Dad

I gaze down into my own eyes, set into the face of my best friend.

Elizabeth inherited Susanna’s delicate features, ashy blonde hair, and slender frame. But those eyes with that steely glint in them, even through her glasses, came from me. We share a diamond core of strength, a hardness of will that Susanna never possessed.

Elizabeth rises slowly as we stare at each other.

She has filled out since I saw her in Washington. Her face is pink at the cheekbones and her eyes are clear, her skin unblemished by the dark circles she wore when I saw her last.

Susanna would be so pleased that she is doing well.

My heart hammers as emotion squeezes off my voice.

All we ever wanted was Elizabeth’s happiness and safety. As a United States Senator, I gathered wealth and power around me like a warrior brandishes his weapons, in order to protect my small family and make the world a better place. Before the Scorching, nothing could touch us.

But I failed.

Now I must tell Elizabeth that Susanna is gone.

My daughter’s eyes roam up and down, taking in the evidence of the weary road I traveled to get to her. After Susanna’s passing, the rest of the government fell around me but I escaped, taking an armor-plated Humvee and driving out of Washington. Over the thousands of miles it took to reach my daughter, I changed.

I left in a Humvee, and arrived on foot. I started in a suit, but arrived in rags. I set out a man in mourning, and arrive a harbinger of death. But I survived. My hands have squeezed the life out of men, stolen food and supplies, and helped the dying take their last sip of water.

Everyone who survived has changed.

How will I tell Elizabeth that I failed to protect what was most precious to me? All these miles later, I still don’t have the answer.

Elizabeth looks behind me, her eyes scanning through the windows onto the street of North Fork. “Where’s Mom?” Her voice is tiny, the answer already dawning in her eyes.

She knows.

“Lizzie.” I take a step forward, reaching out a hand and setting it lightly on her shoulder. Her bones feel small and light as a bird’s. She tilts her head to look up at me, those brave, bright blue eyes filling with tears. “She’s gone.”

“Scorch Flu?” The question comes out low and rough.

“Yes.”

Tension leaves Elizabeth. She sags with a strange kind of relief. There are so many more violent and devastating ways to die than Scorch Flu.

I rub her shoulder, up and down, feeling strength along with delicacy through the thin scrubs she wears. Her lip trembles and the tears escape. It’s as if every disagreement we ever had, including the last, melts away. I wrap my arms around Elizabeth and she leans into my chest. Once again, Susanna has brought me closer to my daughter.

I have missed her so much.

Elizabeth pulls in a deep breath and shudders out a sob as I rub circles on her back.

The little girl, still crouched next to the jigsaw puzzle, backs away from us, her gaze frightened.

A door opens and Melody Parker steps out. Her face is creased with concern, and when she sees me looking like a disheveled homeless man holding Elizabeth in my arms, fury flares in Melody’s gaze. “What do you think you’re doing?” She reaches for a gun at her hip.

Melody is carrying a gun.

That sweet, gentle girl is fierce now.

When the two girls were growing up together, Elizabeth was always the fighter. But now, Melody has drawn a nine millimeter and aims it right between my eyes, her gaze alight with a terrifying fire.

She could kill me and sleep well tonight.

“Melody, it’s me. John Johnson. Elizabeth’s father.”

Melody’s eyes widen in surprise and she holsters the gun as she crosses to us, pausing to reassure the little girl.

“What’s going on?” Melody asks as she reaches us. Realization dawns that I’m alone, even as she asks the question.

“Susanna is gone.” The words are painful burrs that want to stick in my throat.

Melody puts her hand on Elizabeth’s back as her eyes shine with grief. Melody loved Susanna, too. Elizabeth continues to cry into my chest and my own emotions well up.

I miss Susanna’s quiet confidence and unique strength every day. She didn’t have a diamond at her core like Elizabeth and me; she was a reed that bent with the winds, capable of swaying through any storm…except this one.

Susanna was my best friend, the only person who truly understood me, the only person who knew the deepest secrets of my heart.

I rest my cheek on the crown of my daughter’s head, breathing in her unique scent of vanilla and something antiseptic, the mark of her work on her body.

Memories from the day Elizabeth was born filter through my mind: the way Susanna held Elizabeth to her breast. The suckling noise Elizabeth made when she found nourishment there. Her tiny hands spread across Susanna’s pale skin.

My own emotions on that day wash over me afresh: the joy and fear of being a parent. Nothing can protect me from this terrifyingly intense love, and Susanna’s no longer here to share it and guide me. Tears track down my cheeks as once again I mourn my wife, my best friend, my faithful disguise.