For the rest of the day, Eve and I hike south, away from the habitat, away from the river, and away from the monstrous bears. Away from everything we know, but especially from the freakishly large grizzly bears with rhino horns. The thought of the creatures makes me check the path behind us, maintaining a constant vigil to keep us safe. To keep Eve safe. That's all I care about. I have nothing before her. I have no memory of our past life, only the sound of her voice and the softness of her touch, even if it's by accident, and even then it's enough to make me want more. Another word from her lips and another brush of our hands.

For that, we must stay alive.

At midday, we break to eat from our freeze-dried food and gulp down a pouch of water. I have a three-day supply and so does she. That's nine meals, three a day. Now we have eight left per person, and even dipping into our bags for the first one makes me realize soon it will run out. Then we'll have to survive off the land, and I know the reality of our situation. It'll take time to grow crops from the seeds I swiped from the habitat, and that means we have to hunt and gather to keep from starving.

On the bright side, flowers had bloomed on the forest floor: a variety of white, yellow, and violet. I don't know what kind they are, but Jinx could tell us if he was here. Of course, he might not want to talk to us if he harbors anger, if it's possible for artificial intelligence to do such a thing. But putting a name on each flower isn't important when just their existence is what's meaningful. With more space between the trees, sunlight breaks through the canopy above us and brings the world beneath it to life. The reseeding had sprinkled the colors about in every direction and makes me almost forget the threat of the bears as we push onward.

Of course, how could anything make me forget how close we came to death?

When I think about that harsh fact, that yesterday we awoke from stasis and today we're here, in Yellowstone, on the run with just over twenty-four hours' worth of memories to fuel our march into the unknown, it confuses me. The knowledge transfers gave us a jumpstart, but it boggles my mind to consider the madness of it all. There's only one thing that anchors my thoughts and gives me solace, but even that hangs in doubt. If I can somehow cling to that hope, nothing else will matter.

As long as we don't get eaten by the creatures of the new Earth.

The farther we trek, the more that anchor of truth, my only solace, loses its hold and the question I asked Jinx weighs on me. Is there a real chance for Eve and me to rediscover the love we had for each other before the global ocean washed everything away? The question perches on my shoulders so heavily I have to ask her what she thinks about it.

I know, for all intents and purposes, it was only yesterday when I met her for the first time. Yesterday. I met the woman I call my wife yesterday, but I sense there's more to our story than what I remember. I feel it. It permeates my being. It drifts around me like a ghost in the wind, but when I turn and look for it, it disappears.

Regardless, if I ever remember the life we had, I know this one thing—right here, right now, she's my only friend—and if I lose her...

I don't know what I'd do.

"What do you think about the question I asked Jinx this morning?"

Eve glances down. "Which one?"

"I think you know which one," I say. "The one about whether we'll ever rediscover the—"

"Oh. That one," she replies. "Well, that's an interesting topic for a walk in the forest."

By now, the sun shines from the west. Its rays, though filtered through spruce needles, warms my cheek.

I forge on with my line of thinking, hoping to arouse something inside of her. "I admit from our limited perspective, all we know is we woke up from hibernation, got strapped into a habitat—basically a ginormous reentry vehicle—then we smacked down to Earth in the middle of a savage wildlife preserve."

"That's an accurate description of our current predicament."

"What I'm saying is," I glance at Eve as we walk, "is that we're supposed to be married. According to Abraham—"

"Are you talking about the same Abraham who lied to us about the reseeding?"

"He didn't lie to us."

"Did he tell us the truth about his animal project going on down here?" Eve bumps my elbow on purpose. Her tank-top has dried out. Even her cargo pants are a shade lighter. Her scarlet hair dangles against her bare shoulders, a light spattering of freckles visible. So mild of a splash on her fair skin I can barely see them.

"No, but he didn't intend for us to end up in Yellowstone."

"You're right. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. None of this. The habitat. The reseeding. Us."

"Us?" I say.

"I meant our escape from the habitat."

"Of course, that's what you meant."

We move on in silence for a while, birds chirping in the trees, flower pedals fluttering in a gentle whisper of air. Time seems to slow around us. I think about who we are and where we are, at least what we know so far about ourselves and this place. But I let the subject of Eve and I, our supposed relationship, fall to the ground, for now.

I sigh loud enough for her to hear me, and her chin turns my way, but she says nothing. For the moment, I settle for our stroll in the forest. We're together and we're not dead. That's a start.

"What are we are doing here?" Eve breaks the silence.

"What do you mean?"

"How are we going to survive this planet?"

"I don't know." I shake my head, opening my palms to the sky. "Take it one day at a time, I guess. We have little choice in the matter."

"Maybe we should go back to the hab?" Eve stops, grabs my wrist and turns me to face her. "Jinx said if we left, we would surely die. As in dead."

"I know what he meant." When I stare at her, I feel the heat behind my eyes. "You're the one who wanted to leave. Remember? In the Embryo Lab?"

"I recall you suggesting the possibility yesterday when we visited the catwalks."

"Yeah, but right there in the lab, in the same room with all the animal embryos, you said you wanted to leave. Guess you thought if we stayed and filled the Animal Barn, you might have to make some babies with me too?" I say it that way to skirt around the directness of talking about sex.

"Those are two very different things."

The serious pinch of her brows and the stern set to her jaw make me smile.

Warmth floods my face. "Let's do it then."

Eve's eyes grow large and her chin drops. "Make babies?"

I laugh out loud. "No. Turn back."

"Oh."

As we stand in the middle of the forest, the sun drops lower in the sky and the surrounding air grows dim and eerily still in a matter of minutes.

"I thought you meant..."

"I know what you thought," I say. "I was playing with you. I never would want you to do anything if you didn't want to, but I was serious about turning back. If you want to go back to the habitat, we'll go. We believed we were making the right decision about leaving. We had no clue what awaited us out here."

With twilight setting in, Eve wags her head. "No. It's too late to turn back now. We need to find somewhere to sleep for the night. And hide."

I nod and shrug. She's right. Besides, I'm not in the mood for arguing anymore.

Up ahead, as we resume our journey, a dead limb snaps. The sound cracks the silence and makes the absence of noise around us more obvious. It's like the forest has sprung a trap, and the net is about to draw tight around us.

There's a snort and a grumble as the sun's dying embers casts a faint reflection off a pair of eyes set between the trunks of two enormous trees.

My heart leaps in my throat and I latch onto Eve's arm, jerking her in the opposite direction as the massive girth of a rhino-bear sidesteps the trees and bursts into a gallop after us. Apparently, the territory of the creatures extends farther south of the river than I estimated, and now Eve and I are back in their sights.

As we flee, I realize we should have been more quiet, but all we can do now is run. And once again, that's what we do.

We run for our lives.