by Morgan Rice
The rain is still pounding and we’re all completely soaked and shivering. But we need to keep going, plowing onward, putting as much distance between us and the crazies as possible.
The entire way I kept my eyes peeled for the crazies, for our old boat, for Emmanuel, desperate to save him. But to my horror and guilt, they were nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, a sound dawns on me, one that had been nudging at my consciousness and growing louder with each minute.
“Uh-oh,” Zeke says. “Looks like danger ahead.”
I huddle forward and peer at the map. He’s pointing to something. I read Niagara Falls.
“Oh,” I say, apprehensively.
That was the sound: rushing water, distant, yet growing closer.
It’s a testament to the dangers of the cities that the Commander and General Reece thought it would be safer to direct us via Niagara Falls than have us go by foot for any significant portion of the journey.
“What do we do?” Ryan asks.
“It’s the only way to get into Lake Erie,” I reply. “Toledo is on its west bank. We’ll just have to be careful.”
The tension is unbearable. Not only do we have poor weather and overcrowding to contend with, but now we have to maneuver past a waterfall. I feel Bree’s small, cold hand slip into mine.
“It will be okay,” I say. Then I look up at Ryan, who is steering the boat. “Won’t it?”
He nods grimly, his expression not exactly filling me with confidence.
“We don’t have much gas,” Ryan adds. “And we’ll need as much power as possible to counteract the force of the falls, to get us to shore before we go over.”
“Use it all if you have to,” I tell him. “We can sail the rest of the way. Just don’t let us go over.”
He turns back to the tiller___, his features transforming into complete concentration. I hold Bree close to me and whisper a silent prayer under my breath. She nuzzles her head into my chest and squeezes her eyes shut. Penelope sits in her lap, shivering from the rain.
The boat chugs along, churning up water as we go. Ryan steers us smoothly along, trying not to fight the power of the water while also using it to push us forward. I can hear the engine struggling in the choppy water, and then a new noise makes me even tenser. It’s the rising sound of the waterfall, of thousands of liters of water plummeting down a cliff face, crashing on the rocks. And we’re heading right toward it.
I grip the sides of the boat even tighter. Beside me, Molly is doing the same. Zeke has practically turned green. In complete contrast to the others, Ben sits serenely, his gaze locked on me. I can’t help but feel calmed by his presence. We’ve gone through so much together and are still standing; it’s almost like he’s a good-luck talisman. He nods as if to say, “We’ve got this. We’ve been through worse.” Despite my fear, I find myself smiling back at him.
The boat carries on forward and the sound of the waterfall grows even louder. The amount of water spray kicked up by the power of it is immense. It drenches us as much as the rain.
The sound and feel of the engine beneath me changes. I look over to Ryan and see that he’s giving the boat more power. And that means that the pull of the waterfall is starting to take effect. I can’t help but visualize our little boat being sucked into the stream and splintering to a thousand pieces on the rocks on the way down.
I catch my first glimpse of the waterfall’s edge. How strange to think of all the tourists who gathered here and took tour boats across the water. They will all be dead now, all those people whose lives consisted of day trips to beauty spots. They could never have imagined as they stood here looking at the breathtaking sight of nature at its finest that in a few hundred years our species would have almost entirely annihilated itself.
I push the thoughts from my mind and keep my gaze on the lip of the waterfall as we skim past it. I feel like every muscle in my body has tensed up and that I’ve turned to rock. I’ve never been at someone’s mercy like this. It’s almost unbearable. Usually when I’m in danger I know I can fight and get myself out of it. Now, I have nothing to do but hope and wish and pray we make it out the other side.
The end of the waterfall’s rim is just in sight.
And then a strange putt-putt-putt noise makes me frown. I look at Ryan. His expression instantly tells me it is bad news.
“The engine,” he says. “We’re running out of gas.”
As soon as he says it, the whirring of the propeller starts to slow. Instantly, the power of the waterfall can be felt beneath us. The boat starts to be pulled toward it by the force.
“ROW!” I scream. “EVERYONE! NOW!”
We grab the oars from beneath the seats and frantically begin rowing. My arms ache with the power of my movements. I grit my teeth with determination and put everything I’ve got into forcing the boat away from the waterfall’s edge. But despite all our strength, we continue to veer closer and closer to the rim.
There’s just five meters or so to push through before we clear the edge. The engine hasn’t died yet and Ryan’s able to keep it turning over, giving us just a fraction more power.
“Head for the shore!” I cry to Ryan.
With the combined efforts of all of us, and what little power we have left in the engine, we manage to just reach the shore.
I heave a sigh of relief, as do the others, all of us drenched.
The second we touch land, I leap off and extend my hand to Bree. She grabs it and I haul her up onto the solid land. I heave Charlie out next. Jack and Penelope leap up on their own, and Molly, Ben, and Zeke are able to heave themselves out of the boat and onto the land. Together we grab the ropes and hold on for dear life as Ryan makes the leap out and onto land.
“Now what?” Molly cries, fighting against the power of the boat.
“Now we pull the boat onto land,” I shout back.
She gives me a look like she’s less than thrilled, but she doesn’t argue. Zeke, Molly, Ben, Ryan, and I begin heaving with all our strength. After rowing for so long, my arm muscles scream in pain. But I keep pulling. Finally, we edge the boat out of the water and onto the strip of land.
I fall back, exhausted, aching, relieved. We’re still alive. I can hardly believe it.
“That was a close call,” I say to the gray, drizzly sky.
Ben’s face appears above me. “Come on,” he says, extending his hand to me.
I take it and let him pull me to my feet, overwhelmed once again by the mere sight of him. Ryan must notice the way I look at him because he shoots a glare my way. He’s probably thinking that he was the one who just saved all our lives, that he was the one who came with me in the first place, and yet here I am swooning over Ben, the boy who barely spoke to me for six months and let me head off alone. I know it’s not fair, but I don’t fully understand my feelings toward either of them.
Zeke pulls out the map the Commander gave us.
“We should walk the boat to Lake Erie,” he says. “There’s three more waterfalls to get past in this part of the lake. We won’t have enough gas to power past them all.”
He’s right. Once in Lake Erie, we’ll be able to sail all the way to Toledo, but we won’t have the strength to pass any more rapids.
Despite our complete exhaustion, no one is prepared to take a break, especially when we’re on land and completely exposed. We all feel much more comfortable on the water where the chances of crazy and slaverunner attacks are closer to nil. Plus, we’re nearing Buffalo, which was a densely populated city before the war. If there’s going to be any slaverunner activity in these parts, that’s where we’re likely to find it.
We trudge along the road, weary, shivering, soaked to the bone. A rest would be welcome around about now, but we have to keep going. Apart from the kids, we all take it in turns carrying the boat. It’s heavy, and what with our muscles already aching, it starts to really slow us down.
After an hour of walking, I’m completely spent. I stumble, my legs giving out beneath
me.
“We can’t stop here,” Zeke says. “Buffalo is just ahead.”
He nods toward the horizon, where a collection of skyscrapers and tall buildings make up the skyline. I drag myself to my feet and begin trudging along again. To make matters worse, my stomach feels completely hollow. We lost all of our provisions when the crazies stole our boat. We’re going to have to hunt sometime soon before we all collapse from exhaustion. But I keep telling myself “not yet.” Once we’ve made it past Buffalo and are back in the water, then I can start worrying about things like sleep and sustenance.
The city looms up ahead of us. I get an unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach. But it’s not the feeling that tells me danger lurks nearby, it’s a different feeling. It’s the feeling of death. Of ruin. The entire city is empty, deserted. A once bustling metropolis has been left to decay because of a pointless war that killed its inhabitants.
Night is starting to fall, making stark shadows across the streets, turning the houses into skeletons. I shiver and draw my arms across my chest for protection.
“Looks like there’s nothing to worry about here,” Zeke says.
The abandoned city is good news. It means no slaverunners. But it makes me think dark, depressing, hopeless thoughts, and that is definitely not good. The sooner we get out of Buffalo the better.
“This way to get to the water,” Zeke says, pointing to the dog-eared map.
“Here,” I say, going up to Ryan. “I’ll take the boat for the next stretch.”
He swaps out with me. Then Ben comes over and swaps out with Molly. For the first time, Ben and I are walking together. We don’t say a word, we’ve never had much need to. Without him having to utter a single syllable, I can tell that the gesture was a symbolic one, one that says he won’t leave me again, that we’ll be walking side by side forevermore. The thought comforts me.
We get to the lake’s edge and nudge the boat into the water.
I heave a sigh of relief, completely spent.
“Lake Erie,” Zeke announces, like some kind of tour guide, as we begin to clamber on board. “Three hundred twenty miles to Toledo.”
My legs shake from fatigue as I clamber aboard. The kids practically fall asleep the second they hit the deck.
“We’ll need to take this in turns then,” I say. “Get some sleep in shifts. Ryan, why don’t you sleep first since you steered us through Niagara Falls and all?”
I’m expecting to see his cocky smile at my quip but he just looks at me with pained, haunted eyes. It occurs to me that the last twenty-four hours have probably been the most traumatic in his life. He’s become a shell of himself. But he nods, accepting my urging.
“Just twenty minutes,” he says. “Then wake me up.”
I agree, though I have no intention of waking him for at least two hours. Zeke decides he’ll take the first sleeping shift as well. Then I turn to Molly.
“Do you want to sleep on the first shift too?” I ask.
She looks from me to Ben with a curious look in her eye. I can tell she doesn’t think it’s a great idea for me and Ben to be left alone together, and I wonder if it’s because she doesn’t yet trust him or because she is suspicious of there being something between us and feels loyalty to Ryan. Whatever it is, she finally agrees to sleep.
Everyone apart from Ben and me curls up on the floor of the boat, leaving the two of us to set the sails and steer out into the expanse of water.
We head southwest, keeping the banks in our sight line at all times.
I look over at Ben. He looks stunning in the dawn light.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him, speaking quietly so as not to wake anyone up. “I missed you.”
“We were only apart for a few hours,” he replies.
“That’s not what I mean.”
He looks down, embarrassed, as it dawns on him that I’m referring to our time in Fort Noix, and the way he cut me out of his life.
“Where did you go?” I ask him. “Why didn’t you speak to me for six months?”
He can hardly meet my eye. “I didn’t want you to know how weak I’d become.”
I frown. “And why would that matter to me? You’re my friend, Ben, I care for you no matter what.”
“That’s just it,” he replies. “I’m your friend. Your weak, sensitive friend. Rather than the sort of strong, confident guy who could one day become more than your friend.” His eyes skim over Ryan’s sleeping form.
“Are you telling me you ignored me for six months because you’re jealous of Ryan?” I’m almost too angry to speak.
“It’s not just Ryan,” Ben says. “It’s Logan too. The second we reached Fort Noix you never spoke of him again. Never even said his name. You were in love with him, weren’t you?” His eyes burn into me.
“I don’t know,” I say, squirming.
“Well, I do,” Ben says. “You were. And even after he died I still wasn’t good enough for you.”
“Ben,” I say, pained. It hurts to hear him talk like this, especially when it couldn’t be further from the truth. I do have feelings for Ben, I just don’t fully understand them.
“You have a type,” Ben adds. “Strong. Confident. Accomplished.”
“You’re all those things,” I reply, a little exasperated.
He just shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I know my place now, Brooke. Because you see, I tried to let you go and it didn’t work. I came running straight after you. My place is beside you. Whether you want me there or not.”
“I do want you there,” I say. “Always.”
Ben turns his face from me and looks out over the sparkling water. He doesn’t believe me and my heart deflates. I wish I was better with words, and that I could make him see how much it means to me that he’s here. But I don’t get the chance because Molly stirs.
“Brooke,” she whispers. “Why don’t I take this shift?”
It occurs to me then that she’s heard everything, that she hasn’t slept a wink. Like a good friend, she’s trying to protect me from my pain.
“Thanks,” I say. “I could do with the sleep.”
As we swap places, she squeezes my arm, as if to tell me that everything will be all right.
“Good night, Ben,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything back.
*
I’m woken by a jolt. I sit up sharply, and realize it’s morning. I must have slept all night. No one woke me to take another shift.
I drag myself to sitting and look around. The boat is lurching violently.
“What’s happening?” I shout.
Above me, Zeke, Molly, and Ryan are fighting with the sail.
“Storm!” Zeke shouts down.
I finally make it to my feet. The water is dark, churning violently. Waves several meters high rise up, dragging our little boat helplessly along with them. My stomach turns as we plummet down the side of a wave.
“I’m scared!” Bree cries.
I look back at her clutching the sides of the boat. She looks terrified, as does Charlie.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell them hurriedly. “We can handle it.”
I help the others with the ropes and sails. There’s very little we can do, though, other than sit it out. We’re at the mercy of the water and can only pray that it doesn’t capsize us.
The sensation is horrible, like being on a terrifying rollercoaster or an airplane in turbulence. Molly loses her footing and gets catapulted across the boat. Zeke grabs her just in time to stop her falling overboard.
“Everyone hold on tight!” I cry, reaching for my friends.
We huddle together, keeping vigilant of any danger as our little boat is buffeted by the waves and thrown around. Even though my stomach is empty, I still feel like I could throw up.
The dogs whimper as we lurch sideways. Bree begins to cry. For the first time I wonder if we made the right call taking the river route. If Buffalo was completely deserted, maybe all the big cities along the l
ake’s edge are deserted as well. But just as I’m thinking it, I catch sight of a city on the banks, and what I see chills me to my core.
“Zeke!” I cry as the boat bobs up and back down again. “Where are we?”
“Must be Cleveland,” he replies.
“Do you see it?” I shout to Ben, my eyes transfixed on the city that the lake seems to be pushing us toward.
“I see it,” he replies.
There, in the distance, looming up in the middle of bombed out buildings, is the unmistakable outline of an arena.
“We have to MOVE!” I cry. “There are slaverunners in that city. If they see us, we’re dead.”
I remember the powerful speedboats the slaverunners chased us with before. Our little boat will be nothing against them. If we’re spotted, we’ll be captured in a matter of minutes.
“There’s nothing we can do!” Ryan shouts back as the boat makes another huge push up, followed by a stomach-churning plummet down.
I know he’s right but I just can’t accept it. There must be something we can do to put a bit more distance between us and the city crawling with slaverunners. We seem to be forced closer to the banks. From here, I can even make out the sight of the bright yellow school buses that are used to transport young girls to the sex trade. We’re far too close for comfort.
“Is there any gas at all?” I cry to Molly, who’s sitting by the engine throttle.
She tries it, and to my relief, the engine sputters alive.
“There must be a tiny bit left,” Ryan says.
“Good. Then use it!”
He powers the boat forward, heading away from the coast and farther into the middle of the lake. The waves here seem even stronger, and with the forward motion of the boat as well, we seem to be bobbing up and down even more violently. Charlie begins retching in his hole at the bottom of the boat. Bree holds onto him to comfort him.
“Come on, Ryan,” I urge, willing him to go faster, to get us out of sight of the dangerous city.
