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Description
As part of an ongoing effort to polish my story to something resembling a finished product, I'm creating new and reworked illustrations in a consistent art style using soluble ink on bristol. This one is not a remake, but a brand new illustration.
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Searching For Life

Now that I think of it, shouldn’t Alex and the others be back by now? I mean, how long does it take to clear the intake? I hope they weren’t stupid enough to wander off and go looking for the shuttle. What’d they expect to do with it when they find it, hmm? I want to go home as much as the next guy, but not enough to take suicidal risks like that.

Not that they’d do that. They’re smart people. Just a little stir-crazy, that’s all. Nemo, not content to just sit there and exist, had to jump at any opportunity to stretch his legs. Caroline, always sticking to him like cling film, had to come with him. Alex, he’s been depressed, lethargic, sleeping all the time. Tried to cheer him up with some card games, didn’t work. He’s out there in the hopes that some exercise will snap him out of his funk. And whose idea was that? Mine. This isn’t a three person job. I could have done it myself in an hour.

- Grant Irwin

Well, they’re not within a thirty foot radius of our rabbit hole. Beyond that? I can’t say, because thirty feet was all we could get from gathering all our ropes and tying them end to end. Nobody dares step outside without a lifeline. The last people to do that are currently freezing to death in this wrathful weather. Just how much air did they bring with them, again?

- Alexander “Os” Ostrovsky

It took considerable effort to hold myself upright against the fearsome winds. And the cold! It was bitter beyond belief. The day Caroline and Nemo rescued us from the whiteout, that was nothing compared to this. Was it really four weeks ago? That’s four precious weeks they bought us. I owe them the world for that.

I had to keep looking, but a tug on the line told me it was time to come back down. I found Grant crouched in the air handler access tunnel, the length of rope coiled around his wrist. His eyes, usually bright and beady, were bloodshot. The beam of my flashlight cut grooves in his forehead. He looked wretched.

He rubbed his eyes and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your search. I was only checking if you were still there on the other end. Worrying over nothing, really. I just don’t like that you’re out there alone. Makes me nervous.”

There’s no reason he shouldn’t have some peace of mind when it’s so hard to come by these days. So I took his end of the rope and handed it over to Os, tossed Grant his goggles, and gave him a nod. He took my hand in a death grip and together we stepped into the cold, thin air.

- Erin Carellos

Description
As part of an ongoing effort to polish my story to something resembling a finished product, I'm creating new and reworked illustrations in a consistent art style using soluble ink on bristol. This one is not a remake, but a brand new illustration.
___________________________________
Searching For Life

Now that I think of it, shouldn’t Alex and the others be back by now? I mean, how long does it take to clear the intake? I hope they weren’t stupid enough to wander off and go looking for the shuttle. What’d they expect to do with it when they find it, hmm? I want to go home as much as the next guy, but not enough to take suicidal risks like that.

Not that they’d do that. They’re smart people. Just a little stir-crazy, that’s all. Nemo, not content to just sit there and exist, had to jump at any opportunity to stretch his legs. Caroline, always sticking to him like cling film, had to come with him. Alex, he’s been depressed, lethargic, sleeping all the time. Tried to cheer him up with some card games, didn’t work. He’s out there in the hopes that some exercise will snap him out of his funk. And whose idea was that? Mine. This isn’t a three person job. I could have done it myself in an hour.

- Grant Irwin

Well, they’re not within a thirty foot radius of our rabbit hole. Beyond that? I can’t say, because thirty feet was all we could get from gathering all our ropes and tying them end to end. Nobody dares step outside without a lifeline. The last people to do that are currently freezing to death in this wrathful weather. Just how much air did they bring with them, again?

- Alexander “Os” Ostrovsky

It took considerable effort to hold myself upright against the fearsome winds. And the cold! It was bitter beyond belief. The day Caroline and Nemo rescued us from the whiteout, that was nothing compared to this. Was it really four weeks ago? That’s four precious weeks they bought us. I owe them the world for that.

I had to keep looking, but a tug on the line told me it was time to come back down. I found Grant crouched in the air handler access tunnel, the length of rope coiled around his wrist. His eyes, usually bright and beady, were bloodshot. The beam of my flashlight cut grooves in his forehead. He looked wretched.

He rubbed his eyes and said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your search. I was only checking if you were still there on the other end. Worrying over nothing, really. I just don’t like that you’re out there alone. Makes me nervous.”

There’s no reason he shouldn’t have some peace of mind when it’s so hard to come by these days. So I took his end of the rope and handed it over to Os, tossed Grant his goggles, and gave him a nod. He took my hand in a death grip and together we stepped into the cold, thin air.

- Erin Carellos