With my camp set up, I settle down with the pad of paper, the encrypted code, and local maps, and I try to find some clue or pattern to reveal the bunker’s new location.
Zach’s life depends on it.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Black Sun
ZACH
Cough…cough…cough…
I wake up with a start, hacking. For a moment, I forget where I am. But a quick look around reorients me. I’m lying on my old bed in my childhood bedroom. Posters of Tom Holland as Spider-Man and classic movies likeStar WarsandJawsfill my walls. Then, the fate of my parents and Felix returns, and the pain comes rushing back.
But another fit of coughing interrupts my thoughts. There’s a tickle in the back of my throat. I’ve learned through the years that I’m a hopeless hypochondriac. Every sore throat and cough doesn’t mean I’m sick. I shake off the worry and get out of bed.
I’m glad I have a purpose today. Find James and deliver Curtis’s letter. Retracing my steps, I head to the sailboat moored to our half-submerged beach staircase and start on the trip back across Puget Sound.
Overall, I’m finding the effort of sailing much more taxing today than yesterday. I probably needed a better breakfast. I’m winded and sweating a bit when I finally get to shore. The breeze blows through and gives me the chills. I rub my torso to warm up but find it doesn’t help much, so I put on a light jacket from my pack.
My destination is Capitol Hill, just east of downtown Seattle. I weave the bike through back roads and side streets, trying to find a way free of water and obstructions. It takes some time, but soon I’m heading north on I-5.
As I approach, the devastation of downtown becomes more apparent. Seeing how fragile these giant skyscrapers are is startling. Toppled buildings have flattened entire city blocks, and towers have collapsed into each other. Some stand precariously as if a strong enough wind could knock them over.
I scan the freeway ahead. One building has fallen onto the lanes, forever blocking the progress north. I take the next exit and head the rest of the way via surface streets.
I’m thankful for the motorcycle. In remote rural areas, the Infected are rare. But driving through the city, it’s not uncommon to see movement on either side of me. The occasional figure chases after me down the road. Quick acceleration is all it takes to lose them, but it still makes my pulse skyrocket every time it happens, and I keep a vigilant eye.
When I finally arrive on a tree-lined street in front of a classic craftsman house, I double-check the address in Curtis’s letter. It matches up.
I’m hit with a pang of sadness as I head to the porch. Aiden and I had planned to deliver this note together. It feels wrong doing it without him. I miss him deeply.
I knock on the door. No answer. Reaching for the knob, I find the door unlocked. The air is stale, but there’s no hint of death. I spot some old mail on the dining room table. The letters are addressed toJames Nguyen. This confirms I’m at the right place.
Searching for any signs of life, I spot framed photographs on the fireplace mantle. Many are of two elderly men. Some with their arms around each other, some surrounded by other people. In all the photos, they are smiling and happy.
And then, one photo catches my eye. I recognize a familiar face standing with one of the two men from the other photos. Both are considerably younger in the photo, but one is unmistakably Curtis. He looks so happy. They both do. A tear streaks down my cheek, and I wipe it away.
After searching the entire house and finding nothing, I head out to the backyard. There, I find what I was worried I might discover. In the middle of the lawn, there’s a mound of dirt. Grass grows over it, but it’s clearly a grave and, at the top, a makeshift cross. Somebody has writtenJamesacross it. I let out a deep sigh as more tears flow down my cheeks. I so hoped I might find James alive.
All I wanted was to deliver this letter for Curtis. To do this one thing he asked me to do. James and I could have shared memories of Curtis together. And there might have been one person I’d have some connection to. Instead, like everywhere else, I only find death.
Tears drip on Curtis’s letter, making the ink run in black streaks. I contemplate burning it and spreading the ashes over James’s grave. That would be the respectable thing to do, but I miss Curtis too much. With some trepidation, I open the envelope and read it, hoping to have this one last connection.
It’s a beautiful letter filled with loving memories of a better time between James and Curtis. As I read the words, I’m overcome with melancholy joy at their wonderful life together, but a life that was interrupted. When I get near the end, a particular passage stands out.
As I recall all these beautiful memories with you, James, I have only this one regret. I couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive you in time, even though I knew you did what you did from a place of love. Forgiveness is a cornerstone of love. By not understanding that soon enough, I lost you. But I never stopped loving you. And I hope you can say the same about me.
As I read the words, it’s as if I’m reading about Aiden and myself. There’s a lump in the back of my throat.
Oh god.
I can’t make the same mistake.
I love Aiden so fiercely it hurts, and having him gone only amplifies that hurt. I reread the letter he wrote at the dam.
Why do I keep torturing myself like this?
As I read the letter, I’m hit by longing and anger. But when I get to the end, my jaw drops open.
