Arena Three

It feels good to be on the move, to know my journey has finally begun. After all these months thinking about this moment, it has finally arrived. It’s especially great to be on the water, away from the cities and destruction. Out here, you can almost pretend the war didn’t happen.

The water sparkles beneath us as we cut through it at speed. I let it relax me. If it weren’t so cold, I’d almost be tempted to sunbathe.

“Take a look at that!” Ryan calls over his shoulder.

I sit up and see where he’s pointing. Up ahead are lots of small islands dotting the water. Some are filled with trees, like mini floating forests. Some are linked by bridges, now rusted and falling apart. On others there are houses; big, grand buildings that are beginning to crumble into the water.

“Did people live in those?” I say, surprised.

Zeke holds up the map and points to the St. Lawrence River, which we are currently sailing down. “Must be the Thousand Islands,” he says, tapping the blobs of green that run along the length of the river.

I watch, awestruck, as we weave in and out of the islands. I can’t even begin to imagine the sort of community that would have lived here, needing a boat to get to their neighbor’s house, or to the mainland for school and work. The houses are very plush, making me think that they must have been inhabited by rich people.

We pass a house that would have been a mansion in its heyday. It’s covered in thick ivy that strangles all the windows, turning it into something out of a children’s fairy tale. For a moment, I wonder what it would be like if we all pulled over and moved into one of these mansions, lived out our days here, in crumbling opulence. I wonder if anything inside is still intact. Chandeliers? Marble fireplaces? Priceless rugs? Antiques?

All of that, if not looted, would surely be ruined by now. We’d be living in a hull of a mansion, unheated, without food or running water. I shake my head. It is a mirage of opulence, a dream from another era.

“This is where the others should bring the survivors,” Molly says with a laugh. “Can you imagine?”

I cast my mind back to the moment we were rescued in the Hudson River. After our horrendous ordeal, finding Fort Noix was like stepping into paradise. But finding this place would have been like stepping into another world, a dreamland.

“Too bad we can’t go back and tell them about this place,” I say, with a hint of bitterness in my voice.

Molly picks up on my tone. “Are you pissed with the Commander for saying we can’t go back?”

I shake my head. For all his faults, the Commander really came through for me in the end. Without him we wouldn’t have the map or the boat.

“It’s not that,” I say, gazing out over the crystal blue water.

“Is it Bree?” Molly probes.

My heart squeezes at the memory of her watching me silently from the shoreline. She truly believes that I’ve left her forever. She has no faith in me to find our dad. In my mind, I’ll make it to Texas and send a radio transmission home, calling to her. Or drive one of the military tanks up and collect her myself. But in her mind, I’ve left her behind, just like I left Mom. Just like Dad left us. What she thinks I’ve done to her is unforgivable.

When I don’t say anything, Molly puts her arm around my shoulder. She holds me like that, not saying a word, just letting me be present in my pain.

Just then, the clouds start to darken.

“Looks like rain,” Zeke says, gazing at the sky.

We all look up at the graying clouds starting to crowd above us.

The boat is completely exposed. Depending on how bad the storm is, we could be soaked to the bone if we keep going. But I don’t want to have to stop so soon after leaving.

“Why don’t we stop off there?” Molly says, pointing up ahead to where an amazing castle stands on one of the tree-covered islands.

My mouth drops open. “It’s beautiful,” I gasp.

Ryan, at the helm of the boat, looks over at me and raises an eyebrow. “Well? Time for sightseeing?”

Just then, the rain begins to fall. It’s a cold, hard rain that lashes us.

“Pull over,” I say. “Let’s shelter in the castle.”

Molly pulls the line on her side, and we all duck as we tack and the boom swings, while Ryan steers us toward the little island that houses the castle. He steers us expertly to a stop by the small jetty.

Jack’s the first off the boat, jumping off and running onto the steady ground and barking his excitement. He pees, then rushes off toward the castle, taking in all the new smells of grass, mud, and stone.

Molly and I leap off while Zeke ties up the boat. As soon as he’s done, Ryan follows, and the four of us race into the castle.

We’re soaking wet by the time we’re inside. The castle has seen better days, and parts of the ceiling have caved in. Water drips down, pooling in the middle of the large, marble floor.

There’s a spiral staircase leading up, a broken piano in one corner of the hall, and a grandfather clock that’s no longer ticking. Black mold spots the walls and there’s a dank smell.

So much for my fantasy of opulence.