by Morgan Rice
I wake to blinding sunlight. It is as if the world is alive again. Sunlight streams in through the windows all around me, brighter than I’ve ever seen, bouncing off of everything. The wind has stopped. The storm is over. Snow melts off the window ledge, the sound of dripping water echoing all around me. There is a cracking noise, and a huge icicle crashes down onto the floor.
I look around, disoriented, and realize I’m still lying on the floor, in the same place I was last night, Logan’s coat draped over me. I feel completely rejuvenated.
Suddenly, I remember, and sit up with a shock. Dawn. We had to get up at dawn. The site of the bright morning light suddenly terrifies me, as I look over and see Logan lying there, right beside me, eyes closed. He is fast asleep. My heart stops. We have overslept.
I scramble to my feet, feeling energetic for the first time, and roughly shake his shoulder.
“LOGAN!” I say urgently.
Immediately, his eyes open, and he jumps to his feet. He looks around, alert.
“It’s morning!” I plead. “The boat. We’re going to miss it!”
His eyes open wide in surprise as he realizes.
We both jump into action, sprinting for the door. My leg still hurts, but I am pleasantly surprised to realize I can actually run on it. I race down the metal staircase, footsteps echoing, right behind Logan. I grip the rusted metal railing, careful to pass over steps that are rotting away.
We reach the ground floor and burst out of the building, into the blinding light of snow. It is a winter wonderland. I wade into the snow, up to my thighs, and it slows my running, each step a struggle. But I follow Logan’s tracks, and he plows through, making it easier.
I see the water up ahead and realize we are only a block away. To my great relief I see the barge docked at the pier, and can barely see its loading ramp being lifted, as the last of a group of chained girls is led on board. It looks as if the boat is about to leave.
I run harder, trudging through the snow as fast as I can go. As we reach the pier, still about a hundred yards away from the boat, the ramp is removed. I hear the roar of an engine, and a huge cloud of black exhaust exits from the back of the barge. My heart is pounding.
As we near the end of the pier, I suddenly think of Ben, of our promise to each other—to meet at the pier at dawn. As I run, I scan left and right, looking for any sign of him. But there is nothing. My heart sinks, as I realize that can only mean one thing: he didn’t make it.
We close in on the barge, hardly thirty yards away, when suddenly it begins to move. My heart starts to pound. We’re so close. Not now. Not now!
We are only twenty yards away, but the boat has departed from the pier. It is already about ten feet out into the water.
I increase my speed and am now running beside Logan, fighting my way through the thick snow. The barge is now a good fifteen feet off shore, and moving fast. Just too far to jump.
But I continue to sprint, right up to the very edge, and as I do, I suddenly spot thick ropes, dangling from the boat to the pier, slowly dragging off the edge.
The ropes stretch behind it, like a long tail.
“THE ROPES!” I scream.
Logan apparently has the same idea. Neither of us slows—instead, we keep sprinting, and as I reach the end, without thinking, I aim for a rope and leap.
I go flying through the air, hoping, praying. If I miss, it would be a long fall, at least thirty feet, and I would land in icy cold water, with no way back up. The water is so cold and the tides so strong, I’m sure I would die within seconds of impact.
As I fly through the air, reaching for the thick, knotted rope, I wonder if this could be my last moment on earth.
T H I R T Y O N E
