by Scott Cramer
* * *
Abby gripped the door handle. She regretted shouting at Jordan. It was the worst possible time to be angry—to do or say anything that might detract from their effort to find Toucan and Danny.
She also realized that he had not left Emily, Toucan, and Danny intentionally. Her brother had tried to stop Glen from taking Sea Ray. Jordan hadn’t known the fog was coming. She understood why he had lied to her.
But none of that mattered now. Everyone had to focus on finding the kids. They had jobs to do. Her job was to not be a burden.
The cruiser’s fog lights fired up a powdery spray of amber. Somehow, with zero visibility, Eddie was managing to stay on the road. Abby couldn’t see the headlights of the car behind them, only blue pulses in the fog.
The radio crackled to life. “We found Danny.” It was Jordan.
Abby choked out a sob of relief.
Eddie spoke into the mic. “What about Touk?”
A pause, then: “We’re still looking.”
Abby cowered against the door and bit down hard on her knuckle. Not even pain could draw her attention from the darkest of thoughts. When they reached Castine Lanes, Eddie climbed out of the cruiser. A cold wash of mist raised the hairs on the back of Abby’s neck when the door opened.
She watched ghostly faces light up blue and disappear, light up and disappear. Heads appeared to be detached and floating. Eddie barked instructions. “Hold hands. Stay together. We don’t need to lose anybody else.”
Abby wondered where Jordan and Emily were. They were supposed to meet the team here. They had Danny with them. Toucan was still lost, all alone. Maybe they were late because they had found her!
Then Abby heard Jordan’s voice. She strained to listen.
“Where did you find Danny?” Eddie asked.
“Near the docks,” Jordan replied.
Eddie cursed.
Abby’s heart was still free falling when Jordan passed Danny to her. She clutched the shivering boy and looked her brother in the eye. “Please find her.”
He nodded and then disappeared along with the others.
* * *
“Touk! Toucan!”
Jordan shouted out to his sister in the cavernous bowling alley. The flashlight revealed birthday confetti scattered on the floor, candle nubs, pins standing at attention in the thundering silence. Convinced Toucan was not here, he and Emily returned to the fog outside.
Jordan believed there was a good chance that Toucan had fallen off the dock and drowned. After finding her sneaker, they had searched every square inch of the dock. Jordan had gone to his belly countless times and scooped his arm through the frigid water like a dragnet.
Imagining her tiny body aching all over before numbness set in, Jordan screamed, “No,” into the gloom.
Emily shook him hard. “We will find her.”
Never give up, he told himself.
They checked the supermarket, the pharmacy, Aubuchon Hardware, every store along Gleason Street whose doors were open or smashed—easy entries for a cold and frightened toddler.
Jordan prayed they would find her at their next stop. The library was Toucan’s second home. Mom had pushed her there in a stroller to see Dad at his place of work. Abby had read to her in the kid’s section, and, more times than Jordan could remember, he had carried Toucan to the library on his shoulders. He hoped she had found her way to the library through the fog like a homing pigeon.
The books gave off a musty odor.
“Touk! Toucan!”
Jordan’s heart hammered in his chest as he waited for her to respond. He trained the flashlight on several stacks of books on a table, no doubt Kevin’s research. The library had become Kevin’s home away from home, too. He considered that thought was a good omen.
“Touk!” he shouted again.
Perhaps she had fallen asleep? Jordan let go of Emily’s hand and sprinted through the maze of stacks.
The library was empty.
* * *
“Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” Abby whispered to Danny who had not stopped clinging to her. He had yet to utter a single word. The fog and darkness cloaked them in a shroud. “Your daddy drives a truck. It’s a diesel, right?” She felt a little nod, or he might have just been swallowing.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Abby again prayed for Toucan’s safe return.
Eddie interrupted her, opening the door. Abby startled, thinking that God had finally answered her prayers. But Eddie had with him several of the younger searchers. “They’re cold and hungry,” he said. “I need to take them home before they get hypothermia.” Abby remembered that Toucan was only wearing a light spring jacket. “You and Danny need to go home, too,” Eddie told her. “I’ll return and keep searching. The fog should start to lift as the temperature drops.”
Abby didn’t want to leave, but she understood it was the best plan. Perhaps Danny, once he was in the security of his room, might settle down and remember something that would aid the search party.
Eddie transported them safely to the mansion. Before leaving, he grabbed boxes of crackers and bottles of soda for members of the search party, jackets and hats for Jordan and Emily, and a hand-held fog horn.
Abby carried Danny to her room and tried to put him in bed, but he wouldn’t unlock his arms from her neck. With him still clinging to her, she sat in her chair before the window, and soon he fell asleep.
Abby turned on a walkie-talkie. Part of her did not want to listen, did not want to know. She feared hearing the news, deep in her heart knowing that Toucan was dead. All that remained was to find her body. But she had to be brave. She had to listen. To turn off the radio now would be like abandoning her sister.
Voices crackled as the searchers called out their positions and repeated failings to find Toucan.
“I see stars,” Jordan said.
Abby checked the time. It was 3:30 a.m., the darkest, coldest time of the night. Peering out the window, she saw no stars, the fog still thick.
“I see ’em, too,” Eddie added. “The fog is lifting.”
“I can make out the jetty!” Kevin cried.
“Emily and I are going back to the docks,” Jordan said.
Abby felt Danny’s heart beating. Every beat, every passing second… did that increase the chances that they would find Toucan alive, or simply delay the inevitable tragic news.
An hour later the fog vanished. With visibility improved at the harbor, the radio chatter was non-stop. They should have found her by now. How far could a toddler wander? Abby thought that if her sister fell into the water and the tide carried away, they would never find her.
Sniffling, Abby stood and looked out the window. Danny, still holding onto her, murmured in his sleep. The horizon glowed orange and a thin veil of sea smoke lingered over the water.
She saw a car with a single headlight car approaching from the south and thought it strange that one of the searchers would drive three-quarters of the way around the island to return.
She soon recognized the car. It was Toby’s Mustang. The car turned into the mansion driveway.
Abby’s pulse quickened. She had not seen Toby in more than two months. After Chad’s death, Toby and Glen had seemingly disappeared, and now, for whatever reason, his friend had motored away in Sea Ray, leaving Toby as the last standing renegade boy. There were few reasons for him to come here at this hour, and it offered Abby a glimmer of hope after the dark night. She thought that he had found Toucan, and he was bringing her sister home.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched the car pull to a stop. When Danny groaned, Abby realized how tightly she was squeezing him in her excitement.
Toby climbed out, walked to the passenger side, opened the door, and reached in.
“Thank you, God,” Abby whispered.
Toby cradled Toucan’s limp body in his arms. Touk had on only one sneaker. Abby realized that he was not bringing her sister home. He was delivering the body.
She shrieked, and Dann
y, startled awake, started wailing. Abby peeled his arms from around her neck and placed the boy on the bed. Then she flew down the stairs into the first floor shadows and flung open the door.
Against a backdrop of the rising sun and the ghostly mist hovering over the water, Toby looked like a mythical being. He cradled Toucan, taking slow steps.
A wave of grief washed over Abby and she felt her heart explode. The shattered pieces settled into the darkest part of her soul like snowflakes. She sank to her knees, inwardly tossed and tumbled by turbulence. She heard mournful sobbing in the distance and realized she was hearing herself.
“Your sister is fine.”
The voice, too, sounded far away.
Abby blinked and drew in a sharp breath.
“I would have brought her here sooner,” Toby said, “but the fog was really bad. I’ve been staying at your old house. I found her curled up on the porch last night. Somehow she walked there in the fog. I knew you’d be worried, but it was too dangerous to drive. She’s probably hungry. I didn’t have much to give her. Sorry.”
Toucan lifted her head in a sleepy daze. Abby accepted her sister into her arms and squeezed until Toucan cried out.
Toby shifted side to side, and his lower lip quivered. He looked so completely different from the boy who Abby had seen throw a beer bottle, the boy who would aggravate their teacher to no end.
“Come inside,” she said.
He shook his head. “I can’t find Glen.” His voice choked. “He’s been sick. Yesterday I went to check on him in his room, but he was gone. I started to look for him but then the fog rolled in. Abby, I’m really worried about him. I have to keep looking.” Toby’s eyes glistened as they filled up with tears.
Abby didn’t have the heart to tell Toby that his friend was gone, that he would spend his final hours sick and alone at sea. Now, more than anything, Toby needed someone to care about him.
“Come inside,” she said again and reached out her hand.
Perhaps it was her expression this time, or that Toby felt too weak to keep searching for his friend, or that he was finally ready to join them—he took her hand and entered the mansion without question.
MONTH 9 – CASUALTY REPORT
Abby pulled the covers over her head and tried to ignore the dull ache deep in the pit of her stomach. She blamed it on food poisoning, although the others who had eaten peaches from the same can had not complained of cramping. They must have eaten only the good slices; she must have had a rotten slice. They were lucky, she was not.
Abby was thankful that her temperature was normal, because the combination of cramping and high fever would most likely mean the space germs had started their assault—the beginning of the end.
The glowing hands of her watch showed the time was 11:45 p.m. It was January 31, and the final seconds of the month were ticking down. Abby could not wait for the symbolic stroke of midnight, for the month to end, for her luck to change.
Every month since the night of the purple moon had seen its share of tragedies and horrors, but January had been one of the most depressing months for the Castine Island survivors.
The day before the CDC had delivered a sobering broadcast on the worldwide death toll and number of survivors in the United States.
“There are three-hundred and forty-two adults living in underground CDC complexes in Atlanta, Georgia,” the robotic voice reported in the most monotonous of tones. “Eight-hundred and thirty one U.S. Navy personnel are manning two nuclear-powered submarines. Three American astronauts, among a crew of fifteen, are on the International Space Station. The total number of American adult survivors is one-thousand one-hundred and seventy six.”
Abby and the others listened to the report in stunned silence.
“To determine the number of worldwide casualties, CDC scientists have analyzed infrared satellite data,” the robot continued. “The results have a margin of error of one-hundred million people.”
Kevin quickly explained that infrared satellites detect body heat.
“The CDC estimates that six billion, five-hundred million people died in the epidemic.”
Some of the children broke down and cried, while most stared into space, unable to comprehend a number of that magnitude. Abby, who had always known deep down that the loss of life had been staggering, cried quietly.
The robot wasn’t finished. “We’ve determined the surviving pre-pubescent population of the United Sates is between fifteen and sixteen million.”
The report played over and over again, and many of the kids listened to it again and again, or at least they remained in their seats.
Later, the older kids had done the math to understand the ratio of adults to children. First they assumed the number of adults was three fewer than reported by the robot. The three astronauts on the International Space Station, with no shuttle to rescue them, were doomed to orbit Earth forever. After dividing the two numbers, they determined there was roughly one adult for every fifteen thousand children, a ratio that was getting smaller as more teens entered puberty.
Kevin emphasized that the ratio was true for only for the United States. “We don’t know about Europe, Africa, Asia,” he said. “China and India, alone, could have billions of surviving children.”
Abby wondered which of those countries had their own scientists working on a cure. Certainly the poorer nations did not. Before the day ended, she and the others had come to the same conclusion. They couldn’t worry about the planet, or the rest of the country. Everyone had to focus on their own needs on Castine Island.
Under the covers, Abby doubled over from a new wave of cramps. When she brought her knees to her chin, she felt something warm and wet and squishy between her legs. Afraid of what she would find but even more afraid of not knowing, she walked into the bathroom, one hand pressed tightly against her lower stomach. The telltale signs had not deceived her: she had started her period.
Her mind flooded with so many thoughts at once that Abby couldn’t think, but her eyes caught sight of the time. January had officially ended.
MONTH 10 – LIPS TOUCH
“Kevy’s sick,” Toucan said to Abby. “His hands are hot.” Her sister’s brow had wrinkles of concern.
Abby had watched Kevin lift Toucan over the baby gate, and she knew the explanation was obvious. The outside temperature had remained below freezing for the past three weeks and the kids had no choice but to keep two wood stoves going downstairs. Sometimes the stoves burned too hot and overheated the room.
“Touk, it’s hot in here.” Abby said. “My hands are hot, too.” She cupped her sister’s cheeks and that helped smooth Toucan’s furrowed brow. “Kevin is fine.”
Toucan gave her a big grin and raced off to play with Danny.
Later, unable to shake Touk’s observation, Abby approached Kevin. He was reading a chemistry book in the living room.
“Interesting?” she asked, studying him for signs of the illness.
He nodded and continued to read. “Really interesting.”
“Kevin?” She’d ask him directly if he were sick. When he looked up, she hesitated. She saw none of the symptoms, bloodshot eyes, perspiration, lethargy… He looked fine, just cute, nerdy Kevin with a science book.
“What?” he asked.
“Would you rather spend time with me or would you rather study chemistry equations?”
He had to think about it!
“You are hopeless,” she said with a smile and left him to ponder the choice—hopefully get the answer right!
That night in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Abby regretted not asking Kevin if he were sick. What was she afraid of? Of all the thirteen-year-old boys, Kevin was least likely to be attacked by the germs. Abby worried more about several others. Tim’s wispy mustache and acne and Derek’s cracking voice were clear and ominous signs of approaching puberty. Kevin’s face was smooth and hairless, his voice unchanged. He would be fine; he had to be fine.
Abby thought of a second reason why
she had not questioned him. If she wanted to know about his health, Kevin might want to know about hers. She had told no one that her period had started. KK had survived for three months after her period had begun, and the antibiotic would not be available for at least another four months. Had the others known her secret, they would have worried about her.
In the morning, after a restless sleep, Abby decided that she had to know once and for all. She grabbed a thermometer and went to look for Kevin. According to the schedule, he was supposed to be tending his latest invention, the fresh water still. Nobody had seen him.
She nervously approached his bedroom.
Abby found him in bed and dropped the thermometer in shock. It bounced on the floor, but didn’t break. Since she had seen him last—not even twelve hours ago—the change in his condition was dramatic. His eyes were bloodshot, cheeks flushed; every breath he took made a raspy sound. Or had he looked this sick yesterday? Abby wondered if she had wanted him to be healthy so badly that her eyes had deceived her.
“Kevin, why didn’t you tell me?”
“If you cry,” he said, “it’ll only make me feel worse.”
Abby swallowed her tears.
He weakly rolled onto his side. “On a scale of one to ten, my stomach cramps are a six. I’d like to keep a chart of my vital signs. Will you help me do that?”
Kevin, like a scientist, was studying his own illness!
Abby managed a little nod before she burst into tears and ran from the room.
* * *
“Emily, they owe me twenty-five dollars!” Kevin exclaimed, with glazed eyes widening as he looked up at her from his bed. “You’re my witness, okay?”
“Who owes you money?” Emily asked.
“Mother and Father. I just saw a moose.”
All their family car trips together, the bounties their parents assigned to spotting wildlife—none of them had ever spotted a moose.
“Okay,” she said, biting her lip. “I’ll be your witness.”
Hallucinations were an indication that the space germs were picking up the pace of their deadly march forward, now infecting her brother’s mind. It was not the first time that Kevin had seen or heard things. Earlier in the day he had thought he was in India, hanging out with their cousins, Ajay and Jyran.
