She started to reach inside, but then pulled her hand back and waited. Lucy recognized the box from a pair of shoes she had purchased a while ago—a pair of sequined flats that she begged her mom to get for her. Of course she had never missed the box, but here it was, inside a hidden cubbyhole in a secret room in the back of their fruit cellar. She closed her eyes. Everything inside the room seemed to be pointing Lucy toward the truth. Darla assumed that she was ready to hear it; Lucy doubted she would ever be ready.
She slid the box out of the wall and heard its contents roll and shift. She opened the lid and inside were two syringes and two empty vials. The masking tape labels across the tubing read: Ethan and Lucy. Here were the other two vaccines. Her thoughts went immediately to Darla outside the door and little Teddy upstairs. These were the vaccines that saved their lives. She held them up to the flashlight, searching for a fraction of leftover vaccine—a hope that there would be something for Grant, but they were light and dry.
Inside the box was also a note, typed, that read: Attn: Box Contents. Lab results. Photographic evidence of data. Instructions for Administering upon the following circumstances: If we failed to complete your immunizations for our trip to the Seychelles. Take immediately.
Lucy exhaled. None of that was new information and she braced herself for the next piece. She set her old shoebox down and shifted her attention to the paper on the desk.
She saw that it was a letter dated four months ago. Four months ago, when the biggest worries of her teenage life were winter formal and AP psychology tests, Salem’s boy chasing and Ethan’s clingy girlfriend issues. She almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it all.
The note read:
My dearest family, if you are reading this note it means that our plans have not quite gone the way I hoped. If you are reading this note and it doesn’t make sense to you, then perhaps the plan failed completely and totally. If that is the case, I can’t even begin to imagine my fate. There is a chance you are reading this letter too soon, but I feel very secure that this room behind the fruit cellar will go unnoticed. I am sorry that this note is vague. It is best not to speak of things explicitly that are rooted so firmly in the future. I am sorry I cannot communicate to you fully. It is my greatest wish to explain how things came to be. You will likely have questions and I hope that I can someday answer them for you.
My heart is heavy with the knowledge that all that I have tried to do to protect you may not matter in the end. I suppose that is the greatest burden we carry as parents, no matter the situation. But there are two things you must rest in: Know that I love you all more than anything. And also: Know that I tried to shield you as best I could. It is not for lack of love that you may find yourself in a trying and difficult time. If, as you read this, and you understand the trials I am speaking of and you also find yourself without me, I am leaving you two things that will help you. The first thing is in this room: They are labeled for each of you, should you find that my initial protection efforts were not enough.
The second you will find if you follow my words. I cannot stress this more to you: Do whatever you can to reach this place. It is the only safe place. I hope to be there, waiting for you. Find this place and you will find me. I know that all of this will not be enough, but it is all I can give you for now.
With much love, Dad or, affectionately, Scott.
And on the bottom of the vague letter in her father’s distinct handwriting was a small quote that read: “When you are real you don’t mind being hurt.”
Lucy clutched the paper to her chest and spun around the room with the flashlight once more, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. The food. The note. The vaccines. Food and water to sustain them should a virus wipe out a food and water supply. A note that pointed them to the vaccines. A note that seemed rooted in regret and apology.
A fire grew in her stomach and it seemed to want to burn her from the inside out. She didn’t know if she should scream or throw up. With one last long look around, she took a deep breath and left the room behind, back out into the fruit cellar, where Grant and Darla waited. She trained the flashlight on both of them and they startled at the sudden light. Lucy didn’t pause or hesitate; instead she shimmied out from behind the shelf and then walked straight to the wooden door, the light bobbing out in front.
“And? What did you find?” Grant asked, following on her heels. “Lucy, wait up! What was in there?”
Lucy didn’t answer as she climbed out of the fruit cellar and on to the cement basement flooring, pausing only to light the way for Darla and Grant and, after they successfully navigated the small step, she kept moving.
“Lucy,” Grant said, his voice turning breathless as he picked up his pace to catch up with her. “Lucy!”
She spun, still clutching her father’s note to her body, “I need to talk to my brother,” she answered as she reached the steps. Then she bounded up two at a time and left the others down in the darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ethan looked pale and his eyes were sunken and watery. He regarded Lucy with a thin wave and then he sunk lower into his wheelchair.
“Help me back to the couch?” he requested and Lucy pushed the chair back through the doorway and into the study, Teddy still along for the ride.
“Again!” Teddy instructed. “I like the wheelchair ride, uncle Ethan,” the young boy said as Ethan tousled his hair. “My mommy took me to Disneyland when I turned four. They had rides there and I went on a fast one that went zoom-zoom-zoom. Do you know which one?”
“Lots of them go zoom-zoom, don’t they? Disneyland is fun, huh?” Ethan replied. “I’m glad you got to go, Teddy. I’m glad. Hey buddy, you want to hop down real easy now?” He picked the child up under his armpits and lowered him to the floor. Then Lucy stepped in and snapped the side of the chair down and helped Ethan slide his body over to the couch. He winced the entire time, groaning in pain, but powering through the bumps and jolts.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Lucy asked him once he was settled. She tossed him a pillow and he shoved it behind his back.
“Tell you? Like…hey…there’s a secret room hidden next to the fruit cellar and dad left us some cryptic note from around Thanksgiving that pretty much predicted the end of the world. Oh, and, right, like there’s also a ridiculous pile of food and water there too. And some men in a van kidnapped mom and everyone else and took them to the airport. Where they clearly took off in an airplane despite the fact that all the planes were grounded.” He closed his eyes. “And I haven’t heard from them. Or dad. I’ve heard from no one. So.”
“When you say it like that,” Lucy replied and Ethan mustered up a small smile in return.
“You had to discover it like I did. You just had to.”
Darla and Grant made their way back up to the main floor and worked their way into the room. Teddy whined about a snack and Darla whisked him off to the kitchen. Grant followed her, shooting Lucy a sympathetic look as he exited.
“Okay, but what does it mean?” Lucy asked. She had an idea, but she wanted or needed Ethan to say it first. She wanted him to be the one to admit it out loud, because for her to say those words felt like an immeasurable betrayal.
“It means our dad knew.”
Her heart sank. Ethan did it. He said it and he validated the fear and uneasiness that she couldn’t shake. She wished he could take it back, say that he was kidding, that he didn’t know, but Ethan looked straight at her and kept going.