Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Waking Up

ZACH

When Aiden kissed me, I could hardly believe it. And wow. I’ve never been kissed with so much intensity and so much longing. Those powerful feelings almost scared me. I’ve wanted that since I first saw him stumble into Elk Springs, and here it is. But now what? What does this mean for us? Are we boyfriends? How do relationships work in a dangerous world when we’re on the run together?

Aiden’s affection continues throughout the evening with the occasional gentle touch, a small kiss on the cheek, and even the looks he gives me. But as the evening gets later, we don’t talk about the kiss and what it means. I want to, but I’m afraid to press the matter. Marcus still weighs on Aiden’s mind, and when I’ve pressed him before, it just pushed him away.

But since he kissed me, maybe things are different now. Maybe he’s ready to open up. Or perhaps the kiss meant nothing to him, and now he regrets it. It’s not hard to imagine with all the uncertainty in our lives. I’m so confused.

Later that evening, in the dormitory, Jo comes in with the battery jump starter. True to her word, she gives it to us in exchange for our help. I have a slight pang of guilt that maybe it’s not a fair trade, but it’s what Jo truly wants. We spend the evening organizing our backpacks. Jo also restocks some of our supplies. I try to turn her down, but she insists.

The following day, we head out at first light. Jo travels with us for the first part of the journey. She says it would be too hard to explain where the car is. We all head out of the park and down a wooded gravel trail for about a mile. We then meet up with a two-lane road and turn left on that. After a while, we reach a small bridge spanning a dried-out stream.

Jo takes a turn off the road and goes down the embankment. Underneath the bridge, sitting in the middle of the dry stream bed is an old Toyota Corolla. From the body style, I’d guess it’s from the mid-2000s.

Jo takes a set of keys out of her pocket and throws them at Aiden. “Hey, whenever you get done doing whatever it is you guys need to do, come visit me again some time, will you?”

“We will.” I run over and give Jo a big hug. She’s a little shocked initially but warms up to the hug and grins from ear to ear. Aiden joins in.

“I can’t even begin to thank you enough, Jo. You’re a good person,” Aiden says.

Jo blushes a bit. “Okay, gotta run before this gets too gushy.”

“Can we give you a ride back to the park?” I ask.

“Nah, I’ll enjoy the walk. Plus, it wouldn’t be safe for you guys. Make sure you stay off the freeways and main highways.”

“We will,” Aiden says with a nod.

And with that, Jo heads back up the embankment and disappears out of sight.

*

AIDEN

As expected, the car battery is dead. But we hook up the jump starter to the battery terminals, and immediately, the dashboard in the car comes to life with LED lights and little electronic dings. I press the starter, and the motor turns over. But it doesn’t start.

“Give it a moment to juice up,” Zach says.

I wait for about a minute and try again. I press the ignition button, and this time, the little engine comes to life, purring like a kitten.

We both cheer and exchange a hug, grinning.

The car has around three-quarters of a tank of gas left. These Corollas sip gas, too, so it’s entirely possible this could get us all the way to Seattle.

But the best feature of the car by far? The tape player in the dash. I’ve held on to my mixtape this whole time. I pop it in, and the base starts pumping.

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger…

Zach looks at me with a broad grin. “Nice. I love Daft Punk.”

Of course, he does. Zach is awesome.

“This is my own mix. I made it,” I say.

“Really.” Zach’s eyes are wide.

“Yeah, I used to be a DJ.”

“DJs are so sexy.”

“Stop it. Now you’re just teasing.” I wave off Zach’s comment.

“No really. I always loved seeing them up in their booth, so completely into what they were doing. All mysterious and aloof. And super sexy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get going.”

I carefully drive the car along the creek bed until we reach a dirt road. That quickly meets up with the paved road, and we’re on our way.

Consulting the map, we take a lot of roundabout ways to avoid the main highways, heeding Jo’s advice. Despite that, we’re making great time.

We don’t speak a lot as we cruise along. And the farther we get from Cedar Grove, the more the real world weighs on me. We still haven’t talked about that kiss, and I’m regretting it more and more as the pressing need to set off on my own dominates my mind. It seems Zach can sense that something is up. He keeps sending pensive glances my way.

Abandoned cars are showing up along the side of the road again. Now that we have the battery jumper, little is stopping me from finding my own car and turning Zach lose. But how am I going to break it to him? The second he sees me messing with another car, he’ll be on to me. Then we’ll be in a huge discussion about it. He’s got to understand why I have to do this, and if he can’t, then so be it. My mission is that important. But I ache from the worry. I’ll wait a bit longer.

Soon, the outskirts of Spokane spread out to the south. We steer well clear of the city, but we still pass by a few buildings. Once we get past Spokane, the going is even faster. Soon the trees disappear, and the land flattens out. Eastern Washington has miles of farmland. The highways go in straight lines for fifty miles at a time because there’s no reason they need to turn.

The silence is thick, and Zach looks gloomier by the minute.

“Hey, let’s play a driving game,” I say.

“Okay, like what?”

“It’s called ‘how far away is that?’”

“Wow, sounds riveting,” Zach deadpans.

“It’s fun, honestly. And you can only play on super flat roads like this, so it’s a special game. We spot a point on the horizon, and we both guess how far away it is.”

“Pretty much what I expected. Riveting.”

“Hey. It’s more fun than it sounds. Okay, I’ll pick a spot, and we both guess. See that windmill up there? How far?”

Zach sizes up the target. “Uhhh…one and a half miles.”

“No way. That’s more like two and a half.”

“Well, let’s see. Speed this car up.” Zach slaps the dash.

I reset the trip odometer, and we both watch tenths of miles tick away. By the time it reads 1.0, we still have a way to go.

1.3 miles.

1.5 miles and still not there.

1.6 miles.

Zach cries out. “Lame. Is this Price Is Right rules? Like, no underbidding?”

“No, just straight-up the nearest guess wins.”

“Okay, I’m still in it.” Zach rubs his hands together.

The odometer is at 2.0, and the windmill is rapidly approaching.

“Come on, windmill. Get here.” He shakes his fists.

Just before we pass it, the odometer ticks to 2.1 miles, and Zach lets out a big groan. “Fine, you win. I want a rematch.”

I laugh. “See? It’s fun.”

“Shush. Rematch.”

We keep playing that for a while. It kills time and takes the tension out of the air. It works so well that we’re driving up to the Columbia River before I know it.

The road we’re on comes right up to the massive gorge. We’re on the edge of a high desert plateau that drops a thousand feet to the vast Columbia River. The land is barren, without a tree to be seen for miles. Only sagebrush and rocks dot the desolate landscape. The massive river runs through the middle of the gorge and is nearly a mile across. I pull the car over at a good vantage point, and we both get out. I walk over to the edge with binoculars from my backpack.

The river heads north and south for miles. Off to the south, a bridge spans it where Interstate 90 crosses. I’ve been worried about this part of our journey for a while. There are only a few ways to cross the Columbia River, and this is the primary route. If militia were guarding anywhere, this would be the spot to do it, at a choke point.

I focus the binoculars on the bridge, scanning the entire span. It looks clear. I don’t see any sign of people or cars. And then I spot it—the slightest bit of motion on the west bank near the bridge. A man dressed head to toe in combat gear, carrying an assault rifle, emerges from behind a large boulder. I scan the area and see camouflage netting. Behind it, there are several military vehicles.

I hang my head low. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The bridge is guarded. See for yourself. Look on the west bank.”

I hand the binoculars to Zach and point to where the men are.

“Yeah, that looks bad.” Zach nods. “Are they FLA?”

“I’m not sure. But it doesn’t matter. We want to avoid anybody with guns.”

“What are our other options?”

“The next closest bridge is nearly an hour’s drive south, and that would take us over a hundred miles out of our way. But I don’t see any other way.”

“Well, let’s get to it.” Zach has a determined look on his face.

We hop into the car and start driving. I have to backtrack a few miles to a road that heads south and doesn’t expose us. We continue south, avoiding highways and taking back roads. A few times, I have to drive on poorly maintained dirt roads, stressing the off-road capabilities of the Corolla. But the topography is not cooperating, and soon, we hit a massive ridge a few hundred feet high that blocks our progress. Our only option is to take a road that funnels us back to the main highway, running alongside the river.

Once we get there, my worst fears are confirmed. The ridge and the river form a natural pinch-point, and it’s swarming with guards.

Zach looks on in disgust. “What the heck do we do now?”

I consult the map. “We’ve got two options. Backtrack along this ridge for fifty miles or so, then go downriver until we find a bridge that isn’t guarded. We may have to go as far as Portland, where there are lots of crossings. Or follow the river north until we get to less populated areas. We may have to go all the way to Canada. Either way, we’re going hundreds of miles out of our way, and we’ll have to find some more gas.”

“What about a boat?”

“We can keep our eyes out for one, I guess. But that would mean ditching the car. And this damn river is over a mile wide, so we’d be exposed the whole time we cross it.”

Zach nods slowly, eyes downcast.

“It’s getting kinda late,” I say. “Let’s find a place to set up camp, and we’ll think about what we want to do tomorrow.”

Secretly, I worry that every bridge will be guarded, and taking the vials across is too risky. But there’s another option I’m not telling Zach. It’s the moment I’ve been dreading for days, but the time has come. About ten miles south of the I-90 bridge, the Wanapum Dam spans the river. Though there’s no way to drive across it, a person could walk across. But it’s dangerous. I’m sure it’s guarded, so getting across will require stealth and probably life-or-death choices.

This is a risk I’m willing to take for myself.

But I can’t take Zach.