Arena Two

I look over, and see him glancing back disapprovingly.

“We need to ration it.”

“Please!” Bree cries out. “I need something. I’m starving.”

“I need to give them something,” I say firmly back to Logan, understanding where his head is, but annoyed at his lack of compassion. “I’m doling out one cookie each. For all of us.”

“What about Penelope?” Rose asks.

“The dog’s not getting any of our food,” Logan snaps. “She’s on her own.”

I feel another twinge of upset at Logan, though I know he’s being rational. Still, as I see the crestfallen look on Rose and Bree’s faces, and as I hear her bark again, I can’t bear to let her starve. I quietly resign to give her some food from my own rations.

I open the chest, and survey once again our stash of food. I see two boxes of cookies, three boxes of crackers, several bags of gummy bears, and a half dozen chocolate bars. I wish there was some more substantial food, and I don’t know how we’re going to make this last, how this will suffice for three meals a day for five people.

I pull out the cookies and dole out one to each person. Ben finally snaps out of it at the site of the food, and accepts a cookie. His eyes have black circles under them, and he looks as if he hasn’t slept. It is painful to see his expression, so devastated from the loss of his brother, and I look away as I hand him his cookie.

I come to the front of the boat, and hand Logan his. He takes it and silently puts into his pocket, of course, rationing it for later. I don’t know where he gets his strength 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.