“I guess we’ll be sitting back here,” she said, referring to the cargo compartment behind the rear seat.
Daniel nodded. He watched his father make his sullen way up the drive, hands in his pockets, chin down, feet dragging. He looked like a whipped dog, and Daniel no longer wanted to know what had been said between them. He didn’t want to feel any sorrier for his dad than he already did.
As Hunter and Chen got in the back seat and his father and Edward slid in up front, Daniel felt overwhelmed with how right the pairing felt. The presence of another couple seemed to solidify something between him and Anna—some vicarious romantic energy. We are what they are. He and Anna crawled in the back amid the bags of food and the suitcase. Daniel grabbed the top edge of the hinged rear door, its window down, and swung it shut. It banged and latched with the raw metal sound of an older car, and they were off, crunching the gravel driveway, turning their back on the empty house and ruined family car, working their way down the narrow alley of wounded and broken trees, the glare of the sun dimming as they passed through the mottled shade, then out to the unbroken shine and steady thrum of civilized pavement beyond.
23
The world went by in reverse. Daniel and Anna watched the past from the back of the Bronco, the road sliding off into the distance as they leaned against the back of the seat and peered out the rear window. A tree that they had cut and hauled out of the way just hours before popped into view and then slid away from them. The plastic grocery bags rustled in the breeze. Bits of conversation from the two men in the front drifted back, but in an indistinguishable slur. The deep silence from Hunter and Chen was much nearer.
Daniel felt his body unwind from the several days of tension. He relaxed against the seat behind him and felt the raw terror of his life—not the storm aftermath, but of his normal life—slide out his pores. He felt happy and calm in a way he couldn’t remember since childhood. Maybe it was knowing his brother was okay, that his entire family was okay. Perhaps it was the chilly breeze passing through the car, cooling the sweat on the back of his neck, making his hair dance on his scalp. Maybe it was the thrill of being one of the only vehicles in sight, or the view of all the destruction sliding over the horizon, reminding him how awesome it was to be alive. He soaked in the unusual state of bliss. He felt his shoulder bump up against Anna’s as the Bronco lurched to the side. He felt Anna press herself closer, so that the contact between them remained long after the limb Edward had dodged disappeared into the past.
Maybe it was all the emotional outpouring of the last few days, the thrill of the unknowable future rushing at him blindly from behind, not knowing when he’d go to school again, not knowing when he’d watch TV again, not knowing when his cell phone would come back to life and continue its unringing mocking. It could have been any or all of these things that caused him to do the unthinkable, the laughable, the it-only-happens-in-the-movies:
He reached over and grabbed Anna’s hand.
It was so easy. It was like he couldn’t not do it. He felt her warm and soft palm against his own, felt her small and dexterous fingers curl around his, accepting. He rubbed his thumb up and down the back of her fingers, marveling at how simple and correct the harmless act felt. Some kind of raw power surged through him, a joy that threatened to burst out through his chest if his heart couldn’t contain it. Then Anna tilted her head to the side and rested it on Daniel’s shoulder, and she made the unimprovable better.
The world slid into the past. The future came at them blindly. With the wind drowning out the sound of the blinker, the stops and turns took them by surprise, causing them to stiffen and brace for what came next. But they remained like that, leaning on one another, hands caressing hands, fingers learning how they interlocked, and Daniel realized that if it was happening so fast, it wasn’t because of anything apocalyptic. He realized that Anna had been waiting just as long for him as he had been for her.
24
As they rode slowly through town, Daniel was glad for the extended tour and the leisurely pace. He could’ve ridden in that Bronco forever.
They passed a gas station with a line of vehicles all trying to get to a single pump. The rattle of a portable generator and the sight of a man in coveralls working the nozzle gave them a bit of hope that civilization could reopen for business, albeit slowly and at a trickle.
Two police cars sat outside the Save-Mart, their blue lights flashing in circles. There was yellow tape over the front glass, which was patched with full sheets of plywood.
“Storm damage or looting?” Daniel asked.
Anna let go of his hand to grab the edge of the rear window and peer out. “I hope storm damage,” she said, but not too convincingly.
Daniel rubbed his hands together. He felt the residual heat from her skin touching his. He glanced at Anna’s hand and had the powerful surety that he could grab it again if he wanted. It was a new power, like waking up one morning to discover you could fly. He could touch someone in a loving way and have them not flinch, or think him a creep. They would even reciprocate.
Daniel had a sudden impulse to leap out of the back of the Bronco and run down the street, screaming at the top of his voice.
“Look at that,” Anna said. She pointed off to the other side. Daniel could hear his father and Edward jabbering in the front. His brother cursed.
Daniel leaned forward and peered out the back of the Bronco and off to the side. The hulk of a dozen boats were scattered over the marsh between the highway and the Beaufort River. Normally, the craft were bobbing in the gentle swell or stiff current of the ever-changing tide, like ducks all swimming in the same direction. The high tide and storm surge had pulled their moorings free and had dragged them over dry land before receding. Now they sat on their sides, forlorn and looking like toys, masts angling up toward the sky in unusual angles, the tatters of an unfurled headsail hanging from a forestay like laundry left out to dry. A pickup truck was parked out on a gravel turnout, the driver standing by the front bumper, his hands on the sides of his head, elbows jutting, disbelieving, to either side. Daniel wondered if he was one of the owners, or just a stunned gawker like the rest of them.
“Over there,” Anna said.
She pointed across the river. Daniel saw the stern and prop of a boat lost among the trees on the far bank. A small sailboat stood high and dry, tangled in the broken limbs of an old oak. It seemed to be what Anna was pointing at. He heard Hunter and Chen conversing back and forth; he looked to the side to see their faces hanging out the window, eyes wide and darting.
Daniel imagined what the City Marina must look like if this anchorage, known affectionately as “Hurricane Hole” for its relatively nice protection, could be so decimated. He was frankly glad when Edward did a U-Turn at the end of town and started heading back toward home, keeping him from having to see what his dad had been through.
“Doesn’t look like much of anything’s open for business,” Daniel said.
They passed the gas station with the single operational pump. Edward didn’t even slow down, obviously deciding he had enough fuel to not endure the wait.
“It’s only been two days,” Anna pointed out. Daniel felt a stabbing fear that she was referring to their hand-holding and the rapidity of his feelings for her. He shook such doubts away. She was talking about the storm, the signs of progress already. She was saying that this was as bad as it would be, and it would only get better.