I scan the crowd looking for her face. Stupid. She wouldn’t be out here in the open, not with that enormous bounty on her head. I feel the pangs of emptiness knowing she was here and I missed her. How long had she been here? I want to walk among the burned remains to see if I can still feel her there.
My airways contract and I double over. God, she can’t be dead. No. She wasn’t in that house. They told me she was hiding in a farmhouse; they gave me the coordinates and told me she was safe. That was before the video of her was sent to every Silverbook in the nation. Breathe.Breathe.
The footage of Gwen with Rebel had reached us days after it was released, the doctor arriving at the cabin door close to midnight, rain dripping from his poncho into his face.
“Something's happened,” he’d said.
He’d driven us from the cabin back to the main house where we’d watched it on the doctor’s couch, rain still clinging to our hair. Sophia had cradled the baby to her chest, slow tears crawling down her face. I didn't have access to watch it more than once so I’d memorized Gwen’s face, the new planes and lines that had appeared since we’d been together. Was she angry with me? Did she still love me even after I left without her? I wished she’d hold the baby up, so I could see what we’d created, but his tiny fist shooting up in the air made my heart twist with pride. Like his mother, already making his presence known, even before he can speak.
I made plans to leave before the broadcast was over. When I told Sophia what my plans were the following day, she picked up the baby and walked out of the room without saying a word. She didn’t say goodbye when I left a few days later. I kissed the baby as she slept and stepped out into the early morning fog, determined to right my wrong.
I should never have left Gwen. The image of her standing in the abandoned schoolyard as the helicopter rose into the sky is ingrained in my memory. The helplessness I felt. The weeks after, finding out that they’d taken our son from her and sent her to prison.
I wait it out until the crowd disperses, vehicles pulling out, the smell still thick in the air. The sunset coils with the smoke, turning the sky a deep red color.
I follow the sunset, heading west. She’s gone, but I’m going to find her.