“Well,” Grant paused, “we don’t have a choice. We go where the wind takes us. But from here? I’m hoping to catch the wind that travels south. Head toward Central Oregon…plenty of open landing space.”
“This is brilliant, Grant,” Ethan reached forward for a high-five, which Grant reciprocated. He turned to his sister with appraising eyes. She looked to Ethan, Grant, and then Darla who picked at the bed of her fingernails with the tip of a paperclip.
“I can’t even believe we’re talking about this as an actual thing,” Darla muttered. She flicked the dirt and grime to the floor and bit off the top part of her fingernail on her right pointer finger.
“A freaking hot air balloon,” Lucy added and Darla smirked—they shared a moment bonding over their skepticism.
“This can work, Lucy,” Grant said, turning to her. “I am promising you.” He lowered his voice. “I will get us to your family.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re following a cryptic letter. Nothing more.” Ethan replied. “For now, we’re following the hint of my family. That is what we’re chasing. A hope. In a hot air balloon.”
“A hint, a hope, a hot air balloon,” Lucy mused out loud. She thought of Mrs. Johnston’s alliteration poster and smiled to herself. Yes, fools, all of them, thinking that in the end knowledge of literary terms could ever be useful. “You’ll need this for a successful future,” some of the more idiotic educators pontificated. What future? Lucy thought. Apparently for her future she needed to know how to navigate a hot air balloon. And she shook her head, exhaled long and low, and then turned to the group. “When do we leave?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Eight days after The Release
The day before the big trip, they planned and prepped and enjoyed their last full day together. Anxious to hear if Spencer would be able to uphold his end of the bargain, Darla had paced the length of the den while brainstorming a backup plan, while Ethan sat morose, dipping into their father’s liquor cabinet again and self-medicating until he had passed out on the couch. Lucy could not blame him for wanting to check out. They could all see that Ethan’s health was deteriorating and without antibiotics and someone to look at his legs, they all feared the worst.
Darla tucked him in and then asked them not to be too hard on him. “He wishes he could be the one to do this,” she said. “He feels like he’s failing you.”
For the first time since they concocted the hot air balloon idea, Lucy felt guilty for her quick willingness to leave him behind. “If you think I should stay, please tell me,” Lucy begged Darla.
“No, you should go,” Darla replied. “Spencer’s network was intricate and vast. I would never have saved his pathetic life and offered him our most precious resource if I didn’t believe he would help us save Ethan.”
Lucy had to trust that she was right.
When sleep finally found her that evening, she crashed. There were no dreams. No midnight awakenings. And now, in this early morning, her body refused to budge and her mind kept shoving her back into the darkness. She could feel Grant’s hand push on her shoulder, his voice call her name, but she refused to acknowledge his presence.
“Lucy? Lucy?” Grant said to her. “It’s time. We have to go.”
When she was able to pry her eyes open, Grant’s shape was blurry in front of her as he knelt down by her bedside. Outside, it was still dark.
“Don’t make me pour a bucket of water on you Lucy, please?” Grant pleaded and his words hovered in the place where sleep beckoned her, but where her mind was aware, but not awake.
“No—” she protested.
“Wake up, please. We have to go. I’ve checked the wind…heading south…at sunrise. It’s a mile to my house, Lucy. We have to hurry. Who knows if the weather will be right tomorrow. It’s Oregon after all. We have to catch the wind just right.”
“I don’t want to go—” she slurred. But she felt Grant reach a hand under her back, lift her forward. “Okay, okay,” she said when her body was upright.
“Pack a bag. Light. I’ll be downstairs.”
Lucy nodded, her eyes still closed.
She thought of the last time she had been awakened and then told to get her bags ready. She shivered at the comparison.
“Are you getting up?” Grant asked her in a parental tone as he stood in the doorway.
She nodded again, but felt her body slink back toward the warmth of her bed.
From outside she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps, her door banging backward, and Darla’s exasperated sigh.
“Please Grant, this is not how you do it,” Darla spat at him. “You’re being too nice.”
Lucy resisted and Darla grabbed her by her hands and pulled her to the floor, her chin hitting the carpeted floor with a thud. Then Darla sat her up and yanked all the remaining covers free.
“Five minutes. Go downstairs, Grant. I got this.”
Grant mumbled a protest, but then retreated.
Alone with Darla, Lucy started to move.
“Not even nearly fast enough sweetheart,” Darla said and pulled her to her feet. “Such a ridiculous life you lead. Bet your mommy got you up every morning with some soft rock and butterfly kisses, right?”
“Hardly,” Lucy replied. Then her thoughts went to her mom.
Her mother was in Nebraska. She knew it, felt it, like she knew that she was going to take another breath or blink. Her mommy was in Nebraska.
“I’m up,” she said and walked to her closet. She knew she had been wearing the same clothes for the past few days and she could smell the stench as she shed them without a hint of self-consciousness. Then Lucy changed into a pair of cargo pants and a black hooded sweatshirt. She grabbed a change of clothes and shoved it into a backpack. The other night in the den, she found her father’s copy of Fahrenheit 451 and for comfort and reading material she packed that too.
Tying on Galen’s hiking boots, which she was pleased to discover fit her quite comfortably, she was ready to leave, but Lucy still felt disoriented.
“You good?” Darla asked and then she retreated.
When she finally made it downstairs, she saw everyone waiting.
Now Lucy could see that Grant had changed too. He was wearing a combination of clothing items from Ethan and her dad, including a weather-resistant jacket with Ethan’s college logo displayed across the back.
Off they marched into the middle of a war and they both just looked like co-eds heading to a rainy football game.
“I’m ready,” Lucy announced.
Grant shimmied into a hiking pack. He nodded toward it as he lifted it up across his shoulders. “The ready-to-eat meals. Flashlight and a blanket.” He leaned down and handed Lucy a pack of matches and a handful of glow-sticks. “These didn’t fit in my pack.”
She shoved them into the front packet, the crinkly packaging echoing loudly in the quiet front room.
“We’ll be heading through unfamiliar neighborhoods,” Darla said. “We stay close. We don’t know who’s alive out there. Grant has proved that much.”
“And there definitely could be zombies,” Grant whispered.
“No zombies.” Lucy rolled her eyes.
“Grant, you’ll have to lead the way,” Darla continued.
Teddy sat on the steps, a found stuffed animal in his hand. He was sucking his thumb and his eyes were heavy with sleep. “Mom,” he asked. “When are you coming back?”
“Later sweetheart. Stay good for Ethan.”
“Mom?”
“Yes, baby boy.”
“Can we go to the park to play when you get home?”
Darla looked at him and smiled softly. “I’ll see. Let’s just say maybe.”
Grant and Darla started toward the side-door, but Lucy hesitated. “Go on, I’ll be right out.” They exited out into the carport and left the two of them alone. She turned to Ethan and walked over to him, kneeling, but careful not to touch his legs. “I don’t know what I should say here,” she mumbled.