I do as he asks and wait. Gulls are flying again—a good sign that the storm has blown itself out for real—but the sky remains a dangerous gray. We finished loading the barge with propane tanks as dawn was cracking the sky. Trey and I did all the loading; Manny and Wyatt watched the water from the highest deck like bald eagles watching for the silver glint of fish, Wyatt holding his gun at the ready. Lighter-fluid canisters are stacked on the first deck near the barges; we chose not to soak the coal in lighter fluid just yet, thinking another storm would just dilute it or wash it away.

Minutes pass. Are the barges rising out of the water a bit? I mark a clump of zebra mussels attached to the side of the lowest barge, and sure enough, they rise higher and higher. Whatever Manny and Wyatt are doing is working.

They return soon after.

“You’re ready to go,” Manny says. “Remember, no fancy driving. Just aim her true and trust her to get you there. We’ll pick you up outside of Sandusky.”

Wyatt grasps my hand. “Thanks for helping me. Yesterday.”

I blink at him. “Of course. When we get a chance, we’ll raid a pharmacy and get some backup inhalers for you. I’d be more comfortable if we all carried one.”

Wyatt seems a little stunned at this. He says, “Yeah, okay,” like it’s no big deal. “Good luck, Paige. See you in Sandusky.”

Moments later, they’re gone, and I carefully, tremblingly hit the throttle.

Driving the barge is awkward and strange and terrifying and maybe one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. The water has calmed with the sunrise, though, or steering this thing would be even harder. But I’m all alone—unless you count the sailcloth-covered corpse of Captain Mercedes Wade. I don’t even have Emmaline.

Some people loved life on the lake. I’ve heard of folks who worked year-round on boats like this, only stopping when the lake iced over too thick and hard to break through. Maybe Captain Wade was one of those.

It takes an hour to round Catawba Island, at which point I realize I have to pee. There’s certainly some kind of facility on one of the lower decks, but I think of the alien creature jetting out of the water to attack Wyatt, and I decide to hold it.

Another thirty minutes or so puts me past the peninsula that marks Sandusky Bay, and suddenly the giant roller coasters of Cedar Point are looming ahead, providing the perfect landmark. Ten more minutes take me within sight of the Yacht Club marina.

I turn off the ignition and drop anchor. Per Manny’s instructions, I’m not supposed to get too close to shore, lest we risk running the barge aground all over again.