My mom sighed. “I suppose he’s coming too, is he?” she said.
Samson purred.
Twenty-Two
It took another full half hour to gather ourselves together and actually get on the road.
The main problem was Uncle Joe, who flatly refused to leave while Orpheus was singing unless we could find some way to bring the radio. It was becoming a real argument when the twins found a set of official-looking walkie-talkies in the cutlery drawer in the kitchen.
“If we tape one handset down to TALK and set it near the speaker, you should be able to hear the radio for a few miles at least,” said Matt. Uncle Joe was thrilled.
Soon the cocoa cups were piled in the sink, the back of the truck was toweled dry and loaded up with blankets, and we were carrying Uncle Joe awkwardly down the steps into the growing twilight. The wind was still going strong, roaring in off the bay and pushing the last of the clouds back to reveal a sky already twinkling with stars.
The twins settled Uncle Joe in the bed of the truck, and Kelly, Abby, Samson, and I piled in around him. My mom fussed over all of us, adjusting hats and tucking in blankets, then got behind the wheel as Mark climbed into the passenger seat and opened the map.
Matt ran back to the cabin to lock up and turn off the lights, then hopped over the tailgate beside Kelly.
“Wait,” Abby said, jumping up from her seat beside me. “Here, take my spot.”
“There’s room on this side,” said Matt.
“No,” Abby insisted, stepping over Uncle Joe and cutting him off. “Not a chance, I want to sit next to Kelly and Samson. You sit next to Maggie.”
I could have died, she was being so obvious, but no one else seemed to notice. I was incredibly grateful for the cold wind giving me an excuse to be pink in the face as Matt settled into the nest of blankets beside me. He took up more room than Abby. Our knees were almost touching. Oh, cantaloupe.
“Well, this is pretty sweet,” Matt said, turning to me with a huge smile. “I get to ride with the lady in charge.”
I smiled back as best I could and flatly refused to catch Abby’s eye.
“Okay,” said my mom, sliding open the little window between the cab and the back of the truck. “All set back there?”
“Yes,” we chorused.
“I have to go to the bathroom!” called Uncle Joe. My mom groaned. “Ha, just kidding.”
Everyone laughed.
“Then if we’re ready to act like grown-ups, here we go,” said my mom. She turned the key, the engine roared to life, and we were off.
The icy arctic air whipped over us as the truck sped along, and I was instantly grateful for the mountain of coats and blankets my mom had insisted on bringing. Matt cinched the hood of his jacket tight and threw another blanket over our laps.
Abby leaned forward, patting Uncle Joe’s arm. “How you hanging in there?” she hollered over the wind.
Uncle Joe gave a thumbs-up, waving the walkie-talkie.
Kelly was riding with her head thrown back, gazing up at the dark sky and gleaming stars from her little cocoon of warmth. Her eyes shone. I could just see Samson and Creepy Frog snuggled in her lap. She spotted me watching and waved. I grinned and waved back.
Up in the cab I saw Mark shake out the map and say something to my mom. She laughed, her ponytail bouncing. She looked happier than I’d seen her in a long time, and I felt a sudden rush of affection for her. Somehow, she actually fit in on this adventure. She made it complete.
Mark spread the map over the dashboard, studying it, then pointed to the left. My mom nodded and spun the wheel sharply, pointing the nose of the truck down as we curved around a line of hills.
Everyone in the back looked up at the turn, and everyone saw it, and everyone shouted, but it was too late. We were leaving the stars and the wind behind.
We were driving into a solid wall of fog.
There was no time to turn. The hills held the heavy gray cloud between them like a sea, and our path went right through it. Within seconds we were swallowed whole.
My mom slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to a bouncing stop.
We stared around, but the fog threw the headlights back, reflecting only shining whiteness. The wind was gone, and the damp, clammy cold crept into the truck, finding every gap in our defenses. Abby pulled her hat down over her ears. Kelly disappeared completely under her blankets.
“I’m going to have to take this super slowly, everyone,” my mom called from the front, easing the truck into a crawl. “There’s no point trying to go back, but if we’re lucky we’ll come out of this soup soon.”
Mark had the map inches from his face.
“It looks like we should be okay,” he said. “This is only a sort of valley between the hills. Once we’re through we won’t be that far from town.”
“But how long will it take to get through?” asked Matt. “At this speed it could be hours.”
“We don’t have a choice,” said my mom. “We can’t risk hitting something if we’re going fast. Everybody just sit tight.” She was doing her best to sound optimistic, but I could hear the worry in her voice. “How you doing back there, Joe?” she called.
“I’m okay, Sis,” he called back. “I am okay.” Now that we were moving quietly I could hear faint sloops and eeeows from the walkie-talkie. It looked like Orpheus was still singing.
“Well, keep it up,” said my mom. “We’ll be at the hospital before you know it.”
We crawled forward, the only sound the crunch of the tires on the rocky ground and the occasional blip of whale song. On and on, and the fog got deeper. I felt a gnawing in my stomach, an uneasy mix of worry and
