“I would like to say a couple words to the two most important people in my life.” Already his voice trembled. “I’m not perfect. In fact, I’m pretty far from it. But there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you, Theresa. And you, Ben. Nothing. I don’t know what tomorrow holds. Or the day after. Or the day after that.” He scowled against the gathering tears. “I’m just so grateful that we’re together in this moment.”

Theresa’s eyes glistened.

As he sat down, shaken, she reached over and took hold of his hand.

It was the last night he would sleep on a soft mattress.

He and Theresa were intertwined, buried under a mountain of blankets.

The hour was late, but they were both still awake. He could feel her eyelashes blinking against his chest.

“Can you believe this is our life?” she whispered.

“Hasn’t set in yet. Don’t think it ever will.”

“What if this doesn’t work? What if we all die?”

“That’s a real possibility.”

“There’s a part of me,” she said, “that wants to play it safe. Maybe we do only have four years left. So, what if we make them great? Savor every moment. Every bite of food, every breath of air. Every kiss. Every day we aren’t hungry or thirsty or running for our lives.”

“But then we definitely die. Our species is finished.”

“Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing. We had our chance. We failed.”

“We have to keep trying. Keep fighting.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what we do.”

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

The door to their bedroom creaked open.

“Mom? Dad?” Ben’s voice.

“What’s up, buddy?” Theresa asked.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Come get in bed with us.”

Ben crawled across the covers and burrowed down between them.

“Is that better?” Ethan asked.

“Yeah,” Ben said. “Much better.”

They all lay in the dark, no one talking.

Ben dosed off first.

Then Theresa.

And still Ethan couldn’t sleep.

He sat up on one elbow and watched his family, watched them all through the night, until the sky lightened in the windows and dawn broke on their final day in Wayward Pines.

In every house throughout the valley, phones began to ring.

Ethan walked in from the kitchen holding a cup of black coffee and answered their rotary phone in the living room on the third ring.

Even though he knew the message that was coming, it still twisted his stomach up in knots as he held the receiver to his ear and listened to his own voice say, “People of Wayward Pines, it’s time.”

Ethan held the front door open for Theresa as she stepped out onto the porch carrying a cardboard box filled with framed photographs of their family—the only material possessions they had decided were worth taking.