The hotel was even grimier than Abel expected. And he’d expected a lot of grime.

It was a seedy, windowless little place with hardly enough room for the siblings to move about with their scant belongings. When they first entered, the three of them were so taken aback that nobody wanted to be the first to set their backpack down or to flop on the queen-sized bed.

The rug was splotchy and stained, the bedspread looked as if it had been thrown into a room full of cats, one of the ceiling lights was out, and the holovid screen was even smaller than Abel’s laptop. The ancient, peeling wallpaper reminded Abel of the way shadows used to fall on his bedroom wall and frighten him as a little boy. Dust lay thick everywhere except the bed frame and end table—which the staff had probably wiped in an attempt to make the room look habitable.

The crowning jewel was the single painting hanging over the head of the bed. It was a portrait of a retro rock singer—who called himself, for whatever reason, Bug Eyes—whose career was influential but short-lived. It wasn’t even a very good likeness of him. The artist had painted him in a swirling rainbow of clashing colors.

“Well,” Abel said after a long moment. “I guess we can settle in.”

Evie grimaced. “If I touch anything, I’m going to catch a disease.”

“I’m with her on this one,” Wes said.

“Come on guys, it’s not that bad,” Abel said. “And besides, it was cheap, so we can stay here for a couple days, or more, if we have to.”

“I don’t want to stay anywhere where that guy watches me sleeping,” Evie said, pointing to the portrait.

“Ignore him,” Abel said. “It’s just Bug Eyes.”

“Who?” Evie and Wes chorused.

“Bug Eyes, you know, the singer? He used to… oh, whatever. Mom and Dad used to listen to him all the time when we were younger.”

Abel hefted his backpack from his shoulder and dumped it on the bed. He leaned over the mattress and pressed on it with all his weight, testing the springs. It seemed soft enough to sleep on—better, at least, than a sidewalk somewhere—and he clambered atop it, sitting cross-legged by the pillows and pulling his backpack near. As he drew out his laptop, Evie hopped up beside him.

“Think this holo gets cable?” Evie asked. “Oh! Do you think we could catch the season finale of Leftovers?”

Abel sighed. “You can look for it if you really want to.”

Evie squealed and tumbled off the bed again in search of a remote. Wes had wandered across the room to the only visible door and cracked it open. He peered inside.

“This is the scariest bathroom I have ever seen,” Wes said. “People have probably died in here.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Abel said as he typed his password.

“It’s ON!” Evie squealed.

She ran and leaped up beside Abel again, wriggling like a fish. She twisted to see the holo, then cuddled against his arm and gazed at the holo screen, eyes wide and smile even wider. Wes returned from the bathroom with a shudder and joined them, sitting on Abel’s opposite side.

While they were preoccupied with the blood-and-guts show, Abel connected to the hotel wifi and went to his email. It was empty, as always, but he delved into a folder he never opened when other people were around—one he hadn’t opened in months. Inside was a single email. He had read it a hundred times. Maybe two hundred. He could probably recite it by memory, but that wasn’t his focus right now. He clicked it. It said:

Dear Abel,

Do not reply to this email. I want you to know things have changed, and I won’t be home for a very long time. I am no longer on my original assignment, but don’t worry about me. Look after your brother and sister, and your Mom, but don’t let them see this. I love you all and I promise I will come home.

Love,

Dad

Abel stared at the words. It was a long shot, he knew. There could be a million reasons Dad didn’t want him to reply to the message. Perhaps a higher-up would find out, and Dad would get in trouble. Perhaps the return address was long dead. Perhaps Dad would never be able to check it again. But right now, that didn’t matter. He had to try everything.

Abel clicked ‘Reply’ and put his fingers to the keyboard.

Dad,

We have to find you. Mom is gone. Don’t come home—we’re not there. Just tell us where you are, and we’ll come to you. We’re being hunted. Please reply soon.

Love,

Abel

He almost wrote ‘Wes and Evie’ after his own name, but then didn’t. Dad hadn’t wanted them to see the email in the first place.

“What’s that?” Wes asked.

Oops, Abel thought.

“Is that… from Dad?” Wes pressed against Abel’s shoulder to peer at the screen.

“What?” Evie tore her eyes from the holo and looked at Abel’s laptop.

Abel groaned. “Yes. I got it a long time ago. He didn’t want anyone else to know, but this isn’t the time to be keeping secrets. We need all the help we can get, and if Dad sees this, he can help us.”

“You mean you’ve had this for a long time and you didn’t tell us?” Wes asked.

“Yes, but—”

“What does he mean, he’s not on his original assignment?” Evie asked. “Where else would the army send him than border defense? That’s the only thing people ever talk about on the news.”

Abel rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. And to be fair, he asked me not to tell you. This is the only word I’ve ever had from him, and I thought it would be a good thing not to break our father’s trust. But… now things are different. We need him.”

The other two fell silent. Their eyes were still on his screen, reading and re-reading the email, just as Abel had done for days after he first received it. He looked at his reply. It had sent. So far, he had gotten no ‘Message Send Failure’ notification, so there might yet be hope. He worked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Oh!” Evie blurted. “I forgot! How could I forget?”

She launched off the bed and dove for her backpack in a flurry of arms and legs. Abel and Wes looked after her, brows furrowed.

“Forgot what?” Wes asked.

Evie spun, holding a piece of paper aloft. “Dad’s letter! He sent it the same day we left home, but I stuck it in my backpack that first night and forgot all about it.”

Abel sat up straight. “A letter?”

“Great job, Evie,” Wes said. “We could’ve used this information two days ago.”

“Shut up,” Evie said, hopping back into bed.

“Don’t argue,” Abel said, plucking the letter from Evie’s hand. “Let’s read it.”