They reached the bottom of the tower as a section of the cliff face opposite the tower collapsed, a loud roar of rock and dust. The plume rose like a mushroom cloud as they began to climb the wooden steps. The tower swayed dangerously with each step they took, the wood groaning like a scream beneath their feet.
Onward, upward, climbing the stairs that wrapped around the tower. Had Jeremy done this? Had he come back here and climbed these steps again? Had he thought about the first time they’d come here? Back when things were easier, back when things still made sense. How did that make him feel? What did he think about? Did he cry? Did he smile? Did he feel a sense of peace that lasted only for a short while?
The top of the tower was shuttered, the door locked, but that didn’t matter. They didn’t need to go inside. They reached the railing that looked out over the valley and witnessed the beginning of the end.
It looked as if the forest was undulating,breathingas the ground rolled beneath it. Trees swayed left and right, up and down. Some fell with distant crashes. Through the trees, ball lightning illuminated fleeing animals: deer, rodents, birds.
“Jesus Christ,” Rodney breathed at the scene before them. “Oh my god.”
Don, too, was transfixed, but then he shook his head. Setting his backpack on the floor, he began to dig through it. Growing frantic, he thought Jeremy was gone, either left in the truck or fallen out on the journey to the tower. He was about to bellow in rage when his fingers brushed against a familiar shape. Hand closing around it, he pulled out the box that held the last remains of their son.
He clutched it against his chest and swallowed past the lump in his throat. The tower swayed as Rodney placed his hands on top of Don’s.
“Let me,” he said.
Don breathed in. Don breathed out. He nodded.
Rodney gently lifted the lid of the chest. Inside, six empty divots in blue felt. On the far right of the chest, the remaining vial. About six inches long with a cork stopper at the top. Inside, gray ash speckled with flecks of black. Jeremy, their son. The boy who’d needed a home. Rodney was right. They’d done the best they could. It wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t Jeremy’s, either. It was just luck. Rotten, miserable luck.
Don showed Rodney the vial as he stood. “I have him. I—”
Unfair. It was so goddamn unfair, because right as Don held up the vial, the tower lurched to the right, causing them both to stumble into the railing. Don gasped when his elbow hit first, a flash of bright pain rolling up his arm. His hand flexed involuntarily, and the vial fell to the floor, rolling toward the edge.
Failed, Don thought even as he began to move.We failed him. We failed then, we failed him now. One last thing, and we couldn’t even—
Rodney moved faster. Just as the vial reached the edge of the platform and began to tilt and tilt and tilt, Rodney fell to his knees, hand flashing out. For a moment, Don thought he’d knock the ashes over, but Rodney managed to grab the vial before it fell.
Neither of them spoke for a long minute.
Rodney eventually stood slowly, face pale. “Now,” he said in a shaky voice. “We have to finish this now.”
And so they did. Here, at the end of their journey, at the end of the world, they did. Standing side by side, shoulders touching. Rodney held up the vial. With trembling hands, Don struggled momentarily with the cork stopper. It finally pulled free with a mutedpop. Bits of ash clung to the end of the cork.
“Oh, the places you’ll go,” Don whispered.
“Where the wild things are,” Rodney replied.
They hadn’t said much the previous six times they’d spread his ashes. Words felt meaningless, empty, compared to all that Jeremy was. No matter the outcome, no matter what had led to that outcome, Jeremy was their son. He was theirs, their own, not flesh and blood but theirs, regardless. All the darkness compared little to the burning fire that had been Jeremy.
Rodney said, “I’d do it all over again. Even if it would end the same way, I’d do it all over again. For him.”
“Me too,” Don said in a choked voice. “All of it.”
Don closed his hand around Rodney’s, holding the vial. They did not count. They did not say a word. They just stood there for a moment in a swaying tower. And then, without thinking, they turned their hands at the same time.
The ash spilled out, catching the wind. It took maybe three, four seconds for the vial to empty, and yet, a lifetime passed from the first granule to the last.
And then.
There would be no later to think back on what they saw. There would be no time to ponder, no chance to revel in the mysteries of the universe. But that did not matter because for a moment, a second or two, really, the ash cloud took on the shape of a face, as if someone stood on the other side and was leaning forward.
At the same time, Don and Rodney whispered, “Jeremy?”
A trick of the light? A wish fulfilled? Or was it there simply because they wanted it to be? The smile widened, and then it dissipated, the ash blowing away. They watched it until they could see it no more.
“He burned so bright,” Rodney said, arm wrapped around Don’s shoulders.
Don wiped his eyes. “We all did. Every single one of us.”