But the plush, smoky seats are an inviting respite from our long trek. The driver is a quiet, sinewy, dark-skinned man with a shaved head, wearing aviator sunglasses. A nerdy looking guy with curly red hair and glasses sits in the front passenger seat next to him. Myra sits in a seat behind the driver facing the rear of the van, across from us. Next to her is an olive-skinned woman with dark, curly hair. She has a kind face, like my mother’s. “This is Marley,” says Myra, and the woman smiles and nods. “And behind me are Sage,” Myra continues. The man driving the van raises his hand up in acknowledgement. “And Curtis,” Myra finishes. The red-haired man in the front passenger seat turns and says, “Hi.” “The day after Liberation Day, a deadly virus was released into the environment. At least ninety-three percent of the population perished.” My heart sinks into a desolate chasm. Does that mean everyone I love is dead? My heart breaks for Glenn and my parents, but most of all, for Evie.
