The fishermen made another trip to bring her things, then motioned her to follow. Her sneakers crunched seashells, then stepped over mounds of seaweed as she plodded up the beach.

Past the stretch of wet, packed sand, her feet felt the scrunch of the coarse dune. She climbed up the rise and lifted her gaze to locate the moon, the last familiar piece of her life. A few remaining stars still struggled to hold onto the night. She had read somewhere that stars twinkled red while receding, and blue when approaching. She located a red one, the star moving away. Wade. Another one, blue, was moving toward her.

“… we are divided from one another and scattered. For a long time I shall be obliged to wander without intention. But we will keep our appointment by the far-off Cloudy River.”

Dawn broke on the horizon. The ocean behind Nola was a distant echo when she stopped at the sight of an ancient single-propeller airplane strapped together by leather bands. Even in the context of the surreal recent events, she took in this new menace with disbelief. It was hard to imagine this airplane had flown since the Korean War.

The pilot looked at her with an open curiosity that made Nola recoil. He brought a stepping stool for her to climb up, but she remained frozen. Had the death-defying truck rides been merely a prelude to the real danger? She and Lulu might not come out of this alive.

She touched the surface of the oversized grasshopper, the metal cold, chipped and brittle. The seams that had held her determination and emotions together unraveled. She glanced behind her at the oily pink and orange smear that crawled along the horizon, spilling onto the skin of the water. This was it. There was no return.

Or was there? She sent a last beseeching look at the world—not even one she had ever known—and only then noticed that the scattered boulders to the west were a cluster of buildings with flat roofs washed in the dawn’s pink. Tall bamboo poles and barbed wire surrounded a wall with pagoda-like towers on each corner.

Nola's stomach tightened again. If she could only escape this madness. That evening in the apartment, Daniel had asked her if she would have done anything differently. If only he asked her now. She’d click her heels, and she and Toto—Lulu—would be back home, or even back at the hotel in Shanghai. Yet there were no ruby slippers, no witches and no wizard. Only she alone in muddy sneakers with Lulu.