Arena Two

We continue in silence, the white water churning beneath us, and I wonder how much longer we can go on. What will we do when our fuel runs out?

In the distance, I spot something on the horizon. It looks like some sort of structure, in the water. At first I wonder if I am seeing things, but then Logan cranes his neck, alert, and I realize he must see it, too.

“I think it’s a bridge,” he says. “A downed bridge.”

I realize he’s right. Growing ever closer is a towering hunk of twisted metal, sticking up out of the water like some sort of monument to hell. I remember this bridge: it once beautifully spanned the river; now, it’s a huge heap of scrap metal, plunging at jagged angles down into the water.

Logan slows the boat, the engine quieting as we get closer. Our speed drops and the boat rocks wildly. The jagged metal protrudes from every direction, and Logan navigates, turning the boat left and right, creating his own little pathway. I look up as we go at the bridge’s remains, looming over us. It looks like it rises hundreds of feet high, a testament to what humanity was once able to do before we started killing each other.

“The Tappan Zee,” I remark. “We’re about an hour north of the city. We’ve got a good jump on them, if they’re coming after us.”

“They are coming after us,” he said. “You can bet on it.”

I look at him. “How can you be so sure?”

“I know them. They never forget.”

As we pass the last scrap of metal, Logan picks up speed and I lean back as we accelerate.

“How far behind us do you think they are?” I ask.

He looks at the horizon, stoic. Finally, he shrugs.

“Hard to say. Depends how long it takes to rally the troops. Snow’s heavy, which is good for us. Maybe three hours? Maybe six, if we’re lucky? Good thing is, this baby’s fast. I think we can outrun them, as long as we have fuel.”

“But we don’t,” I say, pointing out the obvious. “We left with a full tank – now we’re half empty. We’ll be empty in just a few hours. Canada’s a long way away. How do you propose we find fuel?”

Logan stares at the water, thinking.

“We have no choice,” he says. “We have to find it. There’s no alternative. We can’t stop.”

“We’re going to need to rest at some point,” I say. “We’re going to need food, and some sort of shelter. We can’t stay out in this temperature all day and all night.”

“Better to starve and freeze than be caught by slaverunners,” he says.

I think of dad’s house, farther upriver. We’re going to pass right by it. I remember my vow to my old dog, Sasha, to bury her. I also think of all the food up there, in that stone cottage – we can salvage it, and it would sustain us for days. I think of all the tools in dad’s garage, all the things we can make use of. Not to mention the extra clothes, blankets and matches.

“I want to make a stop.”

Logan turns and looks at me as if I’m crazy. I can see that he doesn’t like this.

“What are you talking about?”

“My dad’s house. In Catskill. About an hour north of here. I want to stop there. There are a lot of things we can salvage. Things we’ll need. Like food. And,” I pause, “I want to bury my dog.”

“Bury your dog?” he asks, his voice rising. “Are you crazy? You want to get us all killed for that?”

“I promised her,” I say.

“Promised?” he shoots back. “Your dog? Your dead dog? You’ve got to be kidding.”

I stare him down, and he realizes pretty quickly that I’m not.

“If I promise something, I deliver. I’d bury you if I promised.”

He shakes his head.

“Listen,” I say firmly. “You wanted Canada. We could have gone anywhere. That was your dream. Not mine. Who knows it this town even exists? I’m following you on a whim. And this boat’s not just yours. All I want is to stop at my dad’s place. Get some stuff, which we need, and put my dog to rest. It won’t take long. We’ve got a big jump on the slaverunners. Not to mention, we have a small canister of fuel up there. It’s not much, but it will help.”

Logan slowly shakes his head.

“I’d rather not have that fuel and not take such a risk. You’re talking about the mountains. You’re talking about twenty miles inland, right? How do you propose we get there once we dock? Hike?”

“I know where there’s an old truck. A beat-up pickup. It’s just a rusted shell, but it runs, and it’s got just enough fuel to get us there and back. It’s hidden, by the river line. The river will take us right to it. The truck will take us up and back. It will be quick. And then we can continue on our long trip to Canada. And we’ll be better for it.”

Logan stares silently at the water for a long time, his fists clenched tight around the wheel.

Finally, he says, “Whatever. It’s your life to risk. But I’m staying with the boat. You’ve got two hours. If you’re not back in time, I’m taking off.”

I turn away from him and look out at the water, fuming mad. I wanted him to come. I feel like he’s looking out for himself, and it disappoints me. I thought he was better than that.

“So you only care about yourself, is that it?” I ask.

It also worries me that he doesn’t want to accompany me to my dad’s house; I hadn’t thought of that. I know Ben won’t want to come and I would’ve appreciated some backup. Whatever. I’m still resolved. I made a promise, and I will keep it. With or without him.

He doesn’t respond, and I can tell he’s annoyed.

I look out at the water, not wanting to see him. As the water churns amidst the constant whine of the engine, I realize I’m mad not only because I’m disappointed in him, but because I was actually starting to like him, to count on him. I haven’t depended on anyone for a long time. It’s a scary feeling, depending on someone again, and I feel betrayed.

“Brooke?”

My heart lifts at the sounds of the familiar voice, and I turn to see my little sister awake. Rose wakes, too. Those two are already like peas in a pod, like extensions of one person.

I still can hardly believe that Bree is here, back with me. It’s like a dream. When she was taken, a part of me was sure I’d never see her alive again. Every moment I am with her, I feel like I’ve been given a second chance, and I feel more determined than ever to watch over her.

“I’m hungry,” Bree says, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands.

Penelope sits up, too, in Bree’s lap. She won’t stop trembling, and she raises her good eye and looks at me, as if she’s hungry, too.

“I’m freezing,” Rose echoes, rubbing her shoulders. She wears only a thin shirt, and I feel terrible for her.

I understand. I’m starving and freezing, too. My nose is red and I can barely feel it. Those goodies we found in the boat were amazing, but hardly filling – especially on an empty stomach. And that was hours ago. I think again of the food chest, of what little we have left, and wonder how long until it runs out. I know I should ration the food. But then again, we’re all starving, and I can’t stand to see Bree looking like that.

“There’s not much food left,” I tell her, “but I can give you guys a little bit of it now. We have some cookies, and some crackers.”

“Cookies!” they both yell at once. Penelope barks.

“I wouldn’t do that,” comes Logan’s voice beside me.