“Zelda?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be waiting for you at the tunnel exit.”
I couldn’t say anything, only blink hard to clear my eyes.
“Do you want me to hang up and let you drive?”
“No, just—” I swallowed. Even Berron’s reassurance couldn’t stop the horror of seeing Mom and Poppy unresponsive. “Stay with me. Please.”
“I’m here. I’m running. I’ll be right there when you’re out.”
More white tile. More hospital fluorescent light. Then, in the distance—a faint orange glow.
The arch of the tunnel exit.
The cars ahead of me sped up.
“Come on, New Jersey,” I said, mashing the accelerator.
Never thought I’d be happy to see New Jersey. Brick walls and exposed stone to my right. Industrial buildings to my left. Open sky above, rapidly brightening. Following the signs, trying to picture the swirl of highways that would take me fastest around and back into the tunnel, back to Manhattan. Exiting through another short tunnel, back into daylight. New Jersey proper, with rocky hillsides and apartments and office buildings.
One U-turn and I’d be eastbound.
Done. Then we were flashing past colorful paintings under an overpass. And finally—finally!—a triple archway into the tunnel.
We were in.
“I’m coming,” I said to Berron.
“Already there,” he said.
Mom’s head rolled. I tried to steady her, but there was no fighting the motion of the car. I glanced back at Poppy, who was sprawled out like an overgrown child on a long road trip.
More white tile. I hated the sight of it. I wanted to lean on the horn and go faster, faster, shoot out of that tunnel like a ball from a pinball chute. Thank God it was still early and the traffic hadn’t jammed.
Just when it seemed the tunnel might go on forever, possibly under Manhattan and then under the Atlantic Ocean itself, all the way to Poppy’s birthplace, the rising sun glared in the distance.
Mom stirred.
The last yards flew by and we wereout. Back in Manhattan with its glorious congestion and scaffolding.
“I’m almost to you,” I said to Berron.
I didn’t realize how hard I was shaking until I tried to pull the SUV into the right lane. “Mom? Wake up, we’re here.” I sounded like the parent. “We’re back. Can you hear me?”
Poppy groaned in the back seat. “What in the bloodyhell…?”
“It’s okay,” I said, “you’re all right. You passed out but you’re all right. We’re back in Manhattan.”
“Zelda?” Mom said, weakly.
“I’m right here, Mom.”
She touched a hand to her forehead. “Is this the airport?”
“You got dizzy and we had to come back. Do you feel okay?”
