"I caught the train my brother was on," Ben says, "and it took me deep in the tunnels. It stopped at a huge mining station, deep underground. Hundreds of boys chained together, working like slaves. I looked everywhere for him. Everywhere. But I couldn't find him."
He sighs.
"I snuck up to one of the boys and asked him. I hid in the shadows as he asked around. I described him perfectly. Finally, word got back to me. They said he was dead. They were positive. They saw one of the slaverunners get mad at him for not moving fast enough, and they said they beat him with a chain. They saw him die."
There is a long silence, and then a muffled cry, and I see Ben wiping away his tears. I hardly know what to say. I can't comprehend the guilt he must feel.
"I never should have left him alone," Ben says. "Back in the mountains. I left him alone, just for an hour. I didn't think they'd come. I hadn't seen them in years."
"I know," I say. "I never thought they would, either. But it's not your fault. They are to blame, not you."
"The worst part of all of this is not seeing it for myself," Ben says. "Not seeing him dead. Not knowing for sure. I can't explain it, but I don't believe he's dead. A part of me still thinks those boys might have mixed him up with somebody else. I know him. He wouldn't die. Not like that. He's strong. Smart. Smarter than me, stronger than me. And tougher than me. I think he escaped. I really do. I think he worked his way back up the river. I think he's going to come back to our house, and wait for me there. Back in the mountains."
I look at Ben and see a frenzied look in his eyes, and realize that he has taught himself to believe this fantasy. I don't want to ruin his fantasy. I don't want to tell him that that is nearly impossible. Because in this day and age, we all need our dreams, as much as we need food or water.
"Do you think?" he asks, looking right at me. "Do you think he's still alive?"
I don't have the heart to say no.
So instead, I look back at him, and say, "Anything is possible."
Because a part of me knows that it's not helpful to live in fantasy - but another part of me has learned that, sometimes, fantasy is all you have.
I open my eyes, disoriented. I don't understand what's happening. The floor of the cave is lined with thousands of brightly colored flowers, purple and whites and pinks. I look down and see I am lying on a bed of flowers, see sunlight pouring into the cave. Outside, it is warm, balmy, a beautiful spring day, with gentle breezes coming off the river. Beyond the entrance to the cave I see lush trees, flowers everywhere, birds chirping. The sun is so bright and strong, it is like a light shining in from heaven. As I look all around me, I notice there is a soft white glow in the air; a great sense of peace has come over me.
I sit up and see, standing before me, Rose, light radiating behind her. To my shock, she looks perfectly healthy and happy now, a big smile on her face.
She steps forward and wraps her arms around me in a huge hug. She kisses my cheek and whispers: "I love you, Brooke."
I pull her back and look at her and kiss her on the forehead, so happy to see her healthy again.
"I love you, too," I say.
I can feel the warmth and love radiating off of her. She slowly pulls away. I tried to hold onto her, but she releases my hands, and I feel her slipping away.
"Rose?"
Before my eyes she starts to float away. She drifts up into the air, smiling down at me.
"Don't worry," she says. "I'm happy now."
She becomes more and more translucent, until she blends into the light. She floats up out of the cave, outside, into the sky, higher and higher, all the while, her face looking down at me, smiling. I can feel the intense love from her, and I feel just as much love for her. I want to hold her, I don't want her to go. But I feel her leaving.
I wake, looking all around in the cave. I wonder if I'm dreaming this time, and it takes me a minute to realize that this time, I'm truly awake.
Sunlight floods the cave, and it is much warmer than yesterday. The snow is piled high but already melting, and light bounces off of it. I remember being up all night with Rose; she was shaking, trembling, burning up from fever all night long. But I didn't let her go. I rocked her and whispered in her ear that everything would be okay.
Now I look over, and see that Rose is still in my arms. I slowly lean back, look at her - and my heart freezes to see that her eyes are open. Frozen open. I watch for several seconds, before I realize that she is dead.
I look around and see everyone sleeping, and realize I'm the first one to wake.
I hold Rose tight, rocking her, my eyes flooding with tears. Penelope, in her lap, whines and whines, and begins to bark. She licks Rose's hand, and barks again and again.
Others in the cave wake. Bree wakes and hurries over, and I brace myself. She leans over and looks down at Rose's face. And then suddenly, her face crumples into tears. She starts hysterically crying.
"ROSE!" she wails. She wraps her arms around her, holding her tight. She sobs and sobs.
Ben and Logan sit up and look over, grave expressions on their faces. I see Logan wipe away a tear then turn, not wanting me to see.
Ben, though, lets the tears fall freely from his face. I feel the wet on my cheeks, and realize I'm still crying, too. But, strangely, I also feel a sense of peace. My dream had been so real, so vivid - I feel like it really happened, that Rose was actually with me. I feel that she really said goodbye, and that she's in a peaceful place now.
"I dreamt of her," I say to Bree, trying to console her. "I saw her. She was happy. And smiling. She's in a good place now. She's happy."
"How do you know?" Bree asks.
"She told me. She's happy. She loves you."
This seems to make Bree feel better. Her crying slows, and she gently pulls back.
I look outside, and realize we'll never be able to bury Rose in this weather. Even with this warmer day, the ground, I'm sure, will be frozen solid. It will have to be a river burial.
I figure that the sooner we do it the better. We have to move on. We need to move on.
"Do you want to help carry her?" I ask Bree, wanting to involve her.
I stand, grab Rose's arms, and let Bree take her legs. Together, we walk her out of the cave. Ben and Logan and Penelope follow.
We walk out into the soft snow, up to my calves, into the shining light, and I am momentarily blinded. It is like a summer day. Birds are chirping, it is probably twenty degrees warmer, and much of the snow has melted. The storm has passed. It is as if it never was.
Penelope gets lost in the thick snow, and Logan reaches down and lifts her.
"Where are we bringing her?" Bree asks.
"We can't bury her," I say. "The ground is frozen, and we don't have any shovels. We'll have to bury her in the river. I'm sorry."
"But I don't want to put her in the water," Bree says, her face crumpling up as she begins to cry again. "I don't want her to be eaten by fish. I want to bury her here, on this island."
Logan, Ben and I all exchange a worried look. I don't know what to say. I understand how she feels. And I don't want to make things even worse for her. Then again, it's just not practical. But knowing Bree, she won't give in. I need to find an alternate solution.
I look out at the river, and am struck with an idea.
"What about the ice?"
Bree turns and looks out at the river.
"See those huge floating chunks of ice? What if we place Rose on one of those? Let it carry her downriver? She will float away, carried on the ice. Like an angel, floating away. Eventually the ice will melt, and the river will take her. But not yet."
I brace myself, hoping Bree will agree.
To my great relief, slowly, she nods back in agreement.
We all walk down to the water's edge, and as we get close, I watch and wait for one of the occasional large blocks of ice to float down river. They are far and few between, but occasionally, they do come. One floats by, but it is a good fifteen feet out in the water - there's no way I can reach it.
We wait and wait, and finally, one huge block of ice, about six feet long, breaks off from the others and drifts our way, as if being led by a magical current. It is a couple of feet out in the water, and just as I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to wade out and get it while holding Rose, suddenly Ben and Logan take action. They hurry past me, wading out into the water, each grabbing one end of it. Their boots get soaked and I'm sure the river is freezing, but they bear it stoically. It is nice to see them working together for a change.
They pull the ice close to shore, and together, we all set Rose down on it. She looks like an angel lying on top.
While we hold the ice, Bree stands over her, looking down.
"I love you, Rose," she says.
Penelope barks.
Finally, after several minutes of silence, Bree steps back. The four of us gently push the huge block out into the river.
We all stand on shore and watch as the block of ice catches in the current and begins to float away, down river, Rose's tiny body spread out on it. I was right: she does look like an angel, floating there amidst all that white. I hope that wherever she's going, she's going to a place of peace.
Logan is already eyeing our boat. He goes over to it, and starts scooping the snow out, preparing.
"We should go now," he says, getting the snow out with both hands, wasting no time.
"I want to leave, too," Bree says. "I hate this place. I never want to come back here."
"Go where exactly?" Ben asks. I'm surprised. It's the first time he's asked about any of our plans, or shown any concern.
"What do you care?" Logan snaps. "You haven't said anything before."
"Well, I'm saying something now," Ben says. I can feel the tension between them.
"We're heading north," Logan answers. "Like we always have. To Canada."
"There are four of us here," Ben says. "And I don't want to go to Canada."
Logan looks at him, dumbfounded. I am shocked, too.
"Like you said, there are four of us," Logan says. "That means majority rules. I want to leave, and so does Bree. That's two of us. Brooke?" he asks, looking at me.
Actually, now that he asks me, I'm not so sure. A part of me feels that we have a good thing going on this little island. It's hard to get to, hard to be ambushed. We have a cave, shelter from the wind and elements. A part of me wonders if we can live here. It would be boring, but safe, protected. When we run out of food, we could take the boat to shore and hunt. Capture food, bring it back here. And maybe we could farm something here in the summer. And fish.
I take a deep breath, not wanting to cause a rift.
"I don't know what's out there," I say. "It might be safer to continue north. But it might be more dangerous. Personally, I think it might be safest to just stay here. I don't see why we should be in such a rush to leave. I don't see how the slaverunners can find us here. If you're worried about their spotting the boat, we can drag it ashore, hide it in the trees. I think it can get a lot worse for us out there. I vote we stay put."
Logan looks blindsided.
"That's ridiculous," he says. "We'll be out of food in days. Maybe we can find more, maybe survive here a few weeks. Then what? The slaverunners are still after us. And this is just a measly strip of land. What if there's a city out there? A real city, that has everything we need to live forever?"
"We have everything we need right here," I say. "Food. Shelter. Safety. What more do we need?"
Logan shakes his head. "Like I said, majority rules. I vote to leave. So does Bree. You vote to stay. Ben?"
"I vote to leave, too," Ben says.
I'm surprised by this.
Logan smiles. "There you have it," Logan says. "We're leaving."
"But I vote to head south," Ben adds.
"South?" Logan asks. "You crazy?"
"I want to go back to my old house," Ben says. "In the mountains. I want to wait there for my little brother. He might come back."
My heart falls to hear this. Poor Ben, clinging to his fantasy.
"There's no way we're going back there," Logan says. "You had your chance. You should've said something before."
"Do what you want," Ben says. "I'm going back home."
The four us stand there, at a standstill. There is no majority vote here. All of us are torn, all wanting something else, none giving an inch.
Suddenly, a cracking noise pierces the air. A tree branch falls right near us, and it takes me a moment to figure it out. The noise comes again, and another branch falls, and that's when I realize: it was a gunshot. We are being fired upon.
