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It is always so HARD to sleep on Christmas Eve! I kept waking up every 5 minutes it seemed. But I must have slept some, because then I heard my sister yelling “Get up! Get up!” as she tore into my room and punched me in the arm for good measure. My heart pounded as we raced down the stairs to the most beautiful tree and presents all around. And that one in the corner was just big enough for..

And then I woke up. For real. But there was no tree, only the battered card table in the kitchen of my trailer. Next door, the rumble of that dang diesel pickup ratted my windows. I sat up on the sofa and looked at the clock. 6am. Christmas Eve. What an ungodly hour, especially since my shift at the Lucky Chicken hadn’t ended till 2 am last night. I flopped back down on the sofa, closing my eyes and hoping for a few more minutes of sleep, but it wasn’t to be. My dog decided he couldn’t wait any longer, and between his whines and my trailer throbbing, I gave up.

“All right, I am coming, just hang on.” I stumbled to the kitchenette, looking for the leash. The small brown package on the table stared back at me accusingly. It really wasn’t my package, I mean, the mailman had left it on my steps 2 days before, but it was addressed to some girl three trailers down People came and went from here pretty regular, so I hadn’t actually met her. Miriam Valdez, the name said. She probably wasn’t even still living there anymore, I told myself, trying to ignore that little voice pricking the back of my head. I had been meaning to take it down there, still, it was probably the only package I would get this Christmas. Mom was between husbands this year, and my sister was busy with baby number 3, so there wouldn’t be anything from them. I didn’t have many other friends, and the ones I did had headed back home for the Christmas break. I was stuck here between terms, working at the Lucky Chicken because I had to pay my fine and court costs for that stupid DWI that really wasn’t my fault anyway. In any case, my probation lasted until the spring, and then I could finally leave this pit.

I found the leash and I headed out the door for a walk, actually more like a drag. He dragging me down the road towards the highway so that he could piss on the exact same signpost that every other neighborhood dog had marked overnight. We passed the trailer were that girl would be. A battered dodge was parked next to the trailer, so someone was there. But probably not her anyway.

Back at my place, I fixed the dog his breakfast and some coffee for me. The package still sat on my table. Well, I could take it down there, and then if she wasn’t there, I mean, how many times was I suppose to try? Maybe it was something good to eat that shouldn’t go to waste in any case. The package stared at me for a few more hours, and finally I couldn’t take it any more. I finished my coffee, then took the package and headed back out the door. The car was still there, and I could see a figure moving past one of the windows. I knocked on the door.

A girl with brown hair answered. She was about my age, and looked like she had just woken up too. I held out the package. “Hi – Are you Miriam? I live three trailers down, and the mail guy left this on my step a few days ago.” At first she looked suspicious, but when she saw the package, her face lit up.

“Oh GREAT! I have been waiting for this. I figured it got lost in the mail. Thanks!” She took the package. “Hi, I am Miriam. You must be Jake.” She smiled

I was confused. “Uh, yeah, how did you know?”

She nodded her head in the direction of the trailer next door. “Mrs. Miller. She knows everything about everyone around here. And you play your music too loud.” She laughed. “Do you want to come in for some coffee?”

“Uh , sure.” I followed her into her trailer. Basically it was the same as mine, only hers was fully of boxes that were being unpacked, or packed, it looked like. She put the package on her table and cleared off a chair for me to sit. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Are you moving in our out?” I asked

“Out.” She smiled “I’ve got some family back east. I am going to stay with them awhile and try to save a little money.” I heard a small rustling noise in the corner and a little mewing noise that was maybe a cat? She heard it too, and went quickly to the corner and bent over to pick something up. OK, not a cat. A baby?

“Looks like Jessie decided to wake up and join the party.” The baby squirmed in her arms. “Jake, Jessie. Jessie, Jake.”

I smiled weakly. I mean what do you say to a baby? “He looks like a nice baby.” That sounded idiotic the minute it came out of my mouth.

She didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, he’s the best. Do you want to hold him while I open the package?”

“OK, I definitely didn’t want to, but she had already pressed the baby into my arms. He looked up at me with a very serious expression on his face.”

“He looks like you.” Now that sounded better.

“Actually, he looks more like his father.” She replied.

“And his father is…?”

“Gone. For a long time now.” She had opened the brown box and reached inside and pulled out a smaller box. I could see the QVC logo.

I juggled the baby in my arms “What is it?”

She held up the box. “A Nativity Scene. When I was little, we always had one under our Christmas tree. It probably seems silly, I mean he won’t even remember this Christmas. But when I saw it, it looked so much like to the one I used to have. I just had to get it.” She began unwrapping the pieces and setting them out on the table. “Now it can be Christmas.” She declared.

“It’s not much of a Christmas, is it?” I asked

“What do you mean?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“I mean, here you are, and me too. Looks like we are in the same boat. Away from home, barely getting by, no family to speak of. It just doesn’t feel like Christmas.”

She smiled and looked down at the plastic manger scene on the table. She picked up one of the figures and ran her fingers over it.

“Actually, it is just like Christmas, the first Christmas. Mary and Joseph on the road, away from their family. Sleeping in a barn with a newborn. Compared to that, what we got looks pretty good. At least my heater works!” She handed me the figure.

“And in the end, the child born that night changed the world. I don’t know if Mary could imagine that journey when she first looked at her son. But she had faith, not that things would be easy, but that God would walk it with her. She never gave up, she just kept going. “

“So is that what you are doing? Just keep going, even when it seems you are going nowhere?”

“Look, I don’t really know what will happen when I get back home. But yeah, I guess, I do believe that I will figure it out along the way.”

In my arms, the baby began to squirm. She reached for him, and I passed her the bundle. “Looks like he needs to be changed.”

“Hey – my shift ends early today, I get off at 7. I could bring back some leftover Chinese. Do you want to eat dinner with me tonight before you leave?

She smiled. “Actually, that sounds great. I will see you later then.” I headed for the door. “Ok tonight.

Maybe it was knowing that I had something to look forward to that evening made time crawl during my shift that day. But 7pm finally came, and I rode my bike back to the trailer, the plastic bags of take out Chinese swinging from the handlebars. When I got to my steps, and there was a small brown package I recognized. And a note from Miriam.

Jake – I am sorry that I didn’t get a chance to say good bye. The weatherman says there’s a bad ice storm on the way, so I decided to get on the road early and hope to beat it. I decided that you should have this, maybe it will help you remember that even in the darkest times there is always a light that will show you the way. Just keep moving and trust that you will figure it out along the way. M

I ran to Mirian’s trailer, but it was dark. The car was gone. I peered in the window, trying to see inside. Then I turned the corner and ran right into Mrs. Miller. She narrowed her eyes with me. “Jake, what are you doing, peeking in other people’s windows? You better get gone before I call the police.”

“I am looking for Miriam.”

“Who?”

“Miriam, the girl that was living here.”

“Child, there ain’t been no one living there for 2 months ever since the Birdwell family moved out. Now GIT.”

I walked back to my trailer, picked up the box, and went inside. I unwrapped the pieces and set them up on my table. Then with the holy family watching, I ate my Christmas dinner, but I gave the dog my fortune cookie.

This month’s photo was submitted by Scott Snider. Thanks Scott!

Rain splattered irregularly on my windshield. I couldn’t find the right setting of intermittent speed for the wipers. To fast and it was annoying, too slow and they screeched loudly without water to lubricate their way. Again, annoying. The strong winds of the day’s storm were finally letting up. Starlight couldn’t make it’s way through the cloud cover, but the silence was the worst. My wife was giving me ‘the silent treatment’ despite my earlier attempts to talk it out. She was too mad for that. My mind drifted back to what I’d heard on the radio, about women’s brains physically ‘wired’ to be madder longer. A fat lot of good that did me now, as just knowing a fact doesn’t help make it untrue. And just wishing you could take back the last hours of your life doesn’t mean it will happen.

She moved, although still looking out the passenger side window, then returned to her previous pose, fingertips on her lips. I think she was wiping away a tear, but it so quickly, I really didn’t get a good look. I was a second-grader again, scared, and sad, waiting for my punishment. Except this time I hadn’t cut Sally Jenkins hair with scissors, or glued a book’s pages shut. I had, I just realized, ruined lives! Well, was it that bad?

I signaled my approaching turn off the road, the click-clack sound the only thing louder than our breathing. It wouldn’t be long, we’d be home. I thought I knew how it would play out. She’d go to our bedroom and shut the door. I’d wait, just wait, not daring to enjoy myself with TV, or the computer. Our boy would might be sleeping anyway. Where would I be sleeping?

The rain decided to stop, as did the wind, just the time I pulled into our driveway. She spoke, “Lou… I want a…” Her words stopped, her focus now on something else entirely. “SAM!” She opened her door, well before I could put the car in park. Running through the sloppy lawn, she screamed our son’s name over and over again. “SAM! SAM!” I saw what triggered this burst of energy, a tree had fallen on our son’s play set. Large splinters were everywhere, branches, leaves, all littering the grounds. Seeing Linda stagger around the area, coming up with nothing, I bolted inside the house. It was my turn to yell, “SAM!”

“Daddy!”, Sam ran to me from his room, wearing a ‘brave knight’ outfit we’d gotten from the local toy store. I grabbed him up in my arms, and rushed back to the door. “Linda!” I yelled, and saw her tear-streaked face turn toward us. Her steepled hands covered her face, from nose to lips to chin. She made her way to us, and embraced both of us in a warm, long hug.

“Mr. Daily?”, this time it was Nedra speaking. She held miniature playing cards in her hands. I knelt down to the babysitter’s level, and asked what happened. Nedra explained while we were gone the wind got worse, and a tree cracked and fell. It was too dark, windy, and wet to be playing outside, anyway, so she and Sam were playing games indoors until the parents returned.

Not much else was said that night. Linda took Nedra home. Sam and I played some more games, and the evening continued like most Saturday nights. I laid awake, in my usual bed, a long time that night. I had a lot to think about, to re-evaluate. In all the years since, Linda never brought up the incident at the party, never completed that sentence she began in the car. Perhaps she re-evaluated too. Life was too precious, family so important, and the smashed play set proved it. For that moment we both gained clarity, and have since held to it tightly in our hearts.

Brisk wind blew relentlessly across the quad. Four men, each clad in a thick coat and fur-lined hat stood in an improvised circle. The hard years had chiseled deep wrinkles, and not a one still had color to his hair.

“Only four.” Pete said, which elicited a soft round of murmurs of agreement.

“Seeing you guys is great fodder for nightmares and all, but can we get on with it?” Gus’s voice had all the compassion of gravel, and a similar timbre.

“Yeah, here, here.” Isaac piped up, always the vocal one. But they were all old and cold, and getting out of the cold had a special poignancy.

“Okay, come on.” Pete turned, and the foursome began to march across the yard. Sixty years ago, this lone prison island off the coast of San Francisco was the only home these men would have for a dozen years. Bank robbing carried a high penalty, especially when the offenders were caught. In 1947, ten men executed the largest bank robbery ever in the Hawaii, having banks before even having official state status with the US. Two were shot and killed that day. Two died in prison, cancer got one, as did a car accident another.

Fate had deemed only these four clemency long enough to wait for this day. Sixty years to the day, and the statue of limitations would dissolve. The money would be, for lack of a better word, legal tender. The crew had all agreed not to talk, and not to take, in honor of the fallen, until this day.

The men would not get to enjoy much of the take, each share now worth a full million dollars. It was now a gift, to children or grandchildren or as a donation toward children to be. Perhaps to do some good. A warped robin hood, steal from the dead and give to the not yet born.

The people milling about were focused on taking pictures, smiling and waving to cameras. Pete was repulsed, tourists gawking and chattering about. This was the prison for the worst, including himself, not a place for site-seeing. It should be respected, sacrosanct. But that time had come and gone it seemed, and he had lived to see it. The place hadn’t beaten him, he, no they, had outlived it’s terrible grip. And while the island may be here for centuries until worn away by salty sea, no one in the universe could take that pride from him.

“Hello boys.” A solitary figure, also old and thin, stood still, a big smile all over his face. His coat was blue, no hat adorned his head, the remaining white locks whipping around in the wind freely.

“Owens? Is that you?”, Pete squinted, as did some of the others. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’d willingly come back.” Sanders replied, “At least not all four of you. On the same day. Not here.”

“Time changes a man.”, Isaac piped up. He was full of himself today.

“Bull” Owens said, “You’re all the same. All following Peter here on this crime that’s lasted what six decades? Can’t you just go home?”

“Can you?” Pete shot back. “It HAS been six decades, we can talk about it all we want and you can do nothing. So, CIVILIAN Owens, please step aside.” Pete blustered around the former detective, not completely clearing out of the way. And despite both their frail frames, it felt good to give rough a little, again.

The four men continued undaunted toward a side section of the open plaza. Speakers called for the 4:15 tour group to assemble at the main facility entry gates, painted bright green.

The goal of the troop was to retrieve a key. Hidden in a bathroom was the key to a safety deposit box. That key and only that key would give these men access to their large loot.

Rounding the corner, all four stopped cold in their tracks. For all their planning, for their infinite patience, they never factored in one possibility. Since the public was now admitted to the site, provisions had to be installed for women. In it’s prime Alcatraz hosted only men. There were no women’s restrooms, so the location of the hidden key was so close, and yet unfathomably far away.

“What’s the matter boys?”, Owens had sidled up behind them. “You lost?”

“Pete, what are we going to do?”, Alexander hadn’t spoken much that day at all, yet now he looked ready to fall apart.

“Good day, gentlemen.” Owens laughed heartily and walked off.

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, improvise.”, Pete was already looking around. He was their solutions man, and that’s why he led. In short order the janitor received a crisp new $50 dollar bill and took an unscheduled break. Pete took the ‘rented’ equipment, a mop, bucket, and the all important “BATHROOM CLOSED” sign. In ten minutes the restroom was cleared. Pete and Alexander walked in, Alexander having the needed adjustable wrench and screwdriver. The tile had been redone since their last visit here, but the pattern remained the same. Pete counted off the tile in the fashioned he’d used earlier. His shifts as janitor served him well back then. It took two minutes and all four of their hands, but the team peeled away a tile, and chiseled through the ugly mortar behind it. The metal top burst through a fake wall section, and waiting patiently this past sixty years in darkness, was a brass key.

* * *

American National Bank had changed names, logo, and branding over a dozen times in the last sixty years. Yet, they still honored key-holders 24/7 access to the safety deposit boxes. Pete signed in just ten minutes after midnight, the woman processing him in absolute amazement with how long it had been since the box had been last opened. She explained, “The account has been pre-paid for sixty years. Tomorrow, well, later today we were going to open it up, I guess you saved us some effort. I’ll leave you guys to it.”

After the pretty little thing left, that could have been any of their granddaughters, they all went inside. Pete had forgotten which box was his, but they were all labeled.

“Mister Peter Vanguard?” It was the clerk again. “Is this man with you?”

“Owens, what are you doing here?”, Pete demanded.

“This case has been with me the better part of my life. I want to see it finished.”

“The statute of limitations ran out about ten minutes ago.” Pete said to the guys. “Let him look, he ain’t a cop anymore. Let him know how badly we beat him. I mean on a cops pension, you must be making what? 10, 12 grand a year?” The room burst with laughter from all except Owens. “Yeah, doll, he can come in.” Pete said proudly.

Cramped in the secure room, the five men walked to the far end. Finding the large box installed on the bottom row, Pete slid in the key. He tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck.” All groaned. “Just kidding you rubes!” Pete turned the reluctant lock and then pulled out the metal shelf from inside. Despite being locked away, dust still managed to coat the top. Pete pulled open the lid, and inside was brimming with many thousand dollar bills, none more current than 1957.

Cheers of joy sounded, the long wait had paid off. Pete picked up a wad and shook it in Owens’ face. “What do you think of that?”

“Is that the money you stole from the bank?”, Owens asked calmly.

“Sure is!” Pete laughed, as did the others. Pete smelled the thick, old money. It smelled good!

“Then I’m afraid you’ll need to turn that over to the police.” Owens said.

More laughter, this time guttural, intense. Pete was the first to calm down. “That’s a good one Owens, you’re just a little too late.”

“No, you’re too early. About two hours early. You were arrested, tried and convicted in Hawaii, which is two hours behind us. The stature doesn’t expire for a little while just yet.” Owens then let himself smile.

“What?” Pete felt dizzy.

“Now, you already served the time for the crime, but the money will still be confiscated. The police are waiting just outside. I still have friends on the job.” Owens turned, satisfied that despite the long years waiting for it, he finally got to see those four smug faces get their comeuppance.

Dean Stanton sat in the floor of the skiff, his eyes closed, his lips mumbling continually.

“Relax, Pal”, Will Cubit touched the man on the shoulder, but the accountant still jumped, and continued to shake. “We’re almost there. Look!” Will’s finger pointed south. Dean dared open an eye, his flesh and fat vibrating furiously from each wave they crested. “It’s Rainbow island.” Stanton resumed his frightened mode, and Will continued navigating their way to the shore.

Once they arrived, Will half expected the suit to kiss the sand. Instead he pulled out a camera, and began taking video of the abandoned features. Only these two men occupied the island. “You do know my employer wants a citadel, a head-quarters. This looks like… an amusement park.” The tone indicated to Will his commission was in serious jeopardy.

“Oh, of course, but that’s the beauty of this place. Everyone thinks it’s all jolly-fun-time here. Who would suspect a super-villain…”

“My employer prefers the term, Renegade Genius.” Stanton corrected instantly.

“Okay,” Will had no qualms about the semantics, “Who would suspect anything nefarious to come from such a wonderful locale? People don’t see biological weapons factories, they see mass-market treats. They don’t see weapons assembly lines, they see thrill-rides being repaired. Even the name, Rainbow island sounds so harmless, who’s going to look for a evil, er, Renegade Genius here? You buy Skull-crusher Mountain, or Castle Grey-Skull, or anything with skull in it’s title, and the do-gooders will be tipped off from day one.”

“You either make a good point, or are completely nuts.” Stanton said pulling on the merry-go-round, testing it’s resistance.

“I know, that’s why it’s the company slogan.” Will smiled, pressing his card into the man’s suit pocket. “Tell you what, try out a few of these rides with me, and if you’re still not sold, you at least got free admission.”

Like any adrenaline junkie, Dean began enjoying each new thrill-ride more and more. The catapult, the spleen bender, and the RNA de-coder where his favorites. Add to that a large swirl of cotton-candy, and the deal was closed before closing time.

I started up the first set of steps, the children behind me still chanting words of encouragement. At the first landing, I was met by a small man, cloaked in robes of deep purple. His face was nearly hidden, and he didn’t look up as he asked, “Up or down?”

I thought for a minute. Of course I was trying to go up. Why would he ask?
“What are my options?”
“Up or down.”
I looked back at the kids, who were all pointing to the top of the steps, gesturing wildly for me to answet correctly.
“Up, I guess.”
“That is correct. Proceed, Mark.”
“How do you know my name?”
“You are expected. Please proceed, and stay on the steps.”
He sat down in the corner of the landing and folded his arms. His head dropped and his breathing slowed.
With no other choices obvious, and with his adminition to continue, I went up the next flights of steps. At the next landing, there was another man. This one was standing tall, dressed in robes of bright orange.
“Hello, Mark. I’m glad you’re here. I am going to answer some of your questions.”
Good, I thought. Now we’re getting somewhere..
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“You died in the bus accident, Mark. I’m sure you knew that already. But these steps are the qualifications you need to enter the eternities. You will be asked questions about your life and feelings at each landing, and your answers, and any discussions, will be used to determine your worthiness to continue.”
“What question are you going to ask?”
“I have two questions. You may not pass if you give the incorrect answers, and I already know the truth, so please answer honestly.”
This was scaring me. I was getting tested, and I never had a chance to get ready. I suppose there isn’t a cram test for getting into heaven. Well, maybe the death bed confessions. But I never had a death bed.
“Okay. I’ll do my best.”
“I’m sure you will. My first question is, have you killed anyone?”
“No, of course not.”
“Very good. My next question is, have you ever denied that there is a God?”
I didn’t think I’d ever done that. My mom and dad always taught me about God, and I went to church with them until I left home. Since then, while I wasn’t much of a church goer, I know I always believed in God, and visited a lot of churches with various girl friends.
“No, I know there is a God.”
“Wonderful. You may continue upwards.”
‘Thanks.”
“That wasn’t too hard, was it?”
“I guess it makes me think, and to be honest, I never thought too deeply about what I’d need in order to qualify for heaven. If this is the kind of questions I need to answer, I should be okay.”
“Just remember to answer honestly. We know the answers. If you are ready, and have no more questions, you can continue.”
He held out his hand, and I took it in a handshake. He hand was warm, and his face smiled so gently, I knew it was full of caring.
“Thanks, ” I said.
He released my hand, and pointed up the steps to the next landing.
This was going well. But I was worried about the questions that would follow. The first landing was easy, and the second not much worse. What would they ask as I got closer to the top?
At the next landing, there were two ladies, in yellow robes, seated behind a desk. On the desk were several notebooks, filled with papers. I could see lots of hand-written notes, and many of the pages had been dog-eared.
“Hello Mark,” said the lady on the left. “My name is Mary, and this is Elizabeth. We have your life books here, and would like to ask a few questions about choices you made in your life.”
I felt sick. This was it. I knew I hadn’t been nearly perfect. I think I tried hard, but how much was good enough?
Elizabeth continued, “In these books are all the things you’ve done in your life, the actions and thoughts, the intentions. We do our assessment on a point scale, where good things and bad things each receive a certain number of points. If you’ve done well, we let you continue.”
“Ouch,” I blurted.
“Don’t worry,” said Mary. “You’re score is actually quite good. Not great, mind you, but very good.”
“You see, we look at intentions and thoughts a lot. And while you’ve done a few things we would prefer you hadn’t, there are many more times where you’ve followed the right path,” explained Elizabeth.
“So, what questions do you have?”
They went through the books for a few minutes, asking me about cetain actions, asking why for some of them, how I had come to the decisions, what promptings i had received. In the end, they seemed pleased with the answers.
“Mark, we have a good feeling about you. But we cannot make a final judgement. That will happen later in this climb.”
“So I can go on?”
“Yes,” said Mary. “You have done well here. We are pleased to send you further up the steps. Good luck.”
They started to close the books, and gather all the loose pages. I stepped around the table, and started up the next set of steps.
The next few landings were very similar. Copies of my life story, or life book I guess they called it, were available on each landing, and the people in each place asked questions about various parts of my life. One landing was all about how I took care of my body, which they called my temple. Another landing revolved around how I treated my family. The next set of questions talked about my dealings with friends, girl friends especially. That one scared me the most, but I guess I had treated them well enough.
Finally I got to the last landing before the top. A man in teal robes met me with his hands outstretched. I entered the circle of his arms, and he hugged me as if I was the prodigal son returned.
“Mark, I have one more questions before you rise to the top.”
“Okay. I think I’m ready.”
“I’m sure you are. My question is this. Do you feel worthy to enter into Heaven?”
There it was. The question I didn’t have an answer for. He must have seen my thoughts in my face, because he quickly reached into his pocket and handed me some headphones.
“What are these for?”
“Mark, put them on. I want you to listen, and say aloud the last words you hear.”
I put on the headphones. I could hear the sounds of the bus, the children laughing and playing. Then, screaching tires, a few screams from the back. I could feel the bus in my bones, feel the last turns I was making as I tried to avoid the drunk driver. And then, quietly, I heard the words he wanted me to repeat.
“Oh, God, please don’t let these kids get hurt.”
Tears streamed from my eyes unbidden. I took off the headphone, unable to listen to more. I handed them back, and told him what words I had heard.
“Mark, your last thoughts were about those children, not about yourself. Did you know that the direction you aimed the bus would mean certain death for you?”
“I didn’t have time to think about it.”
“That is the point. You only thought about those children, the little children of Father who were in your care. You, Mark, are here because you deserve it.”
“Then,” I asked tentatively, “my answer is yes?”
He came back and hugged me again.
“Yes, yes, yes. You are a worthy son, and we welcome you back.”
“Are you Saint Peter, then?”
“No, I am know as Jesus.”
“But I thought Peter let people into heaven.”
“He does. He was the man on the first platform.”
“That was Peter?”
“Yes. He hasn’t been feeling well. Usually, he is much more demonstrative.”
“Wow. So now what?”
“Now, you may enter the gates of Heaven, right up here at the top of the steps.”
“Thank you,” I said. I let go, and started up the final steps. At the top, I could see the children, laughing and jumping, happy to see me coming up to meet them. Behind me, the man in white robes telled, “Take the Chevy.”
I ran into the childrens’ arms, and cried as I felt the love they shared with me,.
“Where do we go now?”
“Over here,” said Jesse. They led me to a row of cars, of all things, a couple dozen feet from the top of the steps. The first one was the Chevy. It was a beauty, a white behemoth like my dad had when I was young. Much cleaner, and no dents or dings.
I opened the door, and saw a note and map on the front seat.
“Please take the children with you, and follow the route on the map. There you will find the place where you’ll all stay.”
“Come on kids,” I yelled. “Get in. We’re going home.”