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Back 3 a.m.
Chapters (67)
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  67. 3:46 a.m.

“I got to know, you know. I got to know if my mom is this monster. That’s not all. My dad. If my mom is this monster, then where is he? He isn’t picking berries for me in Alaska, that’s where. And guess what he has in his basement. Well, you would never guess. You couldn’t, Opik. You could never guess what is in my dad’s basement. It’s a hobby cemetery. It’s where hobbies go to die. Kites. Drones. Magic. Those stupid boats with the glass in them. Boats with glass in them. Glass with boats in them, I mean.

“What was I telling you — oh, these boxes. My dad has these boxes. In his basement, hidden away. I think they’re my mom’s. But guess what? Me and Lassie and Ingrid are over there for Christmas and I sneak downstairs. Oh, and Murdock. Murdock is there. He still had his balls then. What? I can’t hear you? Talk louder. Guess what? The boxes were gone.

“Opik? That’s crazy, right? The boxes were gone. I almost opened the red folder the next day. I had it in my hand, but I couldn’t do it. What if my dad is a monster too?”

I wait for him to respond.

But he’s dead.

Ingrid.

Lassie.

Opik.

All dead.

“Right there. OVER THERE.”

“You see them? On the bank, looks like two of them.”

I open my eyes.

Push myself up.

A beam of light shines in my face.

“Henry?” the light asks.

Salvation.

:16

June 20th

“Henry?”

I snap open my eyes. The room is all white. An IV sticks out of my right arm.

“Where am I?” I ask. “Is this the hospital in Fairbanks? Where is Opik? Is he alive?”

A doctor hovers over me. He is wearing blue hospital scrubs. He has a white mask over his face.

“Did you have a good sleep?” he says.

I take a deep breath. My brain is groggy, but that is to be expected. “Yeah, I did. Thanks for rescuing me.”

He cocks his head to the side and looks at someone. There is just enough room under his blue cap to see his eyebrows furrow together.

“Is Opik here? Is Ingrid?”

He ignores me.

A door opens and I hear footsteps.

A man in a black suit hovers over me.

“Hello, Mr. Bins.”

“Are you the kayaker who found us?”

He has nearly the same reaction as the doctor in the scrubs. Head to the side. Eyebrows furrow.

“Do you know what day it is Mr. Bins?”

I think back. “July 12th.”

Look away. Head to the side. Eyebrow furrow.

“Where is Ingrid? Is she okay? Did she survive?”

He turns and leaves.

A long couple minutes pass. I notice my hospital room has zero TVs and zero chairs.

A voice over an intercom says, “Ingrid is safe.”

“She survived the earthquake?”

There is a long pause.