After an agonizing minute, the coughing stopped and he sat back and tried to control his quick breathing.
“You okay?” Jon asked tentatively.
“I’m dying,” he said sharply. “What part of that don’t you understand?”
“Yeah, but, I mean right now?” Jon asked nervously.
“No idea,” the old man said, testy. “If you know any different, please let me know.”
“Well, you don’t look so good,” Jon said.
Tori kicked Jon in the foot.
“Ow!” he complained. “He asked.”
Mr. Doyle finally gathered the strength to continue.
“I was in the basement with a technician when the lights went out. Some emergency lights came on so he could see to wheel me out, but when we got up here, they were all gone. Every last person.”
“Is that Paul?” I asked.
Doyle looked at me like I was insane and said, “No. Xavier’s his name. Paul is my son.”
At least that mystery was solved.
“He went outside to see what happened and found a couple of other survivors. I heard all about them black planes and about how they wiped away so many people. Do you have any idea why it happened? Or who’s responsible?”
I jumped in before anybody else could answer.
“No,” I said.
The others gave me a curious look, but I figured it would be cruel to tell him all that we knew. If he was really nearing the end of his life, he didn’t need to know how bad things really were with the world.
“What happened to Xavier?” Tori asked.
“He stuck around for a few days. Good fella. He felt responsible for me. But I convinced him he was wasting his time. He still has a life in front of him, so he set me up with some food and water and took off to find his family.”
“And you’ve been in here alone since then?” Tori asked. “That’s horrible.”
Doyle shrugged weakly. “I’m not just a cantankerous old coot. I really am dying.” He tapped his chest and said, “Congestive heart failure. I’ve been living with a time bomb for years now. Slowly getting weaker. Nothing anybody can do for it. I don’t mean to sound morbid, but given the state of things right now, I’d just as soon the old Reaper came for me sooner rather than later.”
I wanted to argue with him and tell him that he should fight until the end because life was worth living and all that, but given the state of things, it would have been a hard sell.
“What’s going on?” Kent asked as he hurried up to us.
He got a look at Doyle, and his eyes went wide.
“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Is he alive?”
“Yes, he’s alive,” Doyle snarled.
“Oh, sorry, dude,” Kent said. “No offense.”
“Hello?” Olivia called meekly.
She approached us cautiously. She spotted Doyle over Kent’s shoulder and—
“Boo!” Doyle barked.
Olivia gasped in surprise and took a quick step back.
Doyle laughed. He had a sense of humor.
Tori laughed too. I think she liked seeing Olivia look silly.
“Mr. Doyle is a patient here,” I explained.
“Oh,” Olivia said, embarrassed. “I’m sorry I screamed at you.”
“Don’t worry about it, missy,” Doyle said. “It was the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in years.”
“That’s just sad,” Kent said.
It was Kent’s turn to get a kick from Tori.
“Ow!”
“What are you kids doing here?” Doyle asked. “Where are your families?”
“That’s a very long story,” I replied. “We came from Pemberwick Island in Maine.”
“Then what’n hell are you doing in Springfield?” he asked.
“Good question,” Olivia answered.
“We’re going to Nevada,” Tori added with authority. “We hear there are a lot of survivors there.”
Doyle’s eyes suddenly went wide, as if he had sparked to an idea. He smiled, and for an instant I imagined I could see what he looked like when he was a younger man.
“Hey now, you’re not seeing a light at the end of the tunnel or anything, are you?” Kent asked nervously.
“I think I can help you,” Doyle said, suddenly enthused.
“Doubt it,” Kent said with disdain.
“Listen to me,” Doyle said. “Paul. My son. Paul Doyle. He’s the last family I’ve got. Just before I ended up here, he called me on the phone and said the strangest thing. He said he wanted me to go somewhere and meet him. Somewhere that was going to be safe. That’s what he said exactly, somewhere that was going to be safe. I had no idea what he was talking about. There wasn’t anything dangerous about my neighborhood. I’ve lived in the same house for sixty years. But he wouldn’t explain it any more than that. Said he was taking a big risk just telling me. He wanted me to get on a plane and join him. My son’s a practical fella. He’s not one for making up stories, so I was inclined to go. But my heart took a turn, and I landed here instead. The next day the attack came.”
“So Paul knew it was coming?” I asked.
“He must have!” Doyle said. “He knew it wouldn’t be safe here. He knew! I have to tell you, the only thing that’s keeping my mind at peace is knowing my son might still be alive and in a safe place.”
“Is your son in the Air Force?” Tori asked.
“Air Force?” Doyle scoffed. “Nah. He’s an architect. Builds homes. How would an architect know something like this would happen?”
That was a good question. I could ask the same thing about my parents. How did they know the attack was coming? Because they worked for SYLO, that’s why.
I asked, “Did he ever mention something called SYLO?”
Doyle frowned. “What kind of question is that? He’s not a farmer. I told you, he builds houses!”
“Did he tell you where the safe place was?” Jon asked.
“Kentucky,” Doyle replied. “He was going to pick me up at the airport in Louisville.”
“But he didn’t tell you exactly where it was?” Olivia asked.
“Said he couldn’t. It was some big secret. He begged me to come to him, promised me I’d be safe there . . . and that’s what I’m promising you.”
“Us?” Kent asked.
“Go to Kentucky,” Doyle begged. “Start at that airport and search for anything that might look like a safe haven. You’re just kids. If there’s any chance of getting somewhere safe, you should take it. Please. Promise me you’ll go.”
Doyle started breathing hard again as he got carried away with emotion. Tori took his shoulders and eased him back down onto the bed.
“We will,” she said. “We’ll go there.”
“We will?” Kent asked, confused. “I thought you wanted to go to—?”
It was Olivia’s turn to kick Kent.
“Ow!” he complained. “Stop that!”
“Good,” Doyle said. “Maybe that’s the reason I’m still here. Still alive. To give that message to you kids. To tell you about the safe haven.”
“Could be,” Tori said soothingly, as if she were talking to a child. “You did a really nice thing for us.”
“You’re good kids,” he said. “I want you to be safe. Tell my son that I sent you.”
He was starting to sound like a crazy old man again.
“We will,” Tori said. “We will. But you should relax now. You’re getting a little too excited.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right. Good idea.”
His breath quickened again as if he couldn’t get enough air to fill his lungs.
“I’m so tired,” he added. “Maybe I can sleep a little.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Tori said softly. “If you need anything, we’ll be close by.”
Doyle grabbed Tori’s hand and held it to his chest.
“Please, missy, promise me you’ll go.”
Tori hesitated, then said, “We’ll do our best.�
�
Doyle smiled. Her words were a genuine relief to him.
“Thank you,” he said.
“No, thank you, Mr. Doyle,” Tori replied. “You really helped us.”
“I did, didn’t I?” he said happily.
“Absolutely,” Tori assured him.
“That’s good. But I think I need a little shut-eye now.”
“Okay, we’ll see you in the morning,” Tori said gently.
She looked up and nodded for us to leave, so we all backed away from the old man to give him his privacy. I pulled the curtain, and we walked quietly to the far side of the emergency room, where we found a small office. No sooner was the door shut than—
“What a loon!” Kent exclaimed. “Was he, like . . . hallucinating?”
“Stop!” Tori said. “He’s sick.”
“He’s sick, all right,” Kent said with no compassion. “In the head.”
“What if he’s right?” Jon asked. “What if there’s a safe haven out there?”
“You believe that nutburger?” Kent asked, incredulous.
“Why would he lie?” Jon argued.
“I’m not saying he’s lying. I’m saying he’s out of his mind. He could have imagined all that.”
“And what if he didn’t?” I asked.
“No way, Rook,” Kent said quickly. “It’s a fairy tale.”
“Why are you so sure?” Olivia asked. “We believe some mysterious radio voice being broadcast from nowhere. Who’s to say what’s real and what isn’t?”
Kent had no comeback to that. None of us did.
“I’m too tired to think straight anymore,” I said. “Let’s ask him again in the morning and see if he has the same story.”
“So where do we sleep?” Olivia asked.
“There are plenty of beds in the emergency room,” I said. “Pick one.”
We shuffled out of the exam room slowly. Exhaustion had caught up with all of us.
I found an empty bed and sat down.
Tori stopped at the next bed over, looked at me, and kept moving.
“I’ll let Olivia take that one,” she said.
“Tori!” I called but didn’t have the energy to go after her.
All the guilty feelings came flooding back. It wasn’t the kind of drama I needed. None of us did. There were enough challenges ahead.
I lay down on the bed and sank into the mattress. It had been a very long day that started before dawn, when we followed the busload of victims being taken to Fenway Park. That felt like a hundred years ago.
My thoughts turned to the decision we would face the next day. Should we head to Nevada, or investigate this so-called safe haven in Kentucky? To decide, we had to face the future. What were we doing? Were we still on a mission to discover the truth about the war? Or was it now about finding a safe place to hole up until the dust settled?
What exactly was our goal?
I didn’t have that answer, but it didn’t stop me from wrestling with the question.
It seemed as though we all had different ideas. Olivia wanted to find a warm beach and play it safe. Kent would join her there in a second. I don’t know what Jon was thinking. His mind changed with the wind.
Tori was angry, and not just at me. She was all about finding people who were ready to fight back. But against whom? The Air Force or SYLO?
And me? I wanted my life back. But with each passing day, that seemed less likely. Part of me wanted to accept that fact and move on, but I couldn’t. My anger was growing too. Someone had to be held responsible. I needed to find out who that was. Would I have a better shot at that in Kentucky? Or Nevada?
My head was spinning with too many thoughts, which made falling asleep impossible, in spite of my exhaustion. I don’t know how long I had been lying there, maybe an hour, when I decided to get up and walk around in the hope of clearing my head. No sooner did I get up than I heard whispering coming from the far side of the emergency room. It seemed as though I wasn’t the only one who was having trouble nodding off, so I headed that way.
A camp light glowed from behind a drawn curtain where the voices were coming from. They were talking softly so as not to disturb anybody. It wasn’t until I was a step away from the barrier that I recognized the voices.
Tori and Olivia.
I froze. Those two never talked to each other. At least not as far as I knew. Olivia had taken care of Tori when she got shot, but since then there had been nothing but tension between the two, and I felt as though I was in the middle of it. Because I was. My instinct was to stop and listen to what they were saying before barging in on them.
“I can’t say enough about him,” Tori said softly. Her voice hitched with emotion. That wasn’t like Tori. She had to have been really upset to let her guard down like that, and in front of Olivia, no less.
“He took care of me when I was hurting and never asked for anything in return. I guess the best word to describe him is ‘selfless.’ He always thought of others before himself. I can’t imagine having anyone else in my life who could fill his shoes.”
I couldn’t believe it. She was talking about me! To Olivia. She really did have feelings for me. It was a great thing to hear at the end of an incredibly crappy day. My spirits were lifted instantly, though I wondered what Olivia’s comeback would be.
“I’m so sorry you lost him,” Olivia said with sincere sympathy.
Whoa. Had something been decided between the two? Was Tori professing her love for me as a way to congratulate the victor in the Tucker tug-of-war?
Olivia added, “I try to imagine that my own father was that kind of guy, but I never met him, so I’ll never know. I guess I’ll just have to pretend.”
Crash. Burn. Tori was talking about her father. I felt like an idiot. At least nobody knew I had jumped to such a dumb conclusion. Fool.
“Tell me about your mother,” Tori said, sniffing back tears.
Olivia took a sad breath and said, “We’re nothing alike. She’s always ready for an adventure, but I’d rather just hang out. It was her idea to come on this trip. I fought her. I really did. I didn’t want any part of Pemberwick Island, but she insisted. It’s the first thing I’m going to remind her of when I see her.”
“I like that,” Tori said.
“What?”
“You’re totally confident your mother is okay.”
Olivia chuckled. “I know she is. It’ll take more than a little genocide to stop her.” She sniffed. Olivia was crying too, but doing her best to hold it back. “I miss her. I wish we’d never come here. I don’t want any part of it anymore. I just want to go somewhere and hide until it’s all over.”
I saw the shadow of Tori leaning over to Olivia and giving her a hug. They were both holding back sobs. These two people couldn’t have been any more different from each other, but they were bonded by the loss of their family, their lives, and the danger that lay ahead. Who knew what would happen between them tomorrow, but for a short while at least they were able to give each other some comfort.
It felt wrong to be standing there. Not just because I was eavesdropping on a private moment, but because I had immediately assumed that they were talking about me. It made me feel small to think that that’s where my head went. I backed away, hoping they wouldn’t discover that I had been there.
I crept back to my bed without anybody knowing I had been up and about. In spite of the fact that I was reeling with too many thoughts, I finally fell asleep and didn’t wake up until early the next morning. The emergency room was still pitch-black. A quick look at my watch told me that it was six A.M. I sat up, stretched, and grabbed my headlamp.
Everyone was still asleep, and I wasn’t about to wake them. I thought of Mr. Doyle. The poor guy had been living in the dark for too long. Maybe Kent was right. He might have been hallucinating. I decided to check on him and make sure he had enough water.
I picked my way through the dark emergency room, following the beam of my headlamp. Strangely, I was getting
used to operating in the dark with only a narrow streak of light to see by. It was probably the way miners lived. I had no problem finding the exam area where we had left the old man.
“Mr. Doyle?” I whispered. “You awake?”
No response. I pulled the curtain aside to find him the way we had left him. Sound asleep. I didn’t want to wake him. He could get a drink later. I turned away and started for the exit to see if the sun was up when I realized that something felt off. It was the sound. Or the lack of sound. Mr. Doyle had trouble breathing, as if he was too weak to pull in enough oxygen. It was painful to hear his labored breaths.
But I didn’t hear them anymore.
I stepped back to him.
The bed was still up, which meant Mr. Doyle was in a near-sitting position. He lay perfectly still with his hands folded in his lap.
He wasn’t breathing.
I started to cry. I couldn’t help it. It seems odd to be bothered by the death of one old man when so many millions of people had been wiped out, but this was different. Mr. Doyle’s death had nothing to do with the war. He had reached the end of his life and left it naturally. It was a reminder that we were still human. In some odd way it gave me hope. No matter how badly things got messed up, life would continue. Unlike the death of Tori’s father and my own parents’ betrayal, Mr. Doyle’s death was one of the few things that made sense. He was an old man who died because he had a bad heart.
I reached for the blanket to cover his head. As I brought it forward, I saw that he was holding something in his hands. It was a piece of paper. Had he written a note before he died? I took it with two fingers and pulled it away from his lifeless hands to discover it was a small envelope with the hospital’s logo. There were two simple words on it, written by the weak hand of a dying man.
For Paul.
The envelope had weight. I opened it to find two rings inside: golden bands. One was large, the other small. Both were inscribed inside with the same date, January 24. I looked at Mr. Doyle’s left hand to see that his ring finger held no ring. My guess was that the larger ring was his wedding band. The other, I assumed, had belonged to his wife. The last act of his life was to try to make sure that they would get to his son. It was a very human act in a world that had become incredibly inhuman.
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