Weeds Grow in the Darndest Places

“Marshall, your O2 levels are getting low, come back to Base for a swap.” Prescott’s voice vibrates my earpiece, pulling me out of my focused trance. You wouldn’t think rock-collecting would be a difficult task, but in a three hundred-pound spacesuit with giant Michelin-Man gloves, it’s not exactly easy. After zipping my last sample bag, I haul myself up from the green-yellow dusty rock beneath me. I try my damndest to stretch my back, but the mechanics strapped to my shoulders don’t allow for much flexibility. I’ll have to pay a visit to Nipper, who, in addition to being a doctoral candidate for astronomy, is a licensed chiropractor. “Nipper the Nerd” is her official title on the mission, it’s on her suit and everything. 

“All set, Marsh,” I respond, holding the com button on my wrist, “I’m 200 yards out.”

I take my time getting back to Base, scanning the ground before I stomp over the uneven terrain, stirring up mustard-colored dirt clouds. Stomp right, stomp left. Stomp right, stomp le–

A split second before my left foot makes contact, I see something in my peripheral vision. But, my foot comes down hard on the dusty surface of the planet and my vision is temporarily obscured. I wave my hand back and forth, trying to clear my line of sight. 

When the dust settles, I freeze. Three feet away, nestled between two small boulders, is a… dandelion?

“Uh, Marsh?” I speak into the com, needing some reassurance that I’m not oxygen-deprived and hallucinating. 

“Torrence, I told you, get your ass back to Base!” the commander yells. “Your O2 levels are almost critical, and if you make me fill up your goddamn reserve tank, I’ll–”

“Marsh!” I cut him off desperate to have another pair of eyes on the sight before me. “I need you to check my bodycam footage. Live. Right now.”

There’s a pause, as I’m sure Marshall is pulling the live feed from the camera attached to my helmet. I can almost hear the small lens whirring as it zooms. The com is quiet for a few more moments, and I wonder if he’s forgotten about my oxygen levels. 

“Come back to Base and refill, Lieutenant. Over.” Marsh says, suddenly official. He must be recording this for headquarters. I don’t blame him, so I follow suit.

“On my way, Commander. Over.”

At Base, I find the entire crew huddled around the main monitor, which shows my cam footage zoomed way in on the dandelion. 

“‘Who needs a botanist for a scouting mission?’” Perez mocks the head researcher from headquarters. “It’s almost like I saw this coming!”

“To be fair,” Nipper cuts in, “It’s definitely not protocol to send a botanist on a scouting mission, especially to Venus.”

“She has a point,” I say as I join the huddle. “This is the very last thing I expected to see on this mission. Especially here.”

Perez shrugs, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Well, Nipper, it seems you may need that biology minor after all.”

“No one believes me when I say it was all necessary,” Nipper mutters as she pulls out her laptop. A few clicks, and she starts announcing atmospheric statistics to the group. “So, logically, no organic life should be able to survive in this climate, let alone thrive.”

“No shit,” Marshall laughs, “that’s why we’re all sitting here scratching our heads, Nipper.”

All heads turn to Nipper, whose eyes still dart back and forth as she reads whatever is on her screen. “Well, what if…” she trails off, and the rest of us collectively hold our breaths for her next words. 

“What if what?” Perez blurts, impatience winning him over.

“Well, this is completely hypothetical,” she begins, making eye contact with each of us. “Hy. Po. Thet. Ic. Al,” she emphasizes each syllable like she’s speaking to a group of children. I roll my eyes and sit on an extra stool, knowing whatever comes out of Nipper’s mouth next will be a long, overexplained definition of some obscure phenomenon.

“Hypothetically,” she begins again, as if we didn’t hear her the first time, “if certain conditions prevail in another area, where the majority of the life system, like ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent of it, resides, a small offshoot like the one we see could survive for a short period of time. It would almost be like the system is testing the waters.”

“But where is the other ninety-nine percent?” Marshall asks, echoing my thoughts and I’m sure Perez’s. Before Nipper can answer, though, realization strikes. There’s only one place it could be in this wasteland–

“Underground,” Nipper and I say at the same time. We hold each other’s eyes, the gravity of that word crashing over us like relentless waves in a sea storm. My chest constricts as I rethink the odd numbers on my own laptop when we arrived four rotations ago. Before we set up Base, a glorified, pressurized camping tent, I set up my seismograph. As the crew’s geologist, my job is to get readings on the ground below the landing site and the Base site, so we don’t accidentally set up camp on an unstable underground cavern or something. Our site was safe, but about two hundred yards out, I got a few odd readings that I couldn’t make sense of. And, since we don’t have a drill, There wasn’t much I could do about it. Assuming, since Venus is mostly igneous rock, there would be some parts of this planet with odd underground formations, I wrote it off. Now, though…

“Suit up,” Marshall commands as he rises from the desk chair. “Let’s go check it out.”

We stand in a circle around the weed poking through the boulders, none of us really sure how to proceed. Nipper crouches and extends her hand slowly, reaching for one of the leaves connected to the short stem. She hesitates, like she’s afraid it’ll bite her, or disintegrate in her hand. 

“Just do it, Nipper,” the commander instructs. “It’s not like we don’t have footage of it.” All of our cams were set on manual recording, just in case we lost connection with everyone out of Base. 

Nipper pinches the leaf between her heavily-clad fingers and pulls, breaking the leaf from the stem. She stares for a moment, fascinated, before whipping out a sample bag and carefully placing the specimen inside. 

“Now what?” Perez asks. As the rocket scientist, or “Astrophysical Engineer” as he prefers, this has the very least to do with his duties on this mission. He probably should’ve stayed on Base, as we’re required to always have at least one person to answer messages from headquarters at all times, but Marshall told him we’d claim special circumstances if anyone asks. And this is the most special circumstance. 

“Let’s pull it,” I suggest, only half kidding. Nipper looks at me like I’ve grown a second head before she scoffs.

“‘Let’s pull it,’ come on, Torrence,” she mocks me, rolling her eyes. “Be serious.”

“I am,” I assert, turning to Marshall. “It’s the only way we’ll find out what’s really going on here.”

“But we could destroy it!” Nipper squeals. Her voice always gets insanely high-pitched when she’s upset. I know I’m pissing her off, but we didn’t come all the way here to take pictures and walk around. 

“So?” I toss back, getting agitated now. “We’re scientists, goddamn it! It’s our job.”

“Torrence is right,” Marshall says. Nipper and I whip our heads to him, both of us surprised. “Just pull the damn weed.”

“I call it!” Perez shouts into the com, making us all cringe. He steps forward, but Nipper stops him, throwing her arm across his chest. 

“No! There’s a proper procedure to follow, and we need to try to keep it all in one piece for research…”

As she continues her tirade, I step behind Nipper and unceremoniously yank the weed from between the rocks. Marshall laughs through the coms, and I smile. But, it fades as I look down at my hand. 

“Torrence!” Nipper screeches, but I barely register her shout. Flowing from the tiny flower in my hand is a long, thick root. Several small offshoots are sprinkled along its thick circumference, and the length disappears into the small opening from which I pulled the dandelion. 

“Holy shit,” Perez whispers. 

“My sentiments exactly,” Nipper breathes. 

“Start digging, Torrence,” Marshall commands as he turns back to Base. 

Armed with only my sample collecting kit, I lead the crew back to the site. We left the dandelion attached to the root, Nipper finally winning over Marshall on “proper procedure.”

“Just telling you guys now, this is going to take a while,” I warn as I kneel on the rocks. 

“It’s going to take even longer if you keep yapping,” Perez chuckles. 

“Leave him alone, Perez,” Nipper scolds, bumping him with her elbow. They continue to argue back and forth as I line up the pick a few inches from the opening, planning to chip off about eight square centimeters at a time. I silently curse the metric system as I tap the mallet on the stake three times. I only achieve a small crack, not nearly enough to break a piece off yet. I look up at Marshall, exasperated. 

“Can you shut those two up?”

“Hey!” Perez fakes indignation by dramatically holding his hand to his chest.

“Shut up, you two,” Marshall grumbles, and they do. Finally.

I give the chisel three more strikes and sit back on my heels. “Marsh, this is going to take for–”

I’m interrupted by three identical knocks, coming from below the Venusian dandelion.

I stare at the ground where my pick still rests, my other hand paused mid-tap. My heart is beating in my throat, and it feels as if all of the air has been sucked out of my spacesuit. Next to me, the root of the dandelion coils like a snake, an ominous omen.

“Oh my god,” Nipper whispers, her hands raised to her helmet like she wants to pull at her hair. Perez has gone completely still, which is just as off-putting. He’s always fidgeting, or pacing, or gesticulating wildly. Marshall immediately drops to his knees next to me, leaning toward the rocks like he’s trying to hear more. 

“How do you want me to proceed, cap?” I ask quietly after a few moments of stillness and silence have passed. Marshall pushes himself into a sitting position and shrugs. I lift my palms in frustration, why won’t the man in charge take charge?

“Do it again,” Perez orders, and all three heads whip around to face him. He widens his stance and crosses his arms in front of him. “Do it again, Torrence.” 

I look to Marshall, who only shrugs again. I resume my position and chip into the rock again, three times. A small piece breaks free and clatters to the dirt by my knees. Every muscle in my body tenses as I still myself, but my heart is beating so loudly in my ears that I’m afraid I might miss the returning knock. 

But, I don’t. Three identical knocks sound back, the same as before. I furrow my brow, confusion setting in. It’s possible, but extremely unlikely, that we are standing above a gargantuan underground tavern. Large enough that a returning echo might be delayed a few seconds, and empty enough that it would sound almost just as loud coming back. I look to Nipper, her eyes and hands twitching, and I know she’s probably calculating the same scenario, but with real numbers, the nerd.

“We should get back to Base,” Marshall states, rising from his knees to stand over me. “O2 is getting low.”

Sometimes it feels like that’s all he ever says.

“But we’re on the brink of a major scientific discovery!” Nipper nearly shrieks. “How can we go back now?”

“Nipper, we’re the only people on this godforsaken planet,” Marshal returns as he steps forward. “The weed will still be here in an hour. Now, get your asses back to base, that’s an order.” He stomps off toward the white plastic bunker. I gather my sample collecting kit, haphazardly shoving things back into the aluminum box. I haven’t even made it back to Base for a refill, and I’m already itching to get back out here. 

Nipper lingers, though, staring at the plant and its ropey root. I backtrack to where she stands and wrap a heavily-insulated arm around her. 

“C’mon, Nip,” I say as I lead her away, “I bet I can get our tanks refilled in half an hour.” 

We follow Perez into Base, stripping to our thermal unders immediately after repressurizing. Marshall is already bent over the main computer, typing furiously at what I’m sure is a report to headquarters. We wordlessly remove our memory chips from our cameras and place them in a small pile next to the commander, who doesn’t acknowledge us. Unfortunately for Nipper, we’ll have to wait until he’s done uploading the footage to go back out. 

I barely touch my ass to a stool at a nearby table when the weather sensors start sounding their alarms. One glance at the small monitor in the little briefcase-looking computer and I knew this storm would be a big one. Not big enough to abort, but it could cause some real damage. The dandelion probably wouldn’t survive, though. 

Nipper practically sprints to the weather station and braces her hands on the table. I watch as she takes in the information displayed in front of her, and she deflates. 

“No,” she whimpers, scrolling through the numbers broadcasted from the multiple antennas surrounding the Base. “We were so close.”

“At least you still have a sample,” Perez chirps as he saunters over. He leans over the top of the computer, facing Nipper. “And we have over two hours of footage between the four of us.”

“We should’ve brought it back,” she argues, shoving away from the weather station. “I knew we shouldn’t have left it.”

Wasn’t she the one arguing that we shouldn’t disturb it? Wasn’t she shaking like a leaf when she went to pull one from the plant? I bite my tongue, knowing that putting those thoughts into the air would only make things worse. Especially if we have to barricade ourselves in this giant tube for hours until the storm passes. 

“We did what we could,” Perez soothes, or at least tries to. “Storms happen, we couldn’t have predicted it.”

“We should’ve,” Nipper counters. She turns heel and storms off to her bunk, grabbing her laptop on the way. 

“Great, now we can’t play Pictionary,” he sighs. I chuckle, knowing that’s not the only reason he’s disappointed in Nipper’s sour mood. A little bit of romance has been budding between the two reclusive scientists since training, but it’s often mistaken for dislike to those who don’t know any better. For me, though, I watched Perez’s strict gym visits become more flexible as he stays late to pester Nipper or make her a fresh pot of coffee. As for her, the former cave-like office that was always locked turned into a welcoming, almost professional workspace, save the futon in the corner that I’m sure she slept in more than her own bed. 

“I don’t know why you kids can’t work things out,” I say to Perez as I shake my head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He walks to his own bunk, but I know it’ll only be a matter of minutes before he’s at Nipper’s door.

“All good, Marsh?” I call over to him, and he’s still in the same position as when we came in. He’s finished typing, and now it seems as if he’s watching each frame of footage, studying it for a few seconds before moving to the next. 

He only grunts in response, but I expected nothing less. 

Outside, the wind starts to pick up as the storm closes in. Venus’s rain sounds a lot like our own, which is comforting until one remembers that the rain will quite literally melt the skin from one’s bones.

“How’s the storm looking, Torrence?” Marshall asks without lifting his head. 

“Gonna be a rough one, cap,” I respond, glancing at the screen again. A small blue circle marks our location in the center of the screen. The giant green blob is creeping closer and closer, the acidic rain pattering on the domed ceiling reflecting what I’m seeing before me. 

Marshall abruptly stands from the desk, and when he walks away, I see the main monitor displaying a static screen. I turn back to the weather station and see that the radar has turned blue. We’ve lost satellite connection. Great.

The wind picks up, blowing rocks against the plexiglass windows. Nipper appears in the common area shortly before Perez emerges from his own room. It’s not uncommon that we crave each other’s presence while the world outside rears an ugly head, as if we know this might kill us and we don’t want to die alone. 

We glance around at each other, unsure of next moves. Usually we wit around the weather station to watch the radar, but no satellite connection is almost the same thing as no power. At least we aren’t sitting in the dark. 

“Pictionary?” Perez looks at each of us, smiling. I see through it, though, the storm is making him uneasy. In all honesty, I’m not sure about it either. Base can withstand a lot, and the structure has gone through much worse than this during testing. But, something doesn’t feel right. Today’s events replay in my head like a movie, only now, instead of a sci-fi movie, it’s a horror movie. I feel as though an audience watches me on a screen, yelling at me to “turn around, it’s right behind you!” or “don’t open that door!”

The Pictionary box rattles as Perez pulls it from his personal storage shelf, startling me out of my thoughts. It’s only a temporary reprieve as the returned knocks sound in my head again. 

Everyone freezes. My brow creases as I look at my three crewmates, all wide-eyed and pale, as if everyone saw a ghost and I somehow missed it. 

“What’s–” blood drains from my face as I realize those knocks weren’t in my head. Ice-cold dread swirls up my spine in a cascade, and the hair on my arms and neck stand ramrod straight. 

Perez is holding his breath.

Nipper looks like she’s going to cry.

Marshall’s eyes are flying around in his skull, like he’s trying to look through every window at once. 

My heart throbs in my ears, and I hear my blood coursing through my veins.

Suddenly, the power blinks out. Nipper lets out a yelp before audibly clapping her hand over her mouth. I hear her sniffle, the tears finally spilled over. 

To my left, Marshall stands, his stool scratching the floor in a terrible screech. “I’ll go check the–”

Three knocks, identical to the knocks plaguing my mind, sound throughout the Base. But, I know they’re not in my head this time. 

They came from the window next to me.

“It was just a dream, honey,” I cooed softly to my son. My husband sat on the small bed next to me, rubbing my back as I cradled Liam’s tiny body in my arms. “It was only a dream.”

Liam whimpered, further fracturing my heart. It had been weeks since his nightmares started, and they were consistent. Every night, around 2:30 in the morning, Liam would scream. “No! No! Stay away!” he’d beg the figment of his imagination. And every night, my husband and I would run to his room and comfort him until he fell asleep once again. 

We tried everything. We let him sleep with us, but he still woke up screaming. We bought him weighted blankets, soothing nightlights, we gave him magnesium and children’s melatonin, but nothing seemed to work. Will and I were exhausted each morning, and determined to find a solution to Liam’s problem. 

Thankfully, Liam never remembered the previous night. He would go back to sleep after being rocked and shushed for about half an hour, then wake up refreshed and jovial that morning. And other than these nightmares, Liam was perfect. Just a boy of four, he loved Pre-K and his friends, he was learning to ride a bike, he loved watching baseball and football with Will, and he was overall a happy being. 

Which is why his screams broke my heart to pieces each night.

After Liam fell asleep in my arms for what felt like the thousandth time, I lowered him back onto his bed. He looked so little, wrapped in his monster truck pajamas and curled up under his Toy Story quilt. The sight, his innocence and vulnerability, brought tears to my eyes. 

When Will and I returned to our own bed, I turned to face him. “I can’t keep doing this,” I choked, holding back a sob. Tears were streaming down my face, now. Will lifted a hand and wiped one away with his thumb. 

“I know,” he whispered. “Maybe we should take him to see someone.”

That was the last thing I wanted to do for a number of reasons, the main one being that Liam didn’t know that he has these nightmares. I didn’t want to take him to some sterile sleep clinic and have a stranger ask him questions he didn’t know the answer to. Or to put him on a medication that I knew nothing about. 

But, our options and my patience were wearing thin.

“I guess it’s time, isn’t it?”

Four days later, our little family sat in the waiting room at the sleep clinic downtown. Will and I tried our best to prepare Liam for the appointment, telling him about the big machines, the wires, and a potential needle encounter. He looked nervous at first, the rosy pink fading from his cheeks as his brown eyes widened. Will, however, came to the rescue when he told Liam they would actually be testing him for superpowers. Liam practically bounced in his chair with excitement. 

We stayed by his side for every test we could, holding his hand and telling him how brave he was. He never cried, never flinched, and never lost his smile. A bittersweet concoction of pride and fear sworled in my stomach and lumped in my throat. 

And poured out of me when we got the results. 

A tumor.

I fell to my knees, holding the back of my hand to my mouth to keep myself from vomiting on the gray linoleum. Will crouched next to me and rubbed my back in small circles until I recovered enough to stand. The room swayed, but I managed to get in the chair across from the doctor’s desk. Liam was in a smaller waiting room, specially designed for children while their parents received life-altering, soul-shattering news in the next room. I could hear Liam’s voice next door as he talked to one of the nurses, no doubt telling her that they just finished testing him for superpowers. 

I looked at the doctor through my tears, waiting for him to tell us next steps. But, he was already talking. I couldn’t hear him through the roaring in my head. I squeezed Will’s hand, knowing he was taking this one. A small surge of love broke through my whirlwind of terror and sorrow. Will is my steady ship against the raging sea, all white sails and sturdy wood. Who knows where I would’ve been without him?

The doctor stood after a short while, giving us the room. My brain somewhat calmed, but I still felt every bit of emotion as I slowly turned my head to face my husband. 

“We caught it early,” he says, wiping a tear from my face. “He says brain tumors are inherently dangerous, but this is the best possible situation for us to be in.”

I nodded, slightly relieved. Liam’s voice still carried over from next door, and I made a silent vow to myself to do everything in my power to hear that voice grow deeper, to watch his tiny body grow taller and stronger, and to see my son with gray hair one day.

Over the next few weeks, Liam went to chemo appointments, oncologist appointments, and nutritionist appointments, all under the guise of potentially having superpowers. Will and I powered through the best we could, but cancer took its toll on Liam and us. We fought a lot, both of us on edge constantly. Liam was the only thing occupying our minds, not leaving any space for each other. I cried myself to sleep every night, but I wouldn’t let Will comfort me. I built walls in my mind and around myself, the only opening being Liam and his health. By week four, we were shells of ourselves. 

We put on brave smiles for Liam, trying our hardest to make sure he didn’t know what was happening. By some miracle, he was okay with us shaving his head. He never looked in the mirror much, anyway, being a boy who’s only interest was Spider-Man and chicken nuggets. He grew weak, staying inside and playing with his Legos or watching Paw Patrol instead of playing outside. 

It was worth it. 

After forty-eight days of hell, we broke through. Liam was in remission. For the second time, I fell to my knees in the doctor’s office. I cried again, too, but for the pure euphoria coursing through my veins. I never understood the idea of feeling like a weight lifted off someone’s shoulders, but I understood in that moment. All of the broken pieces of my heart and mind melded together once again, and I felt happiness for the first time in months. 

The celebration lasted for days. Liam was, of course, upset that he didn’t have superpowers, but he didn’t complain much when we went as a family for ice cream every night. He didn’t even remember why he was upset when he got to eat chicken nuggets at every lunch. 

This was how it was meant to be. Will and I came back together fiercely, somehow stronger than ever before. And it was only a matter of time before I told my boys that we’d be adding another member to our family. 

An alarm clock sounds through a dream I was having. I slowly open my eyes and rub them awake. I punch the snooze button, eager to go back to sleep, but I see my lamp.

My lamp.

My bed, my sheets, my room. 

My boyfriend, Will, is asleep next to me.

Not my husband. 

Not my life.

It was just a dream.