The Hurricane

23

The world went by in reverse. Daniel and Anna watched the past from the back of the Bronco, the road sliding off into the distance as they leaned against the back of the seat and peered out the rear window. A tree that they had cut and hauled out of the way just hours before popped into view and then slid away from them. The plastic grocery bags rustled in the breeze. Bits of conversation from the two men in the front drifted back, but in an indistinguishable slur. The deep silence from Hunter and Chen was much nearer.

Daniel felt his body unwind from the several days of tension. He relaxed against the seat behind him and felt the raw terror of his life—not the storm aftermath, but of his normal life—slide out his pores. He felt happy and calm in a way he couldn’t remember since childhood. Maybe it was knowing his brother was okay, that his entire family was okay. Perhaps it was the chilly breeze passing through the car, cooling the sweat on the back of his neck, making his hair dance on his scalp. Maybe it was the thrill of being one of the only vehicles in sight, or the view of all the destruction sliding over the horizon, reminding him how awesome it was to be alive. He soaked in the unusual state of bliss. He felt his shoulder bump up against Anna’s as the Bronco lurched to the side. He felt Anna press herself closer, so that the contact between them remained long after the limb Edward had dodged disappeared into the past.

Maybe it was all the emotional outpouring of the last few days, the thrill of the unknowable future rushing at him blindly from behind, not knowing when he’d go to school again, not knowing when he’d watch TV again, not knowing when his cell phone would come back to life and continue its unringing mocking. It could have been any or all of these things that caused him to do the unthinkable, the laughable, the it-only-happens-in-the-movies:

He reached over and grabbed Anna’s hand.

It was so easy. It was like he couldn’t not do it. He felt her warm and soft palm against his own, felt her small and dexterous fingers curl around his, accepting. He rubbed his thumb up and down the back of her fingers, marveling at how simple and correct the harmless act felt. Some kind of raw power surged through him, a joy that threatened to burst out through his chest if his heart couldn’t contain it. Then Anna tilted her head to the side and rested it on Daniel’s shoulder, and she made the unimprovable better.

The world slid into the past. The future came at them blindly. With the wind drowning out the sound of the blinker, the stops and turns took them by surprise, causing them to stiffen and brace for what came next. But they remained like that, leaning on one another, hands caressing hands, fingers learning how they interlocked, and Daniel realized that if it was happening so fast, it wasn’t because of anything apocalyptic. He realized that Anna had been waiting just as long for him as he had been for her.