The hollow feeling grew in my chest every time I mentioned his name. It must have shown on my face. Margie asked, "Her father?"
"Yes." I didn't hesitate. Not by blood, but by all rights, at least in my opinion. "How was Micah, when you saw him?"
"He seemed…distracted. Perhaps even conflicted. Very antsy. Gave us the feeling there wasn't much time left."
"Until what?"
Margie shrugged. "We don't know. He never actually said."
I frowned. As far as I was concerned the worst already happened. Shawn's EMP went off, throwing much of the world back into the dark ages. One Less was quick to shut down any signs of progress. He still had to be stopped, but I was not sure what else Shawn could be up to, besides maintaining status quo.
Bee's snoring caused us both to look down.
"My daughter used to…" Margie trailed off.
That’s interesting.
"You have a daughter?" Bobby was the only one introduced as their child. It dawned on me, "Oh. You had a daughter," I said, in a much softer voice.
She nodded.
"I'm sorry," I said. I wasn't going to be making any friends by bringing up people's dead children.
She took a deep breath, and stretched out her neck. "Robert and I only recently got married. I did it more out of necessity than anything else. He is a good…protector. Well – at least until you scorched his arrows." The corner of her mouth turned up in a teasing smile. "Anyway," she continued, "Bobby’s my stepson. My husband of fifteen years, and my eight-year-old daughter, both died after Daybreak."
"Were they on a plane?" I remembered the one that had almost fallen on us, right outside the caves in Kentucky.
She shook her head. "No. We all got sick. Some kind of infection. I survived; they didn't. It was long enough after Daybreak that the pharmacies and hospitals had been wiped clean. Medicine was horded by those hoping to profit. I gave away everything I had, including my body, to try to get what they needed. Problem was, I had no idea what would help. I didn't find out fast enough."
My mouth hung open. Here she was, losing her family because there was no medicine to cure what might have been a basic infection, and we complained about no running water. "I'm so sorry," I said again. There really wasn't much else to say.
"It's not your fault," she said, looking down again at Bee. Little did she realize, it was my fault. Partially, anyway. I had the power to stop Shawn, but I had gotten there too late. My stomach lurched. I didn’t want to be in this canoe anymore, sitting face to face with a woman whose husband and child I had killed.
I looked up at her again, for the first time seeing the subtle red streaks in her hair. I imagined them on a little girl in pigtails. Acid rose up into my throat. I leaned over the side and threw up. The edge of the boat tipped dangerously close to the surface of the river. Margie threw her weight to the other side to compensate, rocking the canoe even further. There was a split second of heart-stopping realization, and then we were all tossed into the icy Ohio River.
I reached for Bee, latching on and squeezing as tight as I could. We went under, but my head popped above the surface almost right away. I pulled with my arms, dragging Bee's weight up. Several agonizing seconds later, the bag of potatoes my arms were wrapped around came up.
"SUSAN!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. I heard splashes and shouting above the ring of panic in my ears. Susan was already in the water, by my side. She paused, closing her eyes and concentrating. Without a word, she jumped, piked her body and dove under. I tried to follow, but the water was murky. The sight of Susan's kicking feet disappeared in no time.
I came up for air. Margie hadn't resurfaced either. A horrible thought hit me. What if she did know how responsible I was for her husband’s and child's deaths, and she was seeking revenge?
Without thinking, I sent blasts of air into the river. They were strong enough to create large but temporary divots in the water. There was still no sign of Bee – or Susan or Margie. I continued to tread water, shooting more divots and pulling at the river.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex's canoe pass. He searched the water, then paddled forward and searched again.
"You dumped a quarter of our food!" Robert's gruff voice was just behind me. "And my wife!"
My lip curled in a snarl. I shot another hole in the river, trying to tune him out.
I scanned the river. A few of our supplies had popped up to the surface, much further downstream. Despite the calm surface, the undertow was strong. It was possible Bee had gotten picked up by it. Alex was still in his canoe. He threw his oar into the boat, and reached down into the water, grabbing at something.