Morgan Rice: Arena Two

We have made it. We have survived.

I drive the boat all night long, standing at the wheel, while the others lie down, sleeping, as our boat bobs up and down on the currents. Every so often I can hear Charlie’s cries, and I have no doubt that he’s thinking of Flo. Bree leans cuddled with her arm around him, his head on her shoulder. The two of them are inseparable, and I think that if it weren’t for Bree, Charlie would be devastated right now.

I stare out at the blackness of the water, its foam racing past us as we go upriver – and all I see is Logan’s face. I see him in the water, drowning, reaching out for me. I see the whirlpool sucking him down. I see him asking for my help, and my being unable to give it. It tears me apart. Every time I close my eyes, I see his.

I feel that he is with me now, more than ever, that he is a part of me. I feel a burning desire to have him really here, with me, by my side. In some ways, it is the same burning ache I feel when I miss my dad. I want him here, too. To see everything I’ve accomplished. To be proud of me. To be a part of it all.

Ben, awake, walks up beside me and looks out at the water with me.

“I’m sorry about Logan,” he says softly, looking straight ahead.

“I am, too,” I answer.

“I can’t believe we made it,” he says. “I was sure we were dead. That was good thinking back there.”

“We haven’t made it yet,” I caution.

“But we’ve been driving for hours,” he says. “No one’s following us. They have no idea. They won’t know until morning. And by the time they find out, we’ll be at least a day ahead of them.”

I shrug, thinking back to all the trials we’ve been through, and knowing that means nothing.

“I’m not worried about them,” I say, thinking about it. “I’m more worried about what lays ahead.”

Ben searched the boat earlier, and found nothing – no food, no supplies, no weapons. We are all starving, exhausted, and freezing cold. And the further north we get, the colder it grows. The river is already freezing up in places. I look down at the gauge, and see we’re burning fuel fast. We can’t keep this up much longer. By sunrise, I estimate, will be completely out of gas, and once again, free-floating, at the mercy of whatever sick predators are out there.

I want to relax, to kick back and think that we found comfort, that everything’s going to be okay. But this time, I feel no security. Only a sense of anguish. Of needing to survive.

In some ways, Logan and Flo are the lucky ones. They’re out of the game. Now, they have no worries.

“Well, we came this far,” Ben says, “and I’m proud of you.”

He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. It feels good, and I don’t want him to stop, or to go away. But he does. He quickly retreats, and I wonder if we will be close again. Like we were that night.

“Want me to take the wheel?” he asks.

I shake my head no.

He nods, and goes back to his side of the boat.

As I stand there, staring out at the night, I wonder again how all of this will end. I think about that town, that mythical perfect town, somewhere north, in Canada. I guess that’s why I’m heading North, unconsciously – to fulfill Logan’s dream. To see if it’s all true. I know in my mind that it’s probably not. But I’ve finally learned something: we need to have hope. Without hope, we have nothing.

The sun rises, and I crack open my eyes. We are bobbing, free-floating in the water, our boat adrift in the middle of the Hudson. We are all huddled together, under a single thin blanket, lying down under the open sky. Penelope lies still in Bree’s lap.

The boat ran out of gas hours ago, late in the night. But we all remember, what happened to us back there, the last time we left the boat, none of us want to abandon the boat. So we all instead huddled together, and let the current take us aimlessly down the river.

We traveled for hours last night, and everywhere, there was nothing but a desolate wasteland. No towns, no humanity. In this cold, without warmth or food, we can’t survive much longer.

I’ve been dreaming, peaceful dreams for a change. When I open my eyes, I see the sky flooded with pinks and purples, I’m not sure if I’m awake or asleep.

I’m so weak from hunger, so tired, so cold, I can’t even get up. Neither can the others. We are all frozen here, together. I know we will all die here. And finally, I’m ready to accept it. At least we are free. At least we are dying on our own terms.

I open my eyes more, and realize I’m awake. I see a world flooded with soft pinks and purples and muted colors, and it is the most beautiful breaking sky I have ever seen.

As I look up, at the river, I see something, and I am sure I’m hallucinating. I see our boat moving, upriver, against the current. It’s impossible.

I see a beautiful, shining white boat in front of us, tugging us, pulling us slowly upriver. We drift gently, being pulled, somewhere north, by this beautiful boat. The wind strokes my hair gently, and as I lean up, I see it pulls us through huge, shining golden gates in the river.

As we go, I see dozens more boats, all shining white, everything perfectly new – and behind them, on either side of the river, I see a beautiful shining city. Everything intact. Stores. Sidewalks. People. Cars. Everything perfect. Immaculate. Clean. Happy. People sitting in cafés, laughing. Mothers strolling with their daughters on cobblestone streets. The mythical city.

I force open my eyes, ask myself if this is perhaps my final dream before I die. I’m not sure, but I can’t help feeling that I’m awake. That this is real. That we have found it.

And that everything is going to be okay.