This is a fictional story. All names, places, and viruses are used fictitiously. Resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, past or present, are intentional.
If you haven’t read from the beginning, please start at Chapter 1 here.
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Due Date: 72 days away
We didn’t talk much that next morning. We stared out a window together. For a dozen blocks, downtown rose into the sky around us. From our perch, we could see roadblocks delineating the quarantined space. We could see self-appointed guards pacing the streets. We could see windows missing glass.
“If something ever happens to me, Kenneth—and hopefully it never comes to this—but if something ever happens to me, we need to have a plan for what you should do.”
We continued to gaze out the window for a moment.
“You have your phone?” I asked him. “Can I see it?”
He handed it to me.
“You’re keeping it charged. That’s good.”
I turned it over in my hand and popped the plastic case off. I pulled 10 twenty-dollar bills out of my wallet, folded them in half together, and packed them into the case behind the phone.
“Emergencies only,” I said. “And just so you know, I have a hundred stashed in my phone also. If something happens to me, take my phone too, if you can get it. It’s worth more than the money right now.”
I rummaged through our things and found some Post-In notes. I neatly wrote out two addresses.
“This is where papa lives.” I pointed to the first one. “Can you read it back to me?”
He did.
“Good. That’s where you want to go first.”
He thought about it. “How do I get there?”
“That’s the fun part.”
Down in the courtyard, I strapped Shepherd into his car seat and handed Kenneth the keys. I reviewed the basics with him, introduced the turn signal, and he got to put around the parking lot for half an hour or so.
“Want to try out on the road? It’s actually harder in tight spaces like this.”
“It was easier in the snow,” he said.
The past couple winters, I’d taken him to a large parking lot after a snow and let him have some fun. He was timid the first time, just sitting on my lap and steering. By the second year, he wanted to try the pedals too. I pushed the seat way up and let him go for it. Within an hour, he was cutting donuts into the lot like the best of them.
“Can’t be quite as reckless with other vehicles around,” I said.
He pulled up to the gate, it opened, and we made our way slowly onto the one-way street outside.
“Don’t forget your turn signal,” I said after we completed the right-hand turn.”
We circled around for about an hour. We only saw a handful of other vehicles on the road. Along the way, I pointed out the main street he’d need to use to get to the freeway.
“That’s the only safe way out of here right now,” I said. “We can’t practice on the freeway, which is a bummer, but I doubt there would be many people on it anyway. You could probably just drive your normal speed if you wanted to.”
Kenneth didn’t say much along the way, his eyes focused intently on the road. Pulling back into the castle lot, I asked him how he felt about it.
“What about mama?” he asked.
“She’s going to be all right,” I said.
“What if something happens to you—should I get mama?”
I let him finish parking and then turned to him in my seat.
“You won’t be able to get her.”
I turned back to looking straight out the windshield. In front of us, the stone walls of the castle felt cold. The sun didn’t shine on this side very often. Mold was taking over.
“She might get out soon anyway. But if you’re on your own with Shepherd, wear your hood up and sunglasses, of course your mask too. You don’t want anyone knowing you’re a kid, unless they have to. If anyone asks, tell them you’re going south, to quarantine out in the country. Don’t tell them about anything in the car or where you’re going. And don’t roll your window down. Talk through the glass. Like you’ve seen me do. If they won’t let you through, tell them you have the virus.”
We didn’t talk about mama at the hospital any more that day.
She was going to get out soon anyway.
