Jinx guides the tracer's liftoff to get us high above the treetops, limbs scraping the transparent sphere as we ascend. When we're clear, I take control and steer us northwest for a brief clip. The path takes us over the river, past the water wheel and the large generator. We left the unit offline but usable if we returned someday. Embarking on a new journey—picking up our roots and leaving what we know behind—has become the norm. Another day in our tumultuous lives.

To starboard, I peer out and observe the territory beyond the opposite bank, searching for predators. It's not long before I spot several creatures knifing through the gaps between trees. Vile wolves. I'd recognize them anywhere. I assume the creatures have wandered farther north because of spring, or a dwindling food supply, or a more likely scenario forced here by the volcanic activity. As long as we remain in the air, they are of no concern to us.

Our flight takes us over the rocket ship and the mountain, where melting snow channels its way into narrow streams, gushing into the valley, and into the rushing river. I chose this path on purpose to say goodbye to this part of our lives. Regardless of how I left the generator and the cabin, I know we'll never return to this place. Soon, it'll be a distant memory as we take the next step toward a better future.

As we zoom above the rocket ship, its outer hull gleaming in the morning sun, I drop my foot on the accelerator and angle the turbines so we can climb higher into the sky. With the mapping system locked on a southwest heading, bound for what used to be known as the Oregon coast, the tracer speeds up and soars over the mountaintop. The first leg of the trip spans over six hundred miles. At one hundred miles-an-hour it will take us six hours to get to what I call our last chance stop... our last opportunity to pee before our flight takes us over the Pacific Ocean for the journey's longest stretch.

Besides allowing Jinx to pilot the tracer, we also have the autopilot, which I plan to use, but not for a while. Right now, I want a distraction, something to take my mind off the fear of the unknown. Also, I don't feel comfortable flying the tracer at its maximum speed. Two hundred and fifty miles an hour might not be fast for a jet pilot or an astronaut, but it's lightning fast for me.

Next to me, Eve holds Autumn and Ash in her lap, teasing them with a stuffed-sock toy over their heads, swooshing it down to ruffle their cheeks. It entertains them. After feeding the twins, they're happy and attentive to the sights and sounds in the cockpit. The turbines thrum on each wing, but the polycarbonate fuselage shields the cabin from the high decibel levels. They seem soothed by the vibrations and the mild humming that penetrates the exterior shell. In the floorboard, the little goat curls around Eve's ankles, its brown and white coat like cozy feet warmers.

"So," I say. "What are we going to call the goat?"

"Haven't thought about it." Eve peeks around behind Autumn's back, glancing down to catch sight of the animal. "When I look at her, Daisy comes to mind."

"What about Daisy Mae?"

She gives me a straightforward nod. "I like it, but we'll only use her full name when she's in trouble."

"A pet goat named Daisy Mae. Why not?"

Ash grins and Autumn goos. I think they approve.

Despite the lighthearted moment, my mind goes back to the wolf pack I saw a few minutes ago. I'm happy to be in the sky and able to enjoy security, but then I consider the giant condors I battled at the habitat. When I recall how one bird brought down the other tracer craft, I can't help but search the puffy clouds for flapping wings. A crash like that could be fatal for us all.

"Why the tense narrowing of the eyes?" Eve stares at me. "And the ridged jawline?"

"Thinking about how things could go wrong."

"I'm excited about a change." She offers a tentative smile. "You should be too. I think we made the right decision to take Jude up on his offer."

The condor topic is something I avoid, especially since she didn't bring it up. I don't want to arouse unnecessary fear. I just keep a vigilant lookout on the horizon, my hands on the T-handle and the yoke stick. Occasionally, I make minor course corrections while monitoring our heading, matching it with the map on the dashboard display.

"Aren't you happy about it too?" Eve presses.

"Of course I am. But more than anything, I hate to leave without telling Abraham about it. He'll be worried sick."

"I doubt he cares about us that much. Not as individuals. Maybe as humanity's presence on Earth, but not as people." She frowns. "He'd only try to talk us out of it."

I nod, knowing she's right. About most of it, at least.

"We can still contact him with the computer or the tablet you brought from the lab. It connects to the mainframe wirelessly. But..."

"What?" I cast an eye at her.

"Do we need to contact him again?"

"We might need to."

"Wouldn't it only cause problems?"

I wonder if the reason Jinx hasn't shared his opinion is because of his damaged comms? With his weapons damaged too, he can't stop us, no matter what we decide. The drone rides on the outside of the tracer, attached to the rear charging dock. Or maybe he can't talk to us through the onboard system because the saber cats damaged his comms? Now that I think about it, that makes sense.

"I'm just excited for Autumn and Ash," Eve says. "And the other children."

I glance behind us at the artificial wombs. Little lights blink, letting us know they're on battery power. The display screens read normal vitals, which comforts me knowing they're okay. "Jude still hasn't given us much to go on besides the coordinates."

"He's in Hawaii, and if he can contact us from that far away, he must have a ton of resources."

"You're right," I say. "His people must have capabilities much like Abraham, except on Earth. This decision is as much mine as it is yours. I'll just be happy when we get there. In one piece."

"You're more worried about the predators."

"It's a big concern, yeah."

She leans to the side and presses her forehead to the polycarbonate door, obviously searching for threats on the ground in the forest between the mountain peaks. "Truth is, I have this lingering doubt about our deal with Jude. I don't know why. Despite their resources and possible goodwill, I can't seem to shake it. However, I can't imagine why someone would want to do anything but help people. I mean, what ulterior motives can he or his so-called employer have?"

"It's something to think about," I say. "For sure."

"We had to go somewhere, didn't we?"

I nod while gnawing on my bottom lip. "We could go anywhere, though."

"But where? One of the other habitats?" Eve shakes her head. "If the other habs are anything like that rundown one we discovered in the middle of that newly formed ginormous grand canyon... then," she shrugs, "they won't be much help to us."

"I agree."

"Where else can we go?" she asks.

I can see she's trying to justify that we're making the right decision. "You have a point."

"So then, Jude's offer is our best choice, right?"

"Now that we've discussed it and laid it out as plain as day, I'd say so."

Eve and I share a last nod and consider the matter settled. For now.

We arrive at the coast by early afternoon with the sun hanging in a clear blue sky, warming the beach, even with the wind gusting and bending the tall grass sprouting from the sand. With the twins napping in Eve's lap, we circle the shoreline, sweeping out over the breaking waves and back over land, scoping for threats. Finding none, I put the craft down near the water.

I had wedged the rifles on the floorboard next to the door. The magazines hold fifteen 30-30 rounds. In a compartment in the middle console, I packed four extra mags. I hope they won't be necessary. We packed the tracer so full we have little leg room and can only recline our chairs a few inches. To begin with, I wondered if we'd have trouble getting airborne. After six hours, my backside is numb and my back aching. The rest stop is mandatory in my mind.

As Eve lays Autumn and Ash on a blanket on the floorboard, still asleep, I take a rifle, and with a rope leash, walk the baby goat around for a view of the coast. The wind scours the beach, lifting sand and flinging it into the air. I squint to keep it out of my eyes.

After getting used to real, homegrown food, I frown at the prospects of eating any of the freeze-dried reserves, but that's all we could cram into our backpacks, along with the water pouches. We drank about half of the water we brought in our canteens. The screw on filters can purify more, but there aren't any streams near the ocean.

With Jinx monitoring for predators, Eve spreads a spare blanket out over the sand, and after Daisy and I have relieved our bladders, we sit for a picnic, stretching our legs.

It's hard to tell, but I sense a slight tremor. Yellowstone may be six hundred miles away, but the volcano makes its presence known even here. The mild rumbling intensifies for a few nerve-rattling seconds, reinforcing our decision to leave. Soon it dissipates, and not long after, my anxiety calms.

As the wind blows and the surf rolls in, I flashback to our last moments on the cruise ship. We're in the middle of what we used to call the Gulf of Mexico. Waves as big as mountains tower around us, forcing us from the decks with the largest windows down into the lowest parts of the ship. There's nowhere else to go. The wind howls and the waves pound the luxury vessel, rocking the hull and filling the halls and staterooms with the terrifying sounds of a mega storm. As the floor sways and rolls, we hunker down next to a bunk, shaking, my heart hammering away, holding Eve as tightly as I can.

In a few brief moments, we cry, saying how much we love each other, and then, in a blur, our world turns upside down, and we crash into the ceiling. Everything goes black. When I come to, water is rushing all around us. Soon after, it floods up to our necks as we wade out into the hallway. With the floor above us and the ceiling beneath, we struggle through the dark water. Then a surge sweeps over our heads and the lights go out for good, the vision over.

That's it. That's how it ended.

On the beach, I sit next to Eve, my breath lost in the breeze. I know beyond any doubt that I just relived the last moments of the original Noah and Eve Grey.

"Are you okay?" Eve asks, her eyes darkening.

I can only nod my reply, sparing her what I experienced. When my breath returns and my heart rate eases up, I realize our life with the original Abraham ended a long time ago. After the vision, I decide our current relationship with him ends now.

"I think it's time." I rise and open the tracer door on Eve's side.

"What are you doing?"

"Something that needs to be done." I remove the touchscreen computer that can connect and monitor a multitude of various systems. It's our primary link to Abraham. Without it, reaching him is impossible, even with the smaller tablet.

I haul the computer on my shoulder and head toward the water.

"If you do that..." she says.

"We've made our decision."

"But what if we need to contact Abraham?" Eve reaches for the computer. "There's no going back after this."

"You're right." I stare at her, unyielding, until she relents and understands. "We do it together. No going back."

She nods. "Together."

In agreement, we toss the computer into the waves and return to the tracer. Then, our little family, with our goat, climbs aboard and takes off again on the longest and final leg of our journey. Kauai, Hawaii, lies due west, 2,519 miles from the Oregon coast.

Ten hours away.