from. Myself, I go weak at the smell of the chocolate chip cookie. I know I should ration it, too, but I can’t help it. I take a small bite, resolving to put it away – but it tastes so good, I can’t help myself – I devour the entire thing, saving only the last bite, which I set aside for Penelope.
The food feels so good. The sugar rushes to my head, then through my body, and I wish I had a dozen more. I take a deep breath at the stomach pain, trying to control myself.
The river narrows, the shores becoming ever closer to each other, as it twists and turns. We’re close to land and I’m on high alert, looking to the shorelines for any sign of danger. As we round a bend I look to my left and see, high up on a cliff, the ruins of an old fortification, now bombed out. I am shocked as I realize what it once was.
“West Point,” Logan says. He must realize at the same time as I do.
It is shocking to see this bastion of American strength now just a pile of rubble, its twisted flagpole hanging limply over the Hudson. Hardly anything remains of what once was.
“What is that?” Bree asks, her teeth chattering. She and Rose have climbed to the front of the boat, beside me, and she looks out, following my gaze. I don’t want to tell her.
“It’s nothing sweetie,” I say. “Just a ruin.”
I put my arm around her and pull her close, and put my other arm around Rose and pull her close, too. I tried to warm them up, rubbing their shoulders as best I can.
“When are we going home?” Rose asks.
Logan and I exchange a look. I hardly know how to answer.
“We’re not going home,” I say to Rose, as gently as I can, “but we’re on our way to find a new home.”
“Are we going to pass by our old home?” Bree asks.
I hesitate. “Yes,” I say.
“But we’re not going back there, right?” she asks.
“Right,” I say. “It’s too dangerous to live there now.”
“I don’t want to live there again,” she says. “I hated that place. But we can’t just leave Sasha there. Are we going stop and bury her? You promised.”
I think back to my argument with Logan.
“You’re right,” I say softly. “I did promise. And yes, we will stop.”
Logan turns away, clearly miffed.
“And then what?” Rose asks. “And then where will we go?”
“We’re going to keep going upriver,” I explain. “As far as it will take us.”
“Where does it end?” she asks.
It’s a good question, and I take it as a much more profound question. Where does all of this end? With our deaths? With our survival? Will it ever end? Is there any end in sight?
I don’t have the answer.
I turn, and kneel, and look into her eyes. I need to give her hope. Something to live for.
“It ends in a beautiful place,” I say. “Where we’re going, everything is good again. The streets are so clean that they shine, and everything is perfect and safe. There will be people there, friendly people, and they will take us in and protect us. There will be food, too, real food, all you can eat, all the time. It will be the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen.”
Rose’s eyes open wide.
“Is that true?” she asks.
I nod. Slowly, she breaks into a wide smile.
“How long until we make it there?”
I smile. “I don’t know sweetheart.”
Bree, though, is more cynical than Rose.
“Is that really true?” she asks, softly. “Is there really such a place?”
“It is,” I say to her, trying my best to sound convincing. “Isn’t that true, Logan?”
Logan looks over, nods at them briefly, then looks away. He is the one, after all, that believes in Canada, believes in a promised land. How can he deny it now?
The Hudson twists and turns, getting more narrow, then widening again. Finally, we enter familiar territory. We race past places I recognize, getting closer and closer to dad’s house.
We turn another bank, and I see a small, uninhabited island, just a rocky outcropping. On it sits the remains of a lighthouse, its light long shattered, its structure hardly more than a façade.
We turn another bend in the river and in the distance I spot the bridge I’d been on just days before, when chasing after the slaverunners. There, in the middle of the bridge, I see the center blown out, the huge hole, as if a wrecking ball had been dropped through the middle. I flash back to when Ben and I raced across it in the motorcycle and nearly skidded into it. I can’t believe it. We’re almost there.
This makes me think of Ben, makes me remember how he saved my life that day. I turn and look at him. He stares into the water, morose.
“Ben?” I ask.
He turns and looks at me.
“Remember that bridge?”
He turns and looks, and I see fear in his eyes. He remembers.
Bree elbows me. “Is it okay if I give Penelope some of my cookie?” she asks.
“Me, too?” Rose echoes.
“Sure it is,” I say loudly, so Logan can hear. He’s not the only one in charge here, and we can do with our food as we wish.
The dog, in Rose’s lap, perks up, as if she understands. It is incredible. I have never seen such a smart animal.
Bree leans in to feed her a piece of her cookie, but I stop her hand.
“Wait,” I say. “If you’re going to feed her, she should have a name, shouldn’t she?”
“But she has no collar,” Rose says. “Her name could be anything.”
“She’s your dog now,” I say. “Give her a new one.”
Rose and Bree exchange an excited glance.
“What should we call her?” Bree asks.
“How about Penelope?” Rose says.
“Penelope!” Bree screams. “I like that.”
“I like it, too,” I say.
“Penelope!” Rose cries out to the dog.
Amazingly, the dog actually turns to her when she says it, as if that were always her name.
Bree smiles as she reaches out and feeds her a piece of cookie. Penelope snatches it out of her hands and gobbles it up in one bite. Bree and Rose giggle
