“Help us by leaving. That way Dr. Guilder can focus on the injured. Sydney, think.” He squeezes my knee and I blink against more burning tears.
I can’t think, my throat is closing. All I can do is shake my head. Dan uses his desk to stand. He holds out his hand. I take it. He pulls me up and into a hug, pressing me against his chest. I wrap my arms around his waist. We hold each other tight—and I snuffle into his shirt. “You’re right,” I say. “I just.”
“I know, Sydney. I understand. But…” He holds me even tighter. “There is no chance he survived. Mulberry is dead.” A sob shakes loose and tears escape. “He would not want you to risk your life and your child’s life to stay here for a dead man.”
The next sob takes me, the beast powerful and hungry. I press my face into Dan’s shirt. He holds me back, squats a little so our eyes are at the same level. “You are Sydney Motherfucking Rye, do the right fucking thing. Even if it’s taking care of yourself.”
I nod, swiping at my eyes. “Okay,” I say.
He nods, straightening. “Good.” Dan reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like a car fob. “Take this,” he says, holding it out to me. I sniffle and stare down at it, not understanding. “That’s access to our cryptocurrency.”
“What would I do with it?” I ask. It looks like a normal car key fob, has a lock and unlock button. Dan pushes a silver slide on the side and a USB-C pops out. “I connect it to a computer?”
Dan huffs a laugh. “Yeah, this is a backup. I’m giving it to you just in case. Rebecca has one too, and she is off island, but just in case. I wanted you to have one.”
“Okay.” I take it. The fob feels light and inconsequential. I slip it into my pocket.
“Just in case, if you need anything.” Dan holds my gaze, as if he is trying to communicate without words. “Go,” he says, then pulls me back into another tight hug. I squeeze him back. Saying goodbye feels dangerous. Will I ever see him again? Dan pulls away, swiping a kiss on my forehead. “Love you,” he says.
“Love you, too. I’ll see you soon.”
He smiles at me and blinks. Something in his eyes says he’s not so sure about that. I can’t tell if it’s him or me he thinks will disappear.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
I climb the stairs again, Blue by my side. My legs are on fire. When I reach that stair, I stop to rest. Sitting with my legs wide, my belly hanging between them, I lean forward, letting my head fall as I breathe.
The memory of our goodbye kiss fills my senses—so vivid it’s almost like it’s happening again. The darkness behind my closed eyes, the sensation of his stubble against my skin, his lips on mine, his body hovering over me. All that strength gone. All that love still here.
What can I do with it? What can I do with all this pain?
My stomach tightens and I have to stand again, I have to keep walking. Thinking won’t help me now. Dread pools as I climb again. I’ll have to see Robert…how will he react to Mulberry’s death? Will he feel victorious? Does he think Mulberry was the only thing holding me back from him? Was he?
No, don’t think now. Not now. Think later. You’re too tired to think now.
Sophia waits for me in the lobby—she’ll drive me to the landing strip. She’s wearing cargo pants and a lightweight buttoned jacket. I don’t know what color her clothing was, but they’re the gray-brown of ash now. Her hair is sprinkled with it too. Her eyes, nose, and mouth are clean—protected no doubt by the set of goggles and air mask now hanging around her neck.
She lifts her chin in greeting. I do the same, too out of breath from the climb to speak. This kid is straight up kicking me in the lungs. I swear, he has inherited my martial arts skills and is using them on my internal organs.
Sophia holds out a set of goggles and a mask. It’s beige plastic with aerators on both sides—like what you’d use sanding wood. “It’s that bad out there?” I ask.
“The jeep has no roof,” she says. “There is still a lot of debris in the air. I worry for the plane.”
“Really?” I ask as I fit the mask over my face.
“Yes, it is not good for the engine.” She shrugs.
“Do you think I shouldn’t get on it?” I ask, my voice muffled by the mask.
She shrugs, an elegant, bored gesture. “You are safe nowhere, yes?”
I cough a laugh. The first one since hearing about Mulberry. It hurts my chest and heats inside my mask. “You’re a philosopher,” I say.
Sophia does that shrug of hers again and turns to the fixed front doors without another word. I’ve never actually used the front entrance before. Always came from the parking area below. But I guess that’s flooded now…
The jeep waits in the circular drive. The original vision for this place imagined the billionaire and his friends coming in and out of the grand entrance of their mountain fortress and being driven around the island by staff. Something fitting to an ultra-wealthy crowd who left the peons behind to rot in the world they built.
Trees and debris litter the ground, all covered in ash. The road is thick with the same sludge that filled the lobby. I turn to look back at the mountain. The once lush green vegetation now stained that same brown-gray sways in a breeze. Volcanic dust carried on that same wind stings my exposed skin. I slip my goggles on.
Sophia is already behind the wheel of the jeep, her mask and googles in place, when I turn back to it. Blue hops in the back and I get in the passenger seat. “This is insane,” I say as she starts to drive, following the wheel tracks through the debris.
“Yes,” she agrees. “So many trees down, so much debris. I do not know how long it will take for all this ash to wash away. How many storms will it take to clean it?”
At least half the palm trees have fallen; they lean against each other, like mourners at a funeral. The trees still standing are weighed down by the grit and the fallen bodies of their neighbors. The road is scattered with black rocks and thick with ash. “It’s overwhelming,” I say. “Everyone else is going to evacuate soon.”
“Yes,” Sophia says. “This is too much destruction to salvage now.”
We pull onto the dirt track that leads to the runway and another pain rides up my spine. I have to shift in my seat and concentrate on breathing. Blue leans forward, tapping my shoulder with his nose. I reach out and pet his head, reassuring him that I’m okay.
We pull onto the tarmac. There is a crew of about twenty people working. They are dressed like Sophia, including the goggles and air masks. They have shovels and are clearing the debris and sludge from the runway.
“Did the plane survive?” I ask.
“We are working on it now. It is fixable. The hangar did not collapse, which is a miracle, I think.”
The plane sent for me approaches the runway, its landing gear down. The sky is blue behind the haze of ash still lingering in the air and the sun glints off the white body. Sophia drives down the tarmac until we reach the hangar, stopping at the open doors.
