now,” he said as she looked down, a slight frown on her features. “You’re still in trouble, right?” he asked, each word slow and deliberate.
Gina’s eyes widened, her mouth falling slightly open before she wrenched her arm away from Peter. “What makes you think that?” she asked. She turned away from Peter, pulling her hand to her chest. “I’m fine, now.”
Her words were soft, barely heard over the din of the restaurant floor. Peter stared after her, his hand still reaching out for her for another moment longer before he curled the same hand around his mug. He stared at his coffee, the black liquid still steaming and swishing inside the cup as he lifted it to his lips.
“You never told me why.” Gina’s voice, her words harsher, this time, more direct. Peter looked up at her, frowning slightly.
“Never told you what?” he asked, his stomach twisting.
“Why you’re here,” Gina clarified, clearing her throat as she placed the plate of food in front of him. “How did you die, Pete?”
Peter looked away from her, his heart sinking in his chest. “I saw the news,” he answered, his shoulders feeling heavy. Gina’s brows bunched together, forming one long brow across her forehead. “I went driving after, and...” Peter sighed, shaking his head. “Does it really matter how I died? All that matters is that I’m here now, and that I can -- I can help you, if you need me to.”
“I don’t need help,” Gina insisted, straightening her apron. Peter noticed another collection of bruises around her wrists. “I told you, Pete. Just do what you gotta do for the Challenge.”
“I’m tryin’ to, Gina,” he muttered, turning towards her. He managed a smile, one that felt shy and hesitant, even to him, as he glanced down at his right hand. His ring from Mercury glinted in the low light of the diner. “Let me help you. Please. And then I’ll move on, I swear.”
Gina shook her head, her eyes closing as she released a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry, Peter. This is the afterlife He gave me. I can’t leave.”
“Sure you can!” he insisted, standing up from his seat. He tossed money down on the table, his hunger forgotten as he took her hands in his own. Gina looked away from him, her expression hardening. “Gina, please. I couldn’t save you before -- I was too hesitant. Just...let me take you with me, okay?”
Just as he thought Gina would pull her hands away, she instead nodded her head. “Okay,” she said, clearing her throat. Her eyes swam with tears, but she lifted her gaze to meet his. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Pete.”
Peter managed a half smile, scuffing his feet along the floor as he let go of Gina’s hands. “I hope I do, too.”
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