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Simone closed her eyes, then sighed. “Once we find somewhere safe, I plan to go get my family. If I have to tie them together and herd them like cattle, I will.”
“We could all do that,” Minji suggested. “See if our families are trapped in their houses.”
“I wouldn’t suggest an extended road trip,” Jesse interjected. “At some point, everyone that’s mesmerized is going to die. The dead will be everywhere.”
“Don’t say that,” Arthur said sharply. He’d finished his call and now stood in front of the open doors to the hallway. “You can’t say that! Someone will figure it out. Someone will save us!”
Minji breathed in the sweet scent of Bailey’s hair that mingled with the acrid smell seeping into the room from outside. What they were discussing was too impossibly horrible to even consider as reality, but Minji recognized that they needed to be honest about their situation.
“This is probably it, Arthur,” Simone said after a long pause. “The end of the world.”
“No! You can’t say that! You can’t!” Arthur lunged forward to glower into Simone’s eyes, but she stood her ground. “Scientists are working on it! The president said so! People are going to find a way to stop it!”
Minji stroked Ava’s cheek lovingly. Would her little girl ever wake up? And did Minji want her to? The days ahead were no longer hopeful, but terrifying. Minji wondered if she had the fortitude to endure the end of the world.
“Someone will figure it out! Someone has to!” Arthur clutched his head with shaking hands. “Someone has to save us...someone has to help us!
“Heeeeeeeeeelp...”
It took Minji a second to realize the hoarse, rattling voice was emanating from Ava. The eerie blank stare remained firmly on her face as her lips parted and her tongue flexed in her mouth. Then, onc
e again, Ava uttered a single word.
“Help...”
Chapter 18
Virginia
6:45 PM
Rachel finished tying her youngest son to his bed, relieved that the Benadryl had taken effect and that he was placidly asleep. Tears streaming along the curve of her round cheeks, she tested the knots to make sure the ties were close-fitting enough.
“Mom?”
On the bed on the opposite side of the room, her teenage son stared at her through his thick eyelashes, drowsy and muddled. The sleeping pill she had laced his soda with was taking effect.
“It’s okay, Junior. Go to sleep.”
Juan Carlos appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, hands thrust into his trouser pockets. His thick, curly hair was unusually messy and his beard had tufts sticking out where he kept nervously tugging on it. “Angela is asleep and I made the knots as tight as I could.” His Puerto Rican accent was thicker than normal and his dark eyes clearly projected his dismay. “Are you sure we should do this?”
“You saw what’s happening on the news.” Tugging on the knot one more time, she looked at the pile of Juan Carlos’s ties that were puddled on the bedspread. There were just enough for her and her husband.
It was late afternoon and the light filtering through the curtains was gray and morose. A storm was moving along the East Coast and would reach landfall by evening. They’d moved to Virginia from New York City for her job. It had been a difficult decision to uproot their family from their neighborhood and extended families. Juan Carlos had deep ties to the Puerto Rican community and she’d been very active in the Jewish faith. Now they were alone in a new town and far away from the bustle of the big city. For once, she had no regrets about their move. Rachel couldn’t even imagine the tumult encompassing the city right now. Juan Carlos had been faithfully watching the news, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. It was already stressful enough dealing with making sure her children were safe. She didn’t need the additional worry about friends, old neighbors, and her relatives.
“What if it doesn’t pass?” Juan Carlos asked, sitting on the edge of his eldest son’s bed. His namesake was now snoring lightly.
“We won’t know it,” she answered. She’d caught glimpse of the transfixed people on the television screen walking off overpasses, into bodies of water, stumbling about with grievous wounds. All the videos were taken from afar, giving them a surrealistic quality, but they had all told the exact same story.
“Think it’s the government? Mind control?”
Rachel shrugged as she gathered her husband’s business ties off the bed and pressed one last kiss to her youngest child’s forehead. “Have good dreams, Miguel.”
Juan Carlos hugged and kissed his oldest son, whispering to him in Spanish. The parents then swapped places, spending a last few precious moments with their children. In silence they walked across the hall to their daughter’s room and repeated the ritual. They didn’t speak again until they reached their bedroom.
“If this is it, Rachel, I want you to know that I have no regrets in my life. None. Things have not always been easy, but it’s all been worth it.”
With a sob, Rachel slid into her husband’s arms. “I have no regrets either. It’s been a beauti—”
