To Live Forever: An Afterlife Journey of Meriwether Lewis by Andra Watkins

fine life, until it unraveled at the end. The trick with stories was how to seed them with flecks of truth without revealing anything. Knowing which bits to tell, what parts to conceal. I cleared my throat. My story was boring. The military. Some aimless wandering out West. Desk job in St. Louis for a while. Not nearly as interesting as his.
    Or, maybe I projected how I knew history must see me.
    Jim’s eyes bored through me. Plumbed the depths of a life lived deeper than I let on.
    I tipped my head back and studied the sky to avoid his stare. “It’s going to be a long night. Mind if I take a nap?”
    “I was thinking of taking one myself.”
    We left the boat anchored and stretched our limbs along the warm deck, and I covered my face with my hat. Some sleep would do us both good.
    It was a creak that woke me. The boat moved in a gentle rhythm. Not fast. I blinked to clear the sleep from my eyes, because I couldn’t see the shoreline, or even the front of the boat. When I was fully awake, I realized it wasn’t bleary eyes. The sky was a white-out, a breath that ducked and swirled. An eerie light penetrated through the mist here and there.
    Fog, smoky and rolling.
    I felt along the side and stuck my head into the hold. Emmaline’s door was still closed. Dinner dishes were strung around the kitchen where I’d left them. In the cockpit, I checked the time on the console. 6:22 PM. That much dead sleep would have to be enough.
    I groped along the side of the boat, bumping into Jim on the way. The fog swirled over his skin, turning it lighter. He rubbed the nap from his eyes and blinked at me. Stirred. His muscles crippled with sleep.
    When I leaned over to look at the river, fog was all I could see.
    “Merry? Where are you?” Emmaline’s hoarse voice drifted from the cockpit doorway. Her outline materialized when I approached.
    “I’m right here, Em.”
    “I can’t see anything.”
    Jim got up and lumbered to the controls, while I went over to Em and put an arm around her slight shoulders. She rested her tangled head on my waist. Her voice was raspy with exhaustion. “Did you eat all the fish?”
    I had to smile, in spite of our circumstances. “Naw. I left you a little piece.”
    “Where?”
    “In the cooler. Go on down and get it out, and I’ll heat it up for you.”
    She put one dainty foot backwards on the top rung of the ladder and almost fell when a horn blasted through the shroud of air. Close. The approaching roar of multiple engines crescendoed along the surface of the water.
    Em teetered, and I pulled her off the ladder and set her on the deck beside me. Her thin arms went around my waist, and her eyes were wide awake when she looked at me. She settled into me, and I accepted her weight. Like I imagined a father cared for his daughter. I’d never know. But I tried.
    I slammed into the cockpit and studied the bank of instruments, alien things to a man like me. I knew how to use the sun and stars. New-fangled technology whipped me. Jim worked a knob with sausage fingers, and I watched him, helpless.
    “Any of those things tell them we’re here?”
    “The radio, but it’s a crapshoot to divine which frequency.”
    A horn sounded again, the strength of it vibrating our wooden deck.
    “Can they see us, Merry?” Emmaline stood next to me. I never felt her slip her hand in mine, but I gripped it anyway. Empty reassurance: it was better than nothing from a leader, especially if it was swathed in a dose of honesty. My best, my only, answer.
    Shouting wouldn’t work—no one would hear us over the drone of engines and parting water. Sounds trapped in a blanket of white that played tricks on me.
    “Get below, Em. Jim, you got any kind of raft or life jackets? Something that will keep us afloat if we get hit?”
    “Yep. Someplace in back. Go have a look, Emmaline.”
    At least four separate engines rumbled through the mist, right on top of us. The wheel of our craft throbbed in Jim’s hands. Tobacco