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Chapters (77)
  1. Cover
  2. Title
  3. Also by Silas House
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Part One
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. Part Two
  27. 1
  28. 2
  29. 3
  30. 4
  31. 5
  32. 6
  33. 7
  34. 8
  35. 9
  36. 10
  37. Part Three
  38. 1
  39. 2
  40. 3
  41. 4
  42. 5
  43. 6
  44. 7
  45. 8
  46. 9
  47. 10
  48. 11
  49. 12
  50. 13
  51. 14
  52. 15
  53. 16
  54. 17
  55. 18
  56. 19
  57. 20
  58. 21
  59. 22
  60. 23
  61. 24
  62. 25
  63. 26
  64. 27
  65. 28
  66. 29
  67. 30
  68. 31
  69. Part Four
  70. 1
  71. 2
  72. 3
  73. Epilogue: The Everything
  74. Acknowledgments
  75. About the Author
  76. About Algonquin
  77. Copyright

Asher paled and held the steering wheel tight and looked up at the rearview mirror, afraid of what he might see, but the siren sounds got farther and farther away until they couldn’t hear them at all. They were not turning around to catch them.

Telephone poles along the highway, topped with huge piles of sticks and twigs. Osprey nests. Asher had read about these.

key west: 20 miles ahead.

The Haitian Baptist Church with yellow doors.

A white heron fishing in the shallow waters of the ocean.

Stock Island.

Trailer parks and Kentucky Fried Chicken.

One more bridge—no more than a second—and then, they were in Key West.

Part Three

Part Three

Little Fire

1

1

Key West is coming awake when they arrive.

Once they cross over onto the island and there is the opportunity to turn right or left, Asher chooses left for no real reason and then they are beside the ocean again, where people are jogging and riding bicycles and pushing baby carriages. The Atlantic burns a greenish-blue back to the horizon. He realizes he has no idea what to do next.

On past two or three beaches (empty this early in the day), hotels and motels and guesthouses and resorts.

All at once there are many different streets and Asher keeps making turns that will keep them near the ocean. Just seeing it has become a sort of security he is already not willing to abandon. And he knows it offers some sense of direction. Justin watches everything in silence, sizing up the place.

After some time the traffic slows near a giant red, black, and yellow concrete buoy that sits on the shore where people are having their pictures taken. Asher knows it from researching the island online. Scooters zoom every which way. The Jeep idles behind a mess of tourists who are trying to navigate a rented electric car into a small parking space and Asher and Justin watch the people gathered around the marker. Families. Man, woman, and child. Couples. Two men, holding hands, which Asher has never seen before. Never. Despite himself he feels nervous about Justin seeing this. There is also a man and woman kissing.

And here I am, he thinks, on the run, a criminal now, with my confused child.

Across the fake buoy is written:

the conch republic

90 miles to

cuba

southernmost

point

continental

u.s.a.

key west, fl

home of the sunset

Asher’s legs have turned to planks of lumber and all at once he feels as if his body is shutting down. The exhaustion has caught up with him at last, now that they have arrived. He feels like he is speaking through a wad of cotton that has been shoved into his mouth. “I need to get somewhere and rest for a little bit,” he says, wheeling the car back onto the street, not knowing where he intends to go. His arms are jerking with exhaustion.