There had not been much of a way to prepare, so Asher had taken care of the basics: music and food. He had made a playlist of songs that would last eight hours, at least. Driving music. He had packed plenty of clothes and a big grocery sack full of food, a cooler crammed full of water and Mountain Dew. He had bought an oversized atlas. Had packed a suitcase full of art supplies and board games. A load of books in a canvas bag.

The road rolled on, graying in the lifting pinks and oranges of a summer morning that was already hot. The hills were lush and striped with thin lines of mist rising up from the river. Asher coasted onto I-40 and the road sliced its way on toward all the little towns that lay between them and the vast, deep ocean. Surely Zelda had been able to reach the phone and call the police by now.

That reminded him: he grabbed his phone, rolled down the window, and was about to let go. But then he thought how easy it would be to find, lying on the side of the road, and there might be something in there that would lead them to him.

There was hardly any traffic out here at this time of day so he stopped on the bridge over the Cumberland River. He got out and leaned against the concrete bridge railing and looked down to the water where a few small, white, summer leaves decorated the surface of the river. A long drop down but he could smell the water.

He let go of the phone and the river swallowed it whole.

And then, as soon as Asher got back into the car, even though he had eased shut the door, the thing he had definitely not prepared for, because he had not even thought about how he would have to explain all of this to him:

Justin awoke.

2

2

Where’s Granny? Where’s Mom?”

“They’re back home, Justin,” Asher could hear how sad and tired his own voice sounded.

“Where we going?”

“To the ocean. We’re getting out of here for a while.”

“We’re not supposed to, though,” Justin said, not looking at his father.

“There’s no reason we shouldn’t. Sometimes the law gets it wrong. And this time, they did.”

“We’re gonna get in trouble,” Justin said. “The law’ll be after us.”

“Maybe so. But you’re my son.”

The blacktop sang beneath them.

“You know it’s not right, how this has all gone. Don’t you?” Asher asked, but Justin turned to the passenger window. Asher couldn’t say when he had crossed that line from being the kind of parent who avoided talking badly about Justin’s mother to outright saying this. But everything was changed now.