No surprise Tiana had recognized Fishtown: the shops and hotel were built on docks, two strips of buildings that comprised the historical section of the village. Between the docks lay a cove fed by a dammed river. Rachel’s picture had captured the ambience at a quirky angle, her focus on water falling over the dam. The background wasn’t too blurry to pick out the weathered fishing shanties: wood siding, muntins in the windows, dock posts rising high in the picture. She’d crouched for a low angle to give them stark vertical prominence, but this time she was closer to the water than to the prison bars. If that’s what they were.
He was overthinking. She’d captured a moment of beauty. That’s all.
Simon parallel parked along a storefront, leaving the longer lot spaces open to the many vehicles towing boats. Zac checked for an updated post. Nothing yet.
“Let’s split up,” Zac said. “I’ll take the near dock; you take the far one.”
“If I spot her, I’ll call you.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Back here in thirty minutes.”
Zac hustled off, but action didn’t calm him. They were running out of time and highway. Over the next half hour he walked the dock, river and boats to his left and shops to his right. He ducked into places selling jewelry, candles, souvenir shirts, stonework and metalwork and glasswork. He returned the smiles of shopkeepers and managed a sentence or two of small talk, but he couldn’t recall a word he’d said after he left one store for the next. The sun was lowering, shadows stretching away from the lake. This time of year, once dusk fell, it would drop fast. By the time he returned to the rendezvous point, Rachel’s post from this location was almost ninety minutes old.
Simon wasn’t here yet. Zac checked her page. Nothing new and no response to his message, though she had to see it every time she posted.
He gripped a dock post and wasted energy trying to shake it loose. Maddening woman. Why wouldn’t she stop running? He stared down into the rippling cove and tried to plan.
“Hey,” Simon said from behind him.
Zac turned. “She isn’t here.”
“Don’t think so. We could do another sweep, in case one of us missed her.”
He hadn’t missed her. But until she posted again … “Might as well.”
They did. Twenty minutes later the sky was seeping colors toward the lake horizon, orange running down, dark blue trailing behind. Cars started. Headlights swept over the dock and backed away. Stores closed.
Zac returned to the same dock post, and this time Simon was waiting for him.
“Nothing new?”
“Not two minutes ago.” But he checked again anyway.
And his chest closed up.
Rachel had posted a sunset over a beach. He stared a moment at the radiant colors. Then he read the caption. “Old age should burn and rave at close of day.” Or choose not to.
“Oh God.” He gripped the post as his knees threatened to buckle. “No.”
“Zac.”
He couldn’t say more, not to Simon or to God. He thought he could feel his soul in his chest, crying out for Rachel’s life. He handed the phone to Simon, and his hand shook so hard he nearly dropped the phone into the water.
Simon read, swore, and shoved it into his pocket. “Come on.”
Zac followed him, words turning and striking one another inside him like rough stones in a tumbler. None of them would form in his mouth.
Rachel. Believing no one saw the last rays of her as she faded forever from the world. The storm in Zac whipped up and beat down until he could hardly see.
“There’s still a chance,” Simon said as they reached the car. “But it’s getting dim, buddy.”
“I know.”
“All we’ve got left is that she stuck to the route.”
“So we keep driving until we hit the beach.”
Simon was already putting their half plan into action. Already joining traffic on the highway, which had become sparser as they journeyed north.
“Give my phone back,” Zac said.
Simon handed it over with a grunt.
Zac texted Tiana. BEACH PICTURE. ANY CLUE?
In a minute she responded. NOTHING, SORRY. JUST LOOKS LIKE A BEACH.
His thumb hovered over the screen then went ahead and sent his thought. PLEASE PRAY FOR RACHEL.
“Zac, what I said before about being prepared.”
“And what I said before about shutting up.”
“I just don’t want to see you … you know.”
“Well, shoot, Simon. Let’s worry how the suicide of a woman who’s all alone and broken with remorse affects me. Brilliant prioritizing there.”
“You’ve been calling her family.”
“Yeah, so?” But through the inner tempest he glimpsed memories, the ones he did not approach. Ever. “The—the boys?”
Simon glanced away from the road to meet his eyes. Concern rested heavy and dark on his brother. Mournful.
Zac shook his head. “That was different. My boys— It was different.”
“Family’s family to you. And love of heaven, Zac, you latch on so dang hard.”
Not true. Or … was it?
“I don’t get it, but I get it. People are your oxygen, especially close people. But longevite or not, Rachel isn’t close. Might never be.”
He didn’t want to agree. Wasn’t sure he could. He shuddered as the months of the first Life Buoy stirred in his memory, the months after his youngest son was killed in a car accident at fifty-two years old. And two subsequent vigils over him—when his eldest boy was lost to cancer, his middle boy a decade later to old age and Alzheimer’s. To this day Zac’s grief remained a monster, slumbering at the core of him, possessing claws and fangs and fiery breath, still capable of brutalizing him if he crossed near.
His phone buzzed. A text from Tiana. WITHOUT CEASING, FOR YOU TOO.
He pressed the phone to his chest and drew a long breath that stabbed in his side.
“What?” Simon said.
“I asked Tiana to pray.”
“Hmm.”
They drove. Road rolled away, miles added up, minutes ticked toward sunset and then kept ticking. Dusk turned dark. The reinforcement of Tiana’s prayer faded. Zac’s knee began jumping again. He messaged Rachel: PLEASE ANSWER. Beauty was gone from the sky now, from the landscape they passed. All was shadowed.
The road ended.
It had ceased to be a highway at some point and become a two-lane asphalt strip. It terminated in a pull-off complete with drinking fountain, restroom, locking bars for bikes, and of course parking spaces. None of the vehicles was a gray SUV.
Shoulder to shoulder, they struck out for the beach.
“Going to be freezing with that lake wind,” Simon said.
The wind came in harsh off the water, watering Zac’s eyes as they walked into it. At the end of the street, they peered into the night. Other than the streetlight under which they stood, the beach was left to the darkness, but as they cleared the first incline toward the water, orange lights glowed at random to their left and right.
“Fire pits,” Zac said. “Come on.”
As they padded down the beach, Simon’s strides seemed longer than usual. Oh, right— Zac was setting the pace, practically running. The fires flickered against the young night, illuminating hunched backs on the near side of each circle and faces on the far side. Four pits in total, and three of them thronged with noisy, cheery groups. At the fourth, a single figure huddled, back to them, pale hair cascading halfway to her hips.
“There,” Simon said.
Adrenaline surged into Zac’s system. “Stay here for a minute.”
He headed across the sand without taking off his shoes. He might have to chase her, and at this point, hang it all, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so in front of witnesses.
She was crouched close to the flames, feeding them. Sparks popped and rose into the night to die over her head. Zac approached her from the side, but she didn’t catch sight of him. Beside her lay an accordion file folder. Two more were succumbing to the fire, only seconds ago set atop the kindling wood, writhing and shrinking and falling apart into ashes. Papers within them began to scorch. She threw the stack in her hand onto the rest.
Not rushing her took all his willpower. Instead he called out. “Rachel.”
She grabbed the folder and jumped to her feet. Past the circle of firelight she couldn’t see him. “Zac?”
“It’s me.”
“What are you doing here?” She clasped the folder in her arms.
“Did you take it?” He dropped his voice. The water would magnify echoes. “Rachel, please, the cure, did you take it?”
“Soon.” She spoke the word with the purest grade of hope and relief. “As soon as I’ve finished with my pyre.”