Jamison

I WATCH AS DAPHNE, KELLY, AMY, AND Andrew help the kids pull on their backpacks in the darkness. Andrew is making sure the Kid is all set, pulling the straps tight and asking if it’s too heavy. The Kid shakes his head.

“God, I hate this,” Kelly mumbles to me. I can’t help feeling guilty. They shouldn’t have to leave this place, but Andrew and the others are right. They can’t be around when Fort Caroline gets here.

Andrew, Daphne, and Amy have also carefully warned a few other trusted people. Telling them to leave if it looks like the Key Colony is having issues with supplies. But they’ve held back from telling them the whole story, hoping they’ll be able to connect the dots tomorrow morning when rumors start flying about our disappearance.

As long as we make it out unnoticed, that is.

“Hey.” Rocky Horror makes me jump as he appears from out of the shadows next to me. “Everyone ready?”

“Where have you been?” Andrew asks.

“Double-checking our escape route.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.”

Amy joins us. Henri-Two is awake and babbling in her arms, refusing to let her mom put her in the sling. “And how does it look?”

“Complicated. But not impossible.”

I don’t like the sound of that. “Complicated how?”

“Andrew,” Daphne says, walking over to us, “do you have your water bottle?”

When he answers, he sounds annoyed. “Seriously? Yes.” She puts her hands up and retreats to the kids, but it also reminds me to reach back and feel the side of my own bag to make sure mine is there.

“The gate across the bridge on Route 1 was destroyed in the storm, so the intersection where it meets up with 905 is heavily guarded. We need to be especially careful around there. It’s a quiet night and there’s no reason to think they’re on high alert—”

“But they will be if they notice us missing,” Amy says.

Rocky Horror nods. “Exactly.”

“What’s going to happen if they catch us?” I ask. If they’re planning to turn me over, they won’t shoot me. But I don’t want the others getting hurt if they’re only looking out for me.

And I don’t want to say it out loud to anyone here, but if we have to run or figure out some other means of fast escape, the kids are going to slow us down.

“I say we worry about that bridge when it collapses, yes?” Rocky Horror says.

Andrew seems okay with that answer, but I’m not. When the others go back to Daphne, I pull him aside.

“They only want me,” I say. “Maybe we should split up and meet back with the others when it’s safe?”

“Okay, when will it be safe?” he asks.

I don’t know what to say, and he pounces on it.

“Exactly. We’re sticking together, Jamie.” He goes over to the others without another word. I could sneak away right now. They’re all distracted, getting the kids together. I could just run up the road. In the darkness, they wouldn’t be able to find me.

But even now I can’t leave Andrew. I clench my fists as the familiar wave of frustration comes back. Every time I think about Fort Caroline, and Danny Rosewood in particular, a pit of fire in my stomach tightens every muscle in my body. I picture Rosewood’s son Harvey and his friend Walt holding us at gunpoint by a river. And I play through the whole scene again, only Harvey’s friend Walt turns into Danny Rosewood halfway through. And this time I shoot him. Over and over. Then we’d never have to worry about Fort Caroline again.

“You ready?”

Andrew’s voice snaps me out of the fantasy.

“Yeah.” My voice sounds weak, and I feel a little clammy.

“You okay?” he asks, lowering his voice.

“Just anxious,” I lie. Because I am not okay. I’ve had dreams like that fantasy—nightmares. In each one I kill Danny Rosewood instead, and every time all I feel is relief. Unlike the guilt, anger, and disgust I felt when I shot his son.

Every time I see Danny Rosewood die, I feel better. Like I can breathe.

And sometimes that scares me.

“Let’s go,” I say before Andrew can ask me anything else. And I take his hand and join the others.

We see the guards’ flashlights before we even get to the intersection of Route 1 and 905. We extinguished our own lights a quarter mile back, and all of us are holding hands in the darkness. Every couple of minutes Daphne tells the kids to sound off and every time Andrew has to remind the Kid to say “here” since he won’t say his name.

“Okay,” Rocky Horror says quietly. “One last head count.”

Once we confirm everyone is here, Andrew takes my hand as Rocky Horror leads us off the road. Amy is all the way at the end of the line, holding Kelly’s hand and humming softly to Henri-Two, who is still fussing in her arms.

“We might have to wait for Henri-Two to fall asleep,” I say.

“She’s not that loud,” Rocky Horror says, leading the way through washed-up sand and around a fallen tree. The moon above us is the only light we have.

“If she gets any louder it’s going to be a problem,” I warn.

“You’re being louder than she is,” Andrew says. I glance back at him but remain silent.

Once we’re within earshot of the guards—their voices barely audible over the shhhhh of the ocean—we stop. Rocky Horror turns and puts a finger up to his lips. Daphne turns to the kids and reminds them of the fun game she taught them where they all try to be silent and whoever wins gets a piece of candy.

We don’t have candy for them, but all the kids put their fingers to their mouths, some of them smiling and probably thinking it really is just a game. But one look at the Kid and I know he doesn’t, and I feel like his anxiety is all my fault. And maybe it is.

I open my mouth to tell Andrew so he can reassure him, but he’s distracted by one of the younger girls, who is whispering something to him. So I nudge the Kid with my right hand to get his attention. He looks up at me, then my hand. I turn it over, offering it to him, and after a moment’s pause he takes it.

Rocky Horror continues, walking behind a Chevron station that has collapsed onto its empty gas pumps. He leads us to a quiet residential street a block off Route 1 and we walk quickly, quietly.

We’re far enough away that we can’t hear what the guards are talking about, but every so often we can hear their laughter drifting through the broken trees. Laughter is good; it means they aren’t on high alert yet.

Once their lights are a good ways behind us—and the residential street curves back toward Route 1—Rocky Horror turns and nods.

“Okay,” he whispers. “From here, it’s a straight shot up the Overseas Highway. But we need to move quick, because if they catch us there, the only place we can go is over the side into the ocean.”

“You’re so motivating,” Andrew deadpans. “I hope you coached Little League before the world ended.”

Rocky Horror nods. “I was the captain of an all-transmasc softball team.”

“Pun team name?” Andrew asks.

“No-Balls-All-Strikes.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“Ready?”

We turn onto Route 1 and start across the bridge.

It takes three very long, terrifying hours to cross. Every few minutes I look back, expecting to see headlights. But once there’s land on either side of us again, there still aren’t any cars.

“Maybe they didn’t notice we left yet,” Andrew says.

Cara sounds less convinced. “They think we wouldn’t leave. They’re looking for us on the Keys.”

She’s right. They probably think we’re hiding there or that we just went back to the motel or our houses. They won’t suspect we’re gone until they notice Amy and Rocky Horror are missing as well. Of course they’ll check the Keys first, starting with the places we frequent. Then someone will mention that maybe we left.

I turn back, but there are still no headlights.

It’s a few hours before we see another road. The kids are tired, complaining that they want to go home, and Daphne, Kelly, and Andrew try their best to calm them or to carry the ones who are especially tired.

“We need to find a way to transport them,” I tell Rocky Horror. “They can’t walk the whole way.”

He nods. “We’ll see what we can find.”

A little before dawn, we stop and take shelter in an open storefront. Andrew helps Daphne and Kelly get the kids set up, and they’re all passed out in seconds.

“Someone should keep watch,” Cara says. “So we know which way they go when they come looking.”

“I’ll take first watch,” I say.

“You sure?” Andrew asks quietly. “I can stay up.”

“I’ll be okay. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up in a couple hours, then you can take over.” He gives me a light peck on the cheek, then slips into his sleeping bag.

No one from the Keys comes by, and when Andrew wakes up a few hours later I’m able to get a bit of sleep myself before the kids get up and we’re back on the road again.

“Where are they?” Andrew asks Rocky Horror.

But it’s Amy who answers. “They’re probably getting things together. Making a plan and also turning it into a supply run.”

That sounds like about what I’d expect from the Committee.

“Maybe they’ll never come looking for you,” Kelly adds. “They could have too much to deal with right now.”

I nod, but I don’t believe it. If they need supplies and Fort Caroline’s help is contingent on turning me over, they’ll be looking for me.

I turn to Amy, who seems exhausted with Henri-Two sleeping in a sling across her chest. “Do you want me to hold her?”

She lets out a low groan. “I do, but I’m worried she’ll wake up if I jostle her. My back is killing me.” She rubs at her lower back while keeping a hand under the one-year-old. “I need us to stop somewhere we can find a store that still has strollers.”

I walk up to Andrew and nudge him playfully. “Gotta say, I preferred this part of Florida when I was dying of sepsis in a cart.”

“Ah, the good ol’ days.” He turns his attention to the Kid, who he swings by his hands in front of him as a stuffed hippo balances precariously on Andrew’s shoulder. “Hey, Kid, think Bobo wants a sidecar?”

“Uh-huh,” the Kid says as he jumps up and lets Andrew swing him.

“And what is a sidecar?”

“I unno.”

“Cool.”

I laugh and hold out my hands. “Want me to take over?”

“Yes. Thank you. Kid, I need a break, Jamie’s gonna throw your ass around a bit, ’kay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Without skipping a beat, the Kid lets go of Andrew’s hands and takes mine. I count him to three and he jumps as I swing him up and forward. Andrew takes the Kid’s hippo and puts him on my shoulder.

He looks tired, too. We’ve been on the road for three days now. I forgot how hard it is to travel for so long every day. Even taking breaks every three hours, it’s hard for the kids. They have to be carried if they get too tired. And if more than four can’t walk at once, we have to stop for the night.

Andrew says Daphne is struggling, too, but every time I look over at her she seems in good spirits. And she never seems to tire of corralling the kids. I glance back at her as I swing the Kid in my arms. She smiles at me as she listens intently to the boy next to her tell a story about one of the kids he used to play with in the Keys.

“Did Cara tell you where we’re hoping to stop tonight?” I ask Andrew.

“She said there’s an airfield up ahead.”

“I don’t suppose Rocky Horror knows how to fly a plane?”

“You don’t suppose correctly—I asked.”

“Maybe Daphne does.”

Andrew snorts. “Hey, Kid, you know how to fly a plane?”

“Uh-huh,” the Kid says as he jumps into a swing.

“Knew it. We’re saved.” Andrew doesn’t sound like himself. Maybe he’s just tired, but it sounds like more than that.

“You okay?”

“As okay as I can be.” I watch as he swallows hard and takes a deep breath. “I just never wanted to do this again. It wasn’t fun the first two times and it’s even less fun now. I miss the other kids, and Liz. The life we were building.”

I want to wrap my arms around him and give him a hug, but the Kid is too busy using my arms as a swing set.

“I know you do,” I say.