Page 63 of Convergence

“We’re going to help,” Everett said, and looked back at Easton. “Whatever we need to do.”

Tommy hung up the phone and made another call while we waited. He yelled back to us to pack to leave, but we had nothing to pack. Easton went into his cabin and came back out with a heavy black backpack. He handed it to Everett and explained that it was food for the road, water, a change of clothes for each of us, a few knives, and a first aid kit. He’d had it packed since the night we arrived, in case we needed to leave quickly.

“Alright,” Tommy said as he approached us and put his phone back in his pocket. “You three have official clearance to move to New York. Though, local cops and highway patrol along the way will still pose a problem if you get caught by them. I recommend that you not do as such. The general public will also be an issue, so avoid being recognized. You can prove that you are not terrorists by catching and turning in Hoffmann and Daisy.”

My heart was beating in my throat. We had official clearance. Did that mean they did not consider us to be terrorists anymore? Or did it mean that we had the chance to prove we were not? I didn’t care. I needed to try.

“I want you three to take my truck, too,” Easton said. “It’s got Tennessee plates and I won’t report it stolen.”

Ev nodded in understanding. “Thank you. We owe you so much.”

Easton waved off the offer and shook his head. “It’s the least I can do after abandoning you and our parents and apparently sort of fucking you up.”

Everett snorted a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ve already got people on water and sanitation in the city,” Tommy continued, businesslike. “We need to make some calls, and you’ll be out of here within the hour.”

The guys and I washed up after being outside all day and met Easton and Tommy by the trucks. “Alright, it’ll take you a little over 12 hours to get there so you’ll get into the city at about four in the morning,” Easton briefed us in a tone that sounded practiced. “We’ve got points of contact in sanitation, water, Times Square, airports, and other tourist locations. We’ve got a secure lab in New York City for you to check samples and determine if it’s your bacteria or not.”

“While you have clearance to get there, you are not out of trouble yet. We have been informed that if you help in the investigation, your consequences will be lessened,” Tommy added in a similar tone to Easton. I realized that this was their job. They were experts in this, and I was eternally grateful that they were on our side.

“Take direct routes, alternate drivers, and go straight there,” Easton said. He handed Everett a phone. “Answer every call. It’ll be one of us.”

“Got it?” Tommy asked.

“Yes,” Everett said. Nate agreed, and I nodded once.

Tommy and Easton stepped aside for us. Nate, Everett, and I got in the truck. I was up in the passenger seat to allow Nate to nap in the backseat before his turn to drive. We were about to leave when Easton came up to Everett’s window. He spoke lowly to his brother, but I could hear him. “Ev, if you’re only going to go try to stop them because you want to bring back glory to the family, then don’t do it. I know how you want to show the world that onlyoneof the Monroe boys is a fuck up who can’t help his country- who can’t keep the family in good name. But it’s not about the glory. It can’t be about the glory. Glory is about how others think of you, buthonoris how you feel doing what you think or feel to be right. Glory servesyourself,and honor servesothers. I want you to consider which one you want before you make any more decisions.”

“I want to do what’s right. I can’t continue thinking I may have been responsible for people getting sick,” Everett replied.

“We don’t know that anybody is sick yet. We don’t know that they’ve made a move,” Easton assured Everett. “Get there and do what you can.”

We said our goodbyes, and Everett drove us over the river and out of the woods. Once on the road, we remained in a tense silence until we hit the open highway.

25

We had been on the road and silent for about an hour when the phone rang. Nate was trying to sleep in the back seat, so I answered.

“Hello?” My voice was small and hesitant.

“Take the next exit for gas. There are no police in the area,” a man’s voice directed me. It wasn’t Easton or Tommy.

“Um, thank you,” I said and relayed the message to Ev. “Who is this?”

“A friend of Easton’s,” the man said, and hung up.

Ev shrugged and moved lanes as directed. We filled the tank that had been less than half full when we got in the truck.

I wore a baseball hat and sunglasses to pay in cash that Easton had provided for gas and returned to the truck without incident. I had been alone in the store and didn’t draw attention to myself, so nobody paid me any mind. It was hard to remember that people were out here living their own day-to-day lives and weren’t actively looking for three suspected terrorists. They may have seen us on tv, but they weren’t expecting to see us in their town.

We drove until close to nine at night, before Everett needed a break from driving. We stopped at a rest stop to use the restroom and stretch our legs. I was doing some of my physical therapy exercises with the guys when the phone rang again. This time, Everett answered it, leaning against the truck and watching Nate and I finish stretching.

“We’re taking a stretch break,” Everett said to whomever was on the phone. “Yeah, we’ll be back on the road in five… Nate will drive… How are you watching us?” He looked up at the streetlight poles in the parking lot. The person must have hung up because he rolled his eyes and put the phone in his pocket.

Once we were back in the car, we were a little more awake than when we had stopped. Nate was driving and had the music on a rock station. As we drove North, more and more snow was visible on the ground. While there had been snow on Easton’s property, there had been none in Gatlinburg when we left. It felt like as the amount of snow grew, our anticipation and feeling of dread also grew.

“So, why are we doing this? What are our motivations?” Nate asked us as we sped down the highway.

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