Free Infinity's Reach by Glen Robinson Page A

my voice beginning to get shrill. “How will he find us? We don’t know where we are, we don’t know which way is west, and we have no way of getting out of here!”
    “Ellie, calm down,” Infinity said. “It’ll all work out. Evangelist works for my Daddy and I know for a fact that my Daddy only hires the very best, the smartest, the most determined men and women available. I know that Evangelist will be here.”
    “Someday,” I added.
    Infinity nodded, then added. “Real soon.”
    Logically, I knew she was right. But I had a hard time admitting that our best course of action was just to sit tight. I’ve never been a patient person, and sitting on a little island in a sea of sludge and fog wasn’t easy for me. I nodded agreement with Infinity, but inside I knew that I was close to the end of my rope.
    “So what do we do now? Sing?”
    Infinity shook her head. “Those crazies are still out there. We sing and that’s like ringing a dinner bell for them.”
    “Eww, did you have to say that?”
    Infinity grimaced. “Sorry.”
    “So singing’s out of the question.”
    She shrugged. “I wouldn’t advise us to do anything loud, at least until we know who’s out there.” We looked at her and I nodded, then she apparently had an idea of her own. She held up a finger and then reached down and selected two small, straight sticks that lay at the waterline. She gave me one and took the other and drew four lines, two left to right and two up and down. I instantly recognized the pattern.
    I drew an X in the corner. She drew an O in the middle.
    An hour later, we were sick and tired of tic-tac-toe. So we tried to think of some other games. Finally we improvised a checkerboard and checkers, me using pieces of driftwood for the white checkers, she using small stones for the black checkers. That lasted a couple of hours.
    Finally we looked at each other and sighed. Neither one of us wanted to say it, but we were hungry, cold and depressed. Water surrounded us, but we didn’t dare drink it. And as we looked around us, we realized that it was getting dark again.
    Tears came into my eyes even though I tried to be brave. Infinity reached over and wrapped me in a hug. We sat there on the edge of the water for a long time, our arms around each other, both lost little girls. And then the tears came hard and fast for both of us. After a long 15 minutes of crying, we both were spent, but felt better.
    “Maybe we should have done that earlier,” Infinity said, sniffing.
    “Ahh, I’m a mess, and no tissues in sight,” I responded. “But thanks. I needed that.”
    “Should we try a fire?” Infinity asked.
    “No,” I said. “You’re right. Those crazies could still be out there. And I want them to stay on their side of the neighborhood.”
    “Then I guess the only thing left is for us to get some sleep,” Infinity said.
    We lay down together on a soft piece of sand and listened to the small waves lapping on the shore. We huddled close together to keep warm, Infinity behind me with her arm draped over my waist.
    “Finn?” I asked quietly after a few minutes.
    “Yes.”
    “If the fog is still here in the morning, I want to go back.”
    She paused. “Let’s talk about it in the morning.”
    “OK,” I said, but I knew that she’d never go back.
    My stomach growled all night. It had been more than 24 hours since we’d eaten that possum burger in Harmony, and I couldn’t get the sight of it out of my mind, or the taste of it out of my mouth. Infinity fell asleep right away, but I stayed awake for a long time. Every time I heard a strange sound—a splash, a distant scream, an animal noise—I shook with fear. I realized that even though I’d gone camping with my father years before, I would never be totally comfortable in the wild. And when I thought about walking across the entire United States—these wild, frightening United States—I realized that I couldn’t do it.
    I slept fitfully that night and was awake