Page 46 of Doomsdate

“Ten-four, Gramps.”

“Ten-four.”

Everett

The whole world is quiet as Maisie guides us around twists and turns, through tunnels and forests, over ice and untouched snow. With last night’s ranger party, we might have truly cleared the park. She hasn’t said much since we set off for our second day of driving, and even the ever-present yapping of her prepper-radio newscasts has fallen silent, the signals unable to reach us on this snowy ridge or just not there anymore. The land falls away to our right, then left, then right again as we travel steadily north on Skyline Drive, the only souls alive for what feels like forever in all directions. It’s a terrifying thought, completely at odds with the snowy, peaceful stillness of Shenandoah surrounding us. Like those parting shots of the Overlook Hotel covered in snow in Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. Beauty and horror, all wrapped up into one profound emotion.

It’s been a long time since I could watch a horror movie.

After Louise got so sick, so fast, our lives became one. The relentless onslaught of her killer, prowling around our home, waiting. We were helpless to stop it. A cabin in the woods, surrounded and alone. All those years of loving horror didn’t prepare me for the real thing, because the best horror movies always end with hope. The hero slays the monster. The hero saves his loved one. The hero gets away.

I didn’t, though. I couldn’t. And yeah, maybe I was left standing when the credits rolled on our story, but I didn’t want to be. There was no hope.

After I went through hell losing the woman I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with, I haven’t been able to spend a moment longer in the hells other people create for fun, for profit, for art.

So cool that I’m living through a zombie apocalypse now. Love this for me.

Up ahead, another overlook curves out from the road, this one offering a full 180 degrees of perfect, snowy mountains, a surreal haze of white lingering over their tops where cloud kisses earth. Maisie’s eyes cut from the road ahead to the view with such longing, it almost hurts to witness.

“You’ve always wanted to come here, haven’t you?”

After a second, Maisie nods. “My mom would tell me stories about camping here before I was born, and how beautiful it was. That was before she was—before.” She sits up straighter, lifting her chin. “I maintain that it was also an extremely strategic choice to avoid former humans, however.”

“Pull over.”

She glances at me, surprised. “What?”

“Pull over. Just for a minute.”

She looks like she’s about to argue, but then eases off the gas, turning carefully onto the overlook from the road. On the other side of our doors, the air is biting and fresh. Without the barrier of tempered glass, Shenandoah hits like the best epiphanies always do—hard, and true, and absolutely wondrous. Maisie’s icicle eyes are open wide, reflecting back the brilliant blue sky as she takes it all in.

“It’s amazing,” she whispers on an exhale. A thin divot appears between her brows, slightly off-kilter. “And it’s…here.”

“Is something wrong?” My arm starts to wrap around her, the instinct to comfort her so natural I almost don’t catch myself. I freeze before she notices and let it drop quickly to my side.

“No, it’s just…my whole life, this was here. This place. These mountains. I didn’t know it, but it was always here.”

“It’s weird, right? Seeing places like this for the first time? Realizing that during every painful moment you ever had, this was here. Its existence completely untouched by you, and your life, and all your problems.”

“Even now, after the whole country’s gone to hell, it’s still here,” she marvels.

“It’s still here,” I agree.

We stare out, feeling the weight of it all.

“It makes me feel better, somehow,” she says quietly.

“I think when your problems feel so big, it helps to feel small.”

Her eyes find mine then, looking up and seeing me as if I’m as much a part of this place as the mountains. “Yeah. Exactly.”

She looks so beautiful right now, pale eyes and silvery-gold hair set against this snowy world, that I’m seized with the desire to capture it, to tuck this odd little moment away and make it a memory. I pull out my phone, practically useless since there’s been no service since we left Durham, but I don’t need service for this.

“Let me take your picture.” I stand back, kneeling a bit to get the angle just right.

“My—what? Are you serious?” Maisie’s hands fly to her hair, running down the sides, then across the smooth skin of her face. The peachy pink of her embarrassed blush appears just in time as I snap the first shot, making her even more vivid against the snow than she already was.

“Smile,” I call out as I take pic after pic. “Well, if you want to,” I amend. “Your body, your choice!”