The Ark

I pulled against him, and he was obliged to step backward. “We’re leaving. We’re leaving, Isaiah.”

Abel nodded at me, and I put my full weight into dragging Isaiah off the porch. “Come on. There’s a step down here.”

Isaiah stumbled, and for a moment, he allowed me to lead him. But halfway off the stoop, he stopped. I tugged harder, not caring that he could stumble. Everyone had a gun these days, but Abel was ready to use his. I could almost have understood him, at the time. He wanted to protect his family for as long as he could.

It was a few seconds before I realized that Isaiah wasn’t moving any more, no matter how hard I tried. He might as well have been an oak tree, for all the good it did me to pull on him like that. Another moment passed, and I gave up struggling.

I looked at Abel, wide-eyed. There would be no consequences for shooting us. We’d just done the same to Cassa, after all.

I kept a hand on Isaiah’s arm, so he’d know I hadn’t left him, but it fell to my side when he uttered his next words.

“I found the Remnant.”

Abel snorted. “You’re too old for this. I’m too old for this.”

“He did,” I blurted out before thinking. “He found them.”

Some small muscle twitched in Isaiah’s neck, but he stayed steady. Abel looked at me, unconvinced, and I summoned every ounce of steel I had. I could not afford to flinch. “You knew he would.”

“That’s just some story people tell.”

“They’re real, Abe. It’s gonna be a whole new setup up there. Let me see Mom, and I’ll take you with me.”

“What about Mom? You’ll take her, too?”

Isaiah hesitated. “It doesn’t work like that. Just you and me.”

That was smart. If he’d promised to take everyone, Abel would never have believed the lie. Isaiah was back to form.

Abel glanced at me. “And the girl?”

I gave him a convincing smile. “Obviously. Why do you think I’m with him?”

His doubts were smattered across his face, but the Remnant was more than anyone could resist. The gun disappeared behind his back. His face remained tense. “I’m warning you, Ise. I’m done with your games. You play me, you’ll regret it. It’s not too late to make you regret it.”

Isaiah’s shoulders relaxed. I allowed myself a breath.

That was when the impossibility of my situation hit me. Something slippery swirled in my stomach, and I felt sick. I couldn’t stay with Isaiah and his family, or I’d miss the OPT. But I couldn’t leave, either, because Abel would know we were lying, and Isaiah would pay for it.

I told myself that I didn’t have a choice, that it was his decision to come here. But deep down, I didn’t know if I had what it took to walk away.

For now, at least, I still had time before I had to act, time to find the smart move. I could play this out. I willed the slippery thing to hold still for a little longer.

I squared my shoulders, and noticed Isaiah doing the same. “You can keep the gun out, Abe,” he said. “I’ve gotta get something from the car.”

“Like hell you do.”

“Like I said. Keep the gun out if you like. That way, we understand each other.”

“Maybe we don’t.”

But Isaiah was already halfway to the car. I shrugged at Abel, pretending not to understand the warning in his voice, and casually placed myself between Isaiah and the gun.

Isaiah popped the trunk a moment later. As I expected, he came out with Meghan’s rifle. What I didn’t expect was where he aimed it.

At me.

“Step aside, Abe. I’m a fair shot, most of the time, but I’m not as sure as I used to be.”

I floundered, trying to figure out the play here, and felt the slippery thing in my belly harden into stone. Surely Isaiah would never tell Abel about my starpass. Surely.

“No.” The word escaped my lips before I thought it. “Isaiah. Don’t do this.”

“I can take one person with me, little bird. And it’s not you.”

I shook my head, confused. I glanced back at Abel in time to see him pull his gun again.

“I got her,” he said.

“No need,” said Isaiah. “Get in the car, Char. Drive away. I’m only gonna say it once.”

It was the way he said my name that finally tipped me off to his plan. He had never called me Char. It was an act.

Abel spoke. “We don’t have to kill you unless you get stubborn. So you better start moving.”

I stole one final glance at Isaiah before I started running.

He almost seemed to return my gaze. “Thanks for the ride, sweetheart.”

Another phony name. It was the perfect move. He was saving both of us, in a way I never could. So it made no sense to me, in that moment, that my heart was breaking.

I shut the door and powered on the car like a robot.

It wasn’t until I turned the corner, never to see him again, that I realized we never said goodbye.

Seven (#ulink_b9dc4847-d407-5a3b-9c35-d941696e4549)

I made it to Calais, Maine, in record time, not that I knew much about what constituted regular time. Maine wasn’t the type of place where girls like me tended to take road trips. Every so often, I’d think about how much time I had left, before the gate closed, and the blood would pull away from the tips of my fingers, leaving them slightly blue.

Whenever I passed a town, or a deserted shopping mall, I tried to fit it in my head that in a few hours, they wouldn’t exist anymore. They’d be gone. Space debris.

I couldn’t picture it, no matter how hard I tried. There were no cars on the road, and most of the cops were up in space already, so I pretty much floored it the whole way. As soon as I got to Calais, however, traffic materialized out of nowhere, and I screeched to a stop. I was still seventy-five miles from the launch site in Saint John.

It took me a good ten minutes to realize that traffic was going nowhere. Everyone on this side of the continent wanted to be in Saint John right now, including me. A lot of people, like Meghan, had chosen to spend their remaining hours in the comfort of their home. People who had no shot at getting on board, due to age or disability. But a lot of people would try to get on the OPT at the last minute, whether or not they had a ticket. People like me. And the OPT wouldn’t let them, and their cars would stay in the road, and I would never get there.

I needed a plan B. I jerked the wheel to the right and steered the car through the shoulder and toward the nearest exit ramp, which was also blocked. “Car!” I shouted, activating the system.

“Good afternoon.” The reply was cold, even for a robot.