Christopher pulled the straps as tight as he could, then patted the canoe. “She feels pretty solid to me. You ready to go?” I nodded and took a deep breath. This was going to be the wildest trip we had ever taken.

We hopped in the ancient Subaru. He grinned and gave me a quick kiss before starting it up. “Hey Subie,” said Christopher, “Take us to Gate 35.” The map popped on the screen, Christopher tapped the green button, and we backed out of the driveway. I was anxious about the trip, but despite his habitual calm, I could tell he was absolutely buzzing underneath.

In four hours, we were in a short line waiting our turn to pass through the gate. Most who left the Bio-Bubble were scientists and miners, but ever since I read about the Ohio River with the crumbling industrial towns lining its banks, my mind wouldn’t rest until I saw it for myself. Now, it turned out, Christopher had some connections at the Office of Mineral Resources who were able to get him a permit.

At the guard station, he lowered his window. “Permits,” said the guard, a red-faced man in an austere gray uniform. Christopher held up his arm and the guard scanned his watch. “You know what you’re doing, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “The changing room is over there. Put on your suits and oxygen masks and make sure everything is sealed up tight. Once you activate your masks, you have exactly twenty-four hours of oxygen, but don’t push it. When you’re back in your vehicle, I’ll open this gate. Pull through and wait for it to shut behind you. When the signal’s green, press the button to open the next gate. Return procedure is the same. Remember, twenty-four hours, no more.” 

I trembled as I put on my suit. “What if something happens and we can’t get back in twenty-four hours?” 

“We’ll be fine,” Christopher hugged me. “The car is fully charged and I just had the brakes repaired and the whole thing inspected. We’ll be back in plenty of time.” I exhaled, so grateful for him. 

“Okay, let’s do this.”

On the other side of the gates, the road was pockmarked gravel, the landscape dry and barren. We drove several hours through miles of long-abandoned towns and old piles of brick. Nothing moved, not a dragonfly or a distant bird. 

Finally, we approached a metal fence near a couple of enormous cylindrical towers, once some kind of factory. We pulled onto a ramp that descended straight into a wide expanse of black water. We eagerly got out, unstrapped the canoe, and put in. 

As we floated, I gazed at the crumbling buildings, the emptiness, marveling at the silence, and then I smiled at Christopher. I couldn’t believe we were here. He looked intently at me through our masks, taking my hand.

“I want us to spend the rest of our lives adventuring together. Will you marry me?” His voice was muffled.

In the distance, a splash. I squinted, my reply caught in my throat. The Subaru was sliding into the water.

“I don’t think the brakes were fixed after all,” I said.