“We should never have gone in the first place,” Liv says, shaking her head.
“Of course we should,” Grandpa sneers. “We had no choice. You want to get the hell outta here, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then that thing on the trailer is your best bet, believe me.”
“Our best bet,” Liv corrects him.
“Wha’?”
“I said, it’s our best bet. It’ll carry the both of us, right?”
Grandpa already assured her before they went to get the jet ski that they would both be able to fit on it. But now, as he looks up at Liv, Grandpa suddenly seems hesitant. “We’ll see,” he mutters.
“What does that mean?” Immediate alarm in Liv’s voice.
“It means we’ll see,” Grandpa repeats, as though the conversation is over.
“But we’re both going, right? Right, Grandpa?”
Grandpa shakes his head and looks out the window again. “Nah, I’m not coming with you.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because of this.” He holds up the busted, bloody hand, and Liv recoils at the sight. “I’m infected. I’ll be dead soon.”
“No!” Liv cries out.
“Yes. And watch where you’re going! I’m not telling you again.”
Liv forces her eyes back to the road. She can barely think anymore. First Mom and Dad and now Grandpa.
Liv drives through the streets of Bergen, hardly noticing anything. Her mind is suddenly blank.
“It’s probably for the best,” Grandpa goes on in a softer tone. Liv can hear him breathing more heavily now. “I would have slowed you down anyway. Without me, you’ll be going close to seventy miles an hour. You’ll reach safety before nightfall. It’s better that way. You don’t want to be riding around on open waters in the middle of the night.” Liv is about to say something when Grandpa goes on: “You’ve got the food, right?”
Liv just nods.
“And the suit? You packed the suit like I told you?”
“I did,” Liv whispers. “Both of them.”
Grandpa scoffs, then mutters: “Well, I won’t be needing mine. Save it for Solveig.”
Liv bursts into tears.
“Stop that,” Grandpa bites. “You’ll crash the damn car.”
But Liv can’t help it; the fear and pain are just too much. She sobs as she drives on, wiping her eyes repeatedly with her sleeve.
Grandpa doesn’t say anything. Liv never cried in front of him before, and she feels even worse for doing so now.
“It’s okay,” he says in a low voice, almost too low for Liv to hear. “It’ll all be okay.”
Liv looks up at him again, as he leans forward to place his unharmed hand on her shoulder and squeezes it in a gesture of comfort completely unlike him.
“You’re gonna make it, Liv. You’ll go and get Solveig, and you’re both going to be fine.”
“But … but I don’t know … I don’t know where to go …”
“Head north. That’s your best bet. Your parents had a cabin somewhere up there, right? On one of the small islands just off the coast.”
“Yes, but … I have no idea how to find it.”
“You’ll figure it out. Just follow the coast, and use your intuition. You’re a clever kid, you’ll figure it out.”
Hearing Grandpa talk this way, in such an uncharacteristically warm tone, is the most heartbreaking thing of all. And, to Liv’s surprise, it also gives her a tiny feeling of courage. Of hope. Hope that she just might make it. If Grandpa believes in her, it’s possible.
“All right?” he asks, squeezing her shoulder again.
Liv nods. “All right, Grandpa.”
“Good,” he sighs, leaning back and closing his eyes. “I’ll be off soon.”
Liv looks at him. She can see big drops of sweat beading on his forehead. “We’re almost at the harbor, Grandpa. Hang on.”
He shakes his head without opening his eyes. “I won’t make it. I can feel this thing … it’s everywhere …”
A hot and cold shiver runs down Liv’s spine. “You … you need to fight it, Grandpa. I need you … just a little longer …”
He shakes his head again. “I’m sorry, kid.”
The words sound oddly like a goodbye.
Then, before Liv can say or do anything else, Grandpa reaches out his hand, opens the door, leans out and disappears from sight.
For half a second, Liv is under the impression that he felt ill and needed to vomit. Then, as he appears in the sideview mirror, tumbling and rolling around the road like a rag doll, the reality of what just happened hits her, and she begins to scream.
TWENTY
As they cross another block, they finally reach the harbor.
It’s a lot bigger than Dan imagined, bigger than any harbor he’s ever seen back in Denmark. It’s very obvious that Bergen is centered—or was centered, before it collapsed—around shipping.
But speaking of ships, there aren’t any.
Dan imagines that normally, a harbor like this would be filled with everything from ferries to motorboats, yet all that’s left in the water is tons of dropped items like clothes and bags floating around. And more bodies, of course.
The moor itself is packed full of vehicles, some of them military but most of them civilian, parked haphazardly bumper to bumper.
“They all left,” Åsaa says, stopping the car and leaning back in the seat. “We’re too late.”
“Let’s not give up hope,” Dan says. “There might be one left. Can you go farther down that way?” He points. “Looks like there are some smaller piers. Maybe we can find a boat.”
Åsaa gets the car moving again and drives slowly through the maze of vehicles.
Suddenly, another car cuts in front of them, and Åsaa has to hit the brake hard to avoid a collision.
“Oh, Jeez!” Åsaa exclaims.
The driver of the other car doesn’t seem to notice anything. It’s carrying a trailer with what looks to be a jet ski strapped onto it.
Åsaa and Dan both look at each other, then back at the car with the trailer as it makes its way towards the piers.
“I
