forever grateful to her for protecting us.
“ Can I help you bury her?” I ask.
Bree nods, still looking down, a tear falling.
Together, we reach down, pick up Sasha, and lean forward with her over the side of the boat. We both hold her there, neither of us wanting to let her go. I look down into the freezing, dark water of the Hudson below, waves bobbing.
“ Do you want to say anything?” I ask, “before we let her go?”
Bree looks down, blinking away tears, her face lit up by the moonlight. She looks angelic.
“ She was a good dog. She saved my life. I hope she’s in a better place now. And I hope I see her again,” she says, her voice breaking.
We reach all the way over, and gently place Sasha in. With a light splash, her body hits the water. If floats there for a second or two, then begins to sink. The tides of the Hudson are strong, and they quickly pull it out, towards the open water. We watch as she bobs, half-submerged, in the moonlight, drifting father and farther away. I feel my heart breaking. It reminds me how close I came to having Bree taken from me for good, to being washed away down the Hudson, just like Sasha.
*
I don’t know how many hours have passed. It is now late in the night, and I lay there in the boat, curled up around Bree and Rose, thinking, unable to sleep. None of us have said a word since we set Sasha into to the water. We all just sit there in the grim silence, the boat rocking softly. A few feet from us sits Ben, also lost in his own world. He seems more dead than alive; sometimes when I look at him, I feel as if I’m looking at a walking ghost. It’s odd: we’re all sitting here together, yet we’re all worlds apart.
Logan is about ten yards away, dutifully on guard on the pier, gun in hand as he looks around. I can imagine him as a soldier. I’m glad to have him protecting us, working the first shift. I’m tired, my bones are weary, and I’m not looking forward to taking over the next shift. I know I should be sleeping, but I can’t. Lying there, with Bree in my arms, my mind races.
I think of what a crazy, crazy world it is out there now. I can hardly believe this is all real. It’s like one long nightmare that won’t end. Every time I think I’m safe, something happens. Thinking back, I can hardly believe how close I just came to getting killed by Rupert. It was so stupid of me to take pity on him, to let him ride with us. I still can’t quite understand why he freaked out. What had he hoped to gain? Was he that desperate that he would kill all of us, take our boat and disappear—just to have more food for himself? And where would he have taken it? Was he just evil? Psychotic? Or was he a good man, and had all those years of being alone and starving and freezing just made him snap?
I want to believe it’s the latter, that he was, deep down, a good man just made crazy by circumstance. I hope so. But I’ll never know.
I close my eyes and think of how close I came to getting killed, feel the cold metal of his knife against my throat. Next time, I will trust no one. Stop for no one. Believe no one. I will do whatever I can to make sure that Bree and Rose and myself and the others survive. No more chances. No more risks. If that means becoming callous, then so be it.
Thinking back, I feel like every hour on the Hudson has been a life or death battle. I don’t fathom how we will ever possibly make it all the way to Canada. I’d be amazed if we even survive the next few days, even the next few miles on the water. I know our chances aren’t good. I hold Bree tight, knowing this may be our last night together. At least we’ll go down fighting, on our own two feet, and not as slaves and prisoners.
“ It was so scary,” Brooks says.
Her voice startles me in the darkness. It is so soft, I wonder at first if she even spoke. She hasn’t said a word for hours, and I thought she was asleep.
I turn and see her eyes are open, staring out with fear.
“ What
“ Can I help you bury her?” I ask.
Bree nods, still looking down, a tear falling.
Together, we reach down, pick up Sasha, and lean forward with her over the side of the boat. We both hold her there, neither of us wanting to let her go. I look down into the freezing, dark water of the Hudson below, waves bobbing.
“ Do you want to say anything?” I ask, “before we let her go?”
Bree looks down, blinking away tears, her face lit up by the moonlight. She looks angelic.
“ She was a good dog. She saved my life. I hope she’s in a better place now. And I hope I see her again,” she says, her voice breaking.
We reach all the way over, and gently place Sasha in. With a light splash, her body hits the water. If floats there for a second or two, then begins to sink. The tides of the Hudson are strong, and they quickly pull it out, towards the open water. We watch as she bobs, half-submerged, in the moonlight, drifting father and farther away. I feel my heart breaking. It reminds me how close I came to having Bree taken from me for good, to being washed away down the Hudson, just like Sasha.
*
I don’t know how many hours have passed. It is now late in the night, and I lay there in the boat, curled up around Bree and Rose, thinking, unable to sleep. None of us have said a word since we set Sasha into to the water. We all just sit there in the grim silence, the boat rocking softly. A few feet from us sits Ben, also lost in his own world. He seems more dead than alive; sometimes when I look at him, I feel as if I’m looking at a walking ghost. It’s odd: we’re all sitting here together, yet we’re all worlds apart.
Logan is about ten yards away, dutifully on guard on the pier, gun in hand as he looks around. I can imagine him as a soldier. I’m glad to have him protecting us, working the first shift. I’m tired, my bones are weary, and I’m not looking forward to taking over the next shift. I know I should be sleeping, but I can’t. Lying there, with Bree in my arms, my mind races.
I think of what a crazy, crazy world it is out there now. I can hardly believe this is all real. It’s like one long nightmare that won’t end. Every time I think I’m safe, something happens. Thinking back, I can hardly believe how close I just came to getting killed by Rupert. It was so stupid of me to take pity on him, to let him ride with us. I still can’t quite understand why he freaked out. What had he hoped to gain? Was he that desperate that he would kill all of us, take our boat and disappear—just to have more food for himself? And where would he have taken it? Was he just evil? Psychotic? Or was he a good man, and had all those years of being alone and starving and freezing just made him snap?
I want to believe it’s the latter, that he was, deep down, a good man just made crazy by circumstance. I hope so. But I’ll never know.
I close my eyes and think of how close I came to getting killed, feel the cold metal of his knife against my throat. Next time, I will trust no one. Stop for no one. Believe no one. I will do whatever I can to make sure that Bree and Rose and myself and the others survive. No more chances. No more risks. If that means becoming callous, then so be it.
Thinking back, I feel like every hour on the Hudson has been a life or death battle. I don’t fathom how we will ever possibly make it all the way to Canada. I’d be amazed if we even survive the next few days, even the next few miles on the water. I know our chances aren’t good. I hold Bree tight, knowing this may be our last night together. At least we’ll go down fighting, on our own two feet, and not as slaves and prisoners.
“ It was so scary,” Brooks says.
Her voice startles me in the darkness. It is so soft, I wonder at first if she even spoke. She hasn’t said a word for hours, and I thought she was asleep.
I turn and see her eyes are open, staring out with fear.
“ What
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