I pull her into my arms again and hold on tightly, while Charlie’s arms circle tightly around my waist.
“You’re bleeding, Brooke,” he says, sounding worried for me.
“I’m fine,” I say, touching my wound as I remember the bullet that whizzed past my cheek and saved my life, the bullet that was shot by Ben.
I look over the children’s huddled figures at Ben, who is standing a few paces back from the rest of us.
“How did you…” I begin, a million questions entering my mind, not even knowing what to say next.
“We begged the Commander for another boat,” Ben said. “We had a feeling you might need us.”
I smile.
“Nice shot,” I say, knowing full well that it’s the first he’s made since that day at the outpost when his PTSD stopped him dead in his tracks.
Ben looks at me intently with his soulful blue eyes. “I don’t know how,” he says. “But when I saw that you were in danger I could just suddenly shoot again.” He sounds confused, like he doesn’t fully understand it himself.
“Well, I’m glad,” I say. “And I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” he says quietly.
Just then, the other three come over. Everyone hugs, shakes hands, pats each other on the back. But my joy and relief are only short-lived as I remember Emmanuel and our boat.
“What do we do now?” I say.
We all look at Ben’s boat. It’s even smaller than the one the Commander gave us, and there’s no way we’ll fit comfortably in there. And they don’t have any supplies or weapons to speak of.
But we have no choice. The seven of us huddle into the boat, the two dogs squeezing in too. It might be cramped but the important thing is that we’re all together. Everyone I love is in this boat. Everyone but one person… Dad.
“I’m coming, Dad,” I whisper under my breath.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The boat, its engine off, now at full sail, sways and lurches in the water as Zeke consults the map.
“We’ve reached Lake Ontario,” he announces.
I look out, as do the others, shocked by the sight ahead. It looks more like an ocean. The waves are huge and rock our overcrowded boat violently. I cling on for dear life, praying that after surviving an attack from crazies we don’t meet our doom in the water. I would hate to drown like Logan.
The rain is still pounding and we’re all completely soaked and shivering. But we need to keep going, plowing onward, putting as much distance between us and the crazies as possible.
The entire way I kept my eyes peeled for the crazies, for our old boat, for Emmanuel, desperate to save him. But to my horror and guilt, they were nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, a sound dawns on me, one that had been nudging at my consciousness and growing louder with each minute.
“Uh-oh,” Zeke says. “Looks like danger ahead.”
I huddle forward and peer at the map. He’s pointing to something. I read Niagara Falls.
“Oh,” I say, apprehensively.
That was the sound: rushing water, distant, yet growing closer.
It’s a testament to the dangers of the cities that the Commander and General Reece thought it would be safer to direct us via Niagara Falls than have us go by foot for any significant portion of the journey.
“What do we do?” Ryan asks.
“It’s the only way to get into Lake Erie,” I reply. “Toledo is on its west bank. We’ll just have to be careful.”
The tension is unbearable. Not only do we have poor weather and overcrowding to contend with, but now we have to maneuver past a waterfall. I feel Bree’s small, cold hand slip into mine.
“It will be okay,” I say. Then I look up at Ryan, who is steering the boat. “Won’t it?”
He nods grimly, his expression not exactly filling me with confidence.
“We don’t have much gas,” Ryan adds. “And we’ll need as much power as possible to counteract the force of the falls, to get us to shore before we go over.”
“Use it all if you have to,” I tell him. “We can sail the rest of the way. Just don’t let us go over.”
He turns back to the tiller, his features transforming into complete concentration. I hold Bree close to me and whisper a silent prayer under my breath. She nuzzles her head into my chest and squeezes her eyes shut. Penelope sits in her lap, shivering from the rain.
The boat chugs along, churning up water as we go. Ryan steers us smoothly along, trying not to fight the power of the water while also using it to push us forward. I can hear the engine struggling in the choppy water, and then a new noise makes me even tenser. It’s the rising sound of the waterfall, of thousands of liters of water plummeting down a cliff face, crashing on the rocks. And we’re heading right toward it.
I grip the sides of the boat even tighter. Beside me, Molly is doing the same. Zeke has practically turned green. In complete contrast to the others, Ben sits serenely, his gaze locked on me. I can’t help but feel calmed by his presence. We’ve gone through so much together and are still standing; it’s almost like he’s a good-luck talisman. He nods as if to say, “We’ve got this. We’ve been through worse.” Despite my fear, I find myself smiling back at him.
The boat carries on forward and the sound of the waterfall grows even louder. The amount of water spray kicked up by the power of it is immense. It drenches us as much as the rain.
The sound and feel of the engine beneath me changes. I look over to Ryan and see that he’s giving the boat more power. And that means that the pull of the waterfall is starting to take effect. I can’t help but visualize our little boat being sucked into the stream and splintering to a thousand pieces on the rocks on the way down.
I catch my first glimpse of the waterfall’s edge. How strange to think of all the tourists who gathered here and took tour boats across the water. They will all be dead now, all those people whose lives consisted of day trips to beauty spots. They could never have imagined as they stood here looking at the breathtaking sight of nature at its finest that in a few hundred years our species would have almost entirely annihilated itself.
I push the thoughts from my mind and keep my gaze on the lip of the waterfall as we skim past it. I feel like every muscle in my body has tensed up and that I’ve turned to rock. I’ve never been at someone’s mercy like this. It’s almost unbearable. Usually when I’m in danger I know I can fight and get myself out of it. Now, I have nothing to do but hope and wish and pray we make it out the other side.
The end of the waterfall’s rim is just in sight.
And then a strange putt-putt-putt noise makes me frown. I look at Ryan. His expression instantly tells me it is bad news.
“The engine,” he says. “We’re running out of gas.”
As soon as he says it, the whirring of the propeller starts to slow. Instantly, the power of the waterfall can be felt beneath us. The boat starts to be pulled toward it by the force.
“ROW!” I scream. “EVERYONE! NOW!”
We grab the oars from beneath the seats and frantically begin rowing. My arms ache with the power of my movements. I grit my teeth with determination and put everything I’ve got into forcing the boat away from the waterfall’s edge. But despite all our strength, we continue to veer closer and closer to the rim.
There’s just five meters or so to push through before we clear the edge. The engine hasn’t died yet and Ryan’s able to keep it turning over, giving us just a fraction more power.
“Head for the shore!” I cry to Ryan.
With the combined efforts of all of us, and what little power we have left in the engine, we manage to just reach the shore.
I heave a sigh of relief, as do the others, all of us drenched.