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We found Jesse in one of the passageways, crouched against the wall, head in his hands. He stood when we approached. We didn’t speak, didn’t have to. Together we ran the tunnels. We didn’t sprint at the superhuman speed our bodies were now built for. We jogged at Evie’s pace, with Darwin at our heels. We jogged every mile within the dam. Then we did again and again. Our muscles flexed, our legs moved in sync, and I imagined Evie running alongside us, watching us, her huge golden eyes heating with love and desire. I kept an eye on Jesse and Michio beside me, their expressions etched with shock and sadness, and their gazes lost in thought. Lost with Evie.

That night, we stood along the railing on the surface of the dam, facing the Colorado River and the pyre that floated between the shores. Moonlight illuminated the wood planks and the lifeless body of my soul lying atop it.

The hushed din of the surrounding crowds echoed between the canyon walls. Everyone was here. Shea and her baby, her sobbing frame supported by Paul and Eddie. Link, Hunter, Ronnie, the soldiers, the physicians, all were accounted for, united in their grief.

Darwin paced the length of the half-wall, restless and searching. He broke my heart.

I patted my hip. “Darwin, hier.”

He came, leaning against my leg as I scratched his head.

Beside me, Michio snuggled Dawn to his chest, holding her as tightly as he’d held Evie only hours earlier.

Jesse leaned around Michio, a flaming arrow anchored in his bow, and met my eyes. When I gave him a nod, he turned back toward the river, aimed, and released. The ball of fire arced through the black sky, and the pyre roared into flames.

I smelled the smoke, tasted her death, and felt the inferno of reality. It left me cold.

Evie had made a lot of preparations before she died, but with regard to her funeral, her instructions to Shea had been simple. Do whatever would give the people hope.

When the intake towers pumped the river water, along with her ashes, and carried it to the other side, they believed the turbines would pull her essence from the water and generate enough energy to resurrect her. That was their hope.

It was a fool’s dream, but I’d learned that with Evie anything was possible.

Jesse and Michio watched the blaze climb toward the sky. Dawn sucked on her finger, asleep against Michio’s chest.

I closed my eyes and prayed, but in my most harrowing moment, the prayers offered no comfort.

As the fire died down and the pyre sank into the river, Michio spoke into the night sky. “You told us she was the cure for the deepest pain.” His voice strained. “We lost our cure.”

I touched the sleeping baby in his arms. “Now we have her.”

Jesse stared at the river. “When Evie’s husband died, she did this alone.”

We weren’t alone.

Side-by-side, we braced for the eternal hour of darkness ahead.

But she’d left us with a bright light to help us find our way out.

She’d given us Dawn.

The distance between hypothesis and conclusion is measured in scientific steps.

But how do you measure love?

The steps begin with a leap of faith

And end with a very hard fall.

~ Dr. Michio Nealy

Michio

Six years later…

Before Evie, I’d arranged my life around my pursuit of scientific knowledge, a disciple dedicated to raising questions and chasing possibilities. When the plague wiped out ninety percent of the human race, my focus narrowed and clung to one significant answer. The only possibility. The sole surviving woman.

She wasn’t just the answer to our extinction. She was my answer. To everything.

I gave her my heart, freely, and she wrapped hers around it, making it bigger, stronger, and mighty enough to share with her Lakota, her priest, and her daughter. Three people, who loved me as much as Evie had.

Most of the time.

Right now, they were staring at me like I didn’t have a heart at all.

“Daddy, be nice.” Dawn wrapped her arms around Darwin’s graying neck and gave me a pouty look, one that reminded me when I was being a cold-hearted dick.

Jesse lay on the blood-soaked tiles in the living room of our houseboat, bowing his back in agony and seething through his fangs. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

For a tough guy, he could whine like a little girl. Though I probably should’ve given him a warning before I’d yanked the arrow from his chest. It wasn’t a fatal injury. The spiders would have had to hit his brain to make me worry.

But I did worry. Every time he and Roark raced into battle without me, my insides hemorrhaged. It had been my turn to stay behind with Dawn, and I hated that. We were meant to fight together and die together. I’d barely survived Evie’s death. I didn’t have the strength to bear theirs.