“So all I ask is that you hear me out, and then we’ll decide what to do. Together. Like free human beings.”
X
ONE MONTH LATER
ETHAN
There were still moments like this one, with the power back on and the smell of Theresa’s cooking emanating from the kitchen, when it all felt normal. Like it could’ve been any weeknight in Ethan’s life before.
Ben upstairs in his bedroom.
Ethan sitting in the study, jotting down notes for tomorrow.
Out the window, in the evening light, he could see Jennifer Rochester’s dark house. She’d been killed in the invasion and the recent cold had murdered her garden as well.
But the streetlamps were back on.
The crickets chirping through speakers in a distant bush.
He missed Hecter Gaither’s piano, the sound of it coming through the radios in all the houses of Wayward Pines.
Would’ve loved to lose himself in the music one last time.
For just a moment, sitting in the oversize chair, Ethan shut his eyes and let the normalcy wash over him.
Tried to push their fragility out of his mind.
But it wasn’t possible.
There was no coming to terms with the fact that he was a member of a species on the verge of extinction.
It filled every moment with meaning.
It filled every moment with horror.
He walked into the kitchen to the smell of pasta boiling and spaghetti sauce thickening.
“Smells amazing,” he said.
Moving up behind Theresa at the stove, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck.
“Last meal in Wayward Pines,” she said. “We’re going big tonight. I’m cleaning out the fridge.”
“Put me to work. I can wash those dishes.”
Stirring the sauce, she said, “I think it’s probably all right to leave them.”
Ethan laughed.
Right.
Of course it was.
Theresa wiped her eyes.
“You’re crying,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
He took hold of her arm and turned her gently around, and asked, “What is it?”
“I’m just scared is all.”
It was the last time they would sit together at this dinner table.
Ethan looked at Theresa.
At his son.
He stood.
He raised his water glass.
“I would like to say a couple words to the two most important people in my life.” Already his voice trembled. “I’m not perfect. In fact, I’m pretty far from it. But there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you, Theresa. And you, Ben. Nothing. I don’t know what tomorrow holds. Or the day after. Or the day after that.” He scowled against the gathering tears. “I’m just so grateful that we’re together in this moment.”
Theresa’s eyes glistened.
As he sat down, shaken, she reached over and took hold of his hand.
It was the last night he would sleep on a soft mattress.He and Theresa were intertwined, buried under a mountain of blankets.
The hour was late, but they were both still awake. He could feel her eyelashes blinking against his chest.
“Can you believe this is our life?” she whispered.
“Hasn’t set in yet. Don’t think it ever will.”
“What if this doesn’t work? What if we all die?”
“That’s a real possibility.”
“There’s a part of me,” she said, “that wants to play it safe. Maybe we do only have four years left. So, what if we make them great? Savor every moment. Every bite of food, every breath of air. Every kiss. Every day we aren’t hungry or thirsty or running for our lives.”
“But then we definitely die. Our species is finished.”
“Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing. We had our chance. We failed.”
“We have to keep trying. Keep fighting.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what we do.”
“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”
The door to their bedroom creaked open.
“Mom? Dad?” Ben’s voice.
“What’s up, buddy?” Theresa asked.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Come get in bed with us.”
Ben crawled across the covers and burrowed down between them.
“Is that better?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah,” Ben said. “Much better.”
They all lay in the dark, no one talking.
Ben dosed off first.
Then Theresa.
And still Ethan couldn’t sleep.
He sat up on one elbow and watched his family, watched them all through the night, until the sky lightened in the windows and dawn broke on their final day in Wayward Pines.
In every house throughout the valley, phones began to ring.
Ethan walked in from the kitchen holding a cup of black coffee and answered their rotary phone in the living room on the third ring.
Even though he knew the message that was coming, it still twisted his stomach up in knots as he held the receiver to his ear and listened to his own voice say, “People of Wayward Pines, it’s time.”
Ethan held the front door open for Theresa as she stepped out onto the porch carrying a cardboard box filled with framed photographs of their family—the only material possessions they had decided were worth taking.
It was a beautiful morning for leaving.
Up and down their block, other families were emerging from their houses, some carrying small boxes filled with their most precious belongings, others with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
The Burkes moved down the porch, through the front yard, and out into the street.
All the residents converged on Main and moved as one toward the forest on the southern outskirts of town.
Ethan spotted Kate up ahead, a backpack slung over her shoulder, walking with Adam Hassler.
Caught a stab of something he couldn’t quite wrap his head around, thinking maybe some emotions were too complex. But wherever this one fell on the color wheel, it was definitely in the neighborhood of nostalgia.
He let go of Theresa’s hand and said, “I’ll be right back.”
Ethan caught up with his former partner as the group walked past the Aspen House.
“Morning,” he said.
She glanced over, smiled. “Ready to do this?”
“It’s insane, right?”
“Little bit.”