The sailboat is where I left it, tied up to the dry dock.
On the boat, Aiden looks a little anxious. “I don’t know anything about sailing.”
“It’s easy. You only need a few principles. I’ll give you a crash course.”
“Hopefully, no crashing involved.”
I let out a little laugh. “You’ll do fine.”
After we navigate the boat to open water, I show Aiden the lines that raise and lower the different sails and how to tweak them. He picks it up immediately. With the mainsail raised, it cracks and whips in the wind until Aiden adjusts the trim. The sail catches the wind just right, making a satisfyingsnap.
“Awesome.” Aiden has a broad smile.
“See? You’re a natural.”
I give Aiden a quick tour of the rest of the lines, showing him the genoa sail and how to tack and jibe. He picks it all up quickly. It’s important that he knows all the basics. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be of much help. The work to get the boat going has tired me out, and my face is flushed, with heat radiating from me. I bury the fear and focus on our task at hand.
The chill bites into me as we cruise through the water, so I put on a sweatshirt and settle down on a bench in the cockpit. Aiden is at the helm. The wind pushes his hair back. His eyes dart back and forth between the mainsail and the genoa. He makes minor course corrections and an occasional tug on a line. He’s a joy to watch, even in my rapidly deteriorating state of mind. He’s instantly talented at whatever he does. I love him so much.
We’re making good time. The wind has held up, and we’ve been averaging just over seven knots. At that rate, it should take about four hours to get to our destination. We’re headed north along a long narrow waterway between Vashon Island and Seattle. Small houses tucked into the trees dot the landscape. Occasionally, a house built too close to the shoreline is half-submerged below the new waterline. It’s a surreal sight.
“Hey, Aiden. Remember one thing I wished we could do from before the Great Collapse?”
“What was that?”
“Going sailing.” I wave my hands around.
Aiden looks at me with a little laugh. “I have to admit, it’s pretty nice. But it doesn’t beat ice cream, does it?”
“I can’t argue there. I could really use some ice cream now.”
We both laugh, but a lone tear runs down Aiden’s cheek. He wipes it away quickly.
We’ve been sailing for a few hours, and I’m feeling worse by the minute. My coughing comes back in fits and starts, chills run throughout my body, and I’m shivering and sweating at the same time.
I’m hopeful we’ll find the bunker, and they can make a cure, but it feels like a long shot. I don’t know how much time I have left, and there are things I need to say to Aiden. I pause for a moment before I speak, choosing my words carefully.
“Aiden?”
He looks away from the water, and when his eyes meet mine, he can tell something’s up. “Yeah?” he asks tentatively.
“I have some things I need to tell you. Before it’s too late.”
He opens his mouth, about to say something, but then shuts it with sad nod. He looks as if he’s dreading what I’m about to say.
“If, for whatever reason, we don’t find a cure…”
Aiden’s face starts to crumple. “Zach—”
“Aiden. Please. I need you to hear me. If I make it through the fever—if I live through it, you have to—” What I’m saying feels surreal, like someone else is speaking. “I don’t want to live as one of them. Do you understand?”
Aiden wraps his arms around me, crying, and chokes out a reply. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“I need you to, Aiden. Please.”
He nods into my shoulder and whispers a simple reply, “Okay.”
“One more thing I have to tell you.” I look deep into his silver eyes and calm descends over me. I cup my hand on his cheek. “I love you.”
