THE DRIVE TO SANCTUARY WAS short, maybe only an hour, maybe two. I kept my hand clutched in Zoey’s the entire way there. I was trying hard to keep up a strong appearance for her, but I was terrified. Her face remained calm, her eyes staring out the window at the blur of trees and empty homes. I watched her, unable to tear my eyes away. I had been in love with her for as long as I could remember, and all I wanted to do was protect her and keep her safe from all the bad things in the world. I had to remind myself how incredibly strong she was, how capable she was.
She shifted in her seat, and I felt myself fill with warmth as she turned those wide brown eyes at me. They were beautiful, dark, nearly the color of milk chocolate, framed by the thickest black eyelashes I’d ever seen. Sometimes I just wanted to lean into her, just to feel those eyelashes against my skin as she kissed me. She was beautiful, and I wondered if she even knew how beautiful she was.
I couldn’t help it as a smile spread across my face. She beamed back up at me and squeezed my hand tightly. My mind flashed to the night before, the way our limbs had tangled together, the way her face had looked when I made her feel good. I leaned over and pressed my lips tight against her forehead.
We had been driving straight on a lonely highway for ages before Bert finally pulled off and took a series of turns. He led us up a long, windy road where we passed a sign that read “Mesa Verde National Park.” There was a ranger station at the entrance, but it remained empty, and there was something almost haunted about the sight of it. My eyes were glued to it until it passed out of sight. I shifted back in my seat, feeling the warm leather of the seat sticking to the fabric of my jeans.
I didn’t know how long it took us to drive up the cliffs, but eventually Bert pulled to a stop. There was nothing around us but trees and the hard red and white rock of the cliffs, and I looked up at Bert, curiously. “This is the best way to get to the entrance.” He took out a piece of paper that showed a roughly drawn map scrawled in red pen. He handed it over to me, and I studied it. Zoey leaned over, pressing her cheek against my arm as her eyes roved over the paper.
“It should be simple enough,” Bert said, his fingers tapping the worn brown steering wheel. He looked at the two of us. “Should only take you a couple hours, at the very most. It’s not very hard to find, but this is the most direct route.”
I nodded, slipping the map into my pocket and grabbing the pack I had brought from Bert’s house. It had a few articles of clothing in there, some snacks and water bottles, and the book I had found amongst the shelves at Bert’s house. As soon as I’d seen the familiar title, The Mists of Avalon, I knew I had to grab it. It wasn’t her copy, but the book was important enough to Zoey to bring it across the country with her, and I wanted to have one for her, always. Zoey slid across the seat and pushed the creaking passenger door open. She hopped down and turned back to me. I slung the pack across my shoulders and climbed out after her.
Zoey turned back to the truck, her eyes bright and wide. “Thank you, Bert, for everything.” I could hear the emotion in her voice and knew how hard it was for her to show it. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
Bert smiled at her, a full smile, and I was taken aback. I hadn’t seen a smile like that from him the entire time we had been at his house, and believe me, I had tried hard to get one. He was quiet, stoic, kept to himself and definitely not quick to smile. I saw the way he looked at Zoey and knew that there was a part of him that had quickly come to care for her. “You take care of yourself, Miss Zoey,” he spoke. He looked at me. “Take care of each other.” He turned the key in the ignition, and the truck fired back to life. With one last glance at us, he turned the truck away and began the slow, winding drive back down the cliffs.
We trucked through the forest for what felt like an eternity, the sun beating down on us. Zoey stayed quiet the entire time, never complaining, even as she drained the water bottle I handed to her. Every step was like a burning flame in my ribs, but I pushed forward. Bert’s map was a drawing of landmarks; turn left at a boulder in the rough shape of a bear, things like that. We were looking for a gap in the cliffs, something most people wouldn’t notice but would be marked by a single symbol.
Zoey halted when we reached the ruins, built right into the side of the cliff. They were old but incredible, and the two of us paused for a moment to take them in, to wonder about the people who had once lived here. I was mesmerized at the sheer size of the dwellings, cut out of the cliffs, high above the forest floor. We stared at them for a long time before Zoey tugged on my arm, a strange look on her face.