This video contains work on both chapters 4 and 5

There was a thick coating of dust on Freya’s bicycle and everything else. The garage was Randall's place, there was an unspoken agreement that Lassa wouldn’t bother him while he was in there and it had gone on even after he died. There was the red tool chest on wheels, his free weights, and the ancient BZBbook laptop that he played old video games on. His telescope was there, under its dropcloth, and there was the faint smell of oil from his tan pickup truck. Their bicycles hung on hooks in the wall. Randall had been far less organized than Lassa, and the garage had a comfortable cluttered feel to it.

Freya took her bicycle down from the wall rack. Both the tires needed air and she pumped them up with the hand pump so she didn't have to turn on the compressor. She took Randall's bike down and pumped up his tires too. She wasn’t sure why she’d done that, but it made her feel a little better. She left Lassa's bike alone and opened the garage door.

It was too cold outside for the jacket she had on, but it wouldn’t matter soon. She realized she was leaving without a helmet, and she told herself she didn’t need one where she was going. But Randall had always insisted on helmets. She wound up turning back around in the driveway to grab hers off the wall. It was stupid how she still couldn't shake that off.

Listen darling.

The clouds were thick overhead, and Freya wondered if she should even bother to bring the case. Here and there she could see the stars shining through rents in the sky. She slung the case behind her and shot down the driveway, then began to bike north up Willow Road. The oil had dried up on her shifters and they clacked loudly as she changed gears to get up the long hill. There wasn't much of a shoulder on the road, and she felt nervous as cars whipped around her in the night, but again, wasn't that a stupid thing to worry about? The air smelled like damp leaves and woodsmoke and she pedaled harder to stay warm. She regretted not bringing a heavier jacket.

She climbed up the hill and the moon broke through the clouds, at the apex she could see three deer standing in the middle of the road looking down at her, one was a stag and she could make out the outline of his antlers in the moonlight. As she got closer the three sprang across the road and disappeared into the woods, she could hear them bouncing away in the crackling leaves.

High beams cast her shadow far ahead of her. A truck roared up the road behind her and laid on its horn, her whole body jolted with surprise. Country music was booming out of opened windows, she could hear them laughing at her as the tore up the road.

Assholes. She hoped they got in a wreck.

It was stupid to be out here on her own at night. If a cop saw her she would probably get pulled over. But what could a they do? It was a free country, if she wanted to ride her bike at night, she could do that, no matter how dumb it was. She ran through the confrontation in her mind until she was over the hill, and had to focus on the steep decline.

Her bike rocketed downhill and trees whipped past. It would be easy to let her speed get away from her, there were clumps of wet leaves sticking to the road.

Just let go, she urged herself, but she got scared and a second later her dusty brakes were squealing into the night. She nearly missed the turnoff for the picnic trail, and she had to stop short. The park was closed and there was a chain hanging between two concrete posts. If not for the moonlight she would have crashed into it and gone flying.

Instead she got off her bike and walked it down the muddy trail. Her shoes squelched and the bike tires made a sound like a paint roller on the wet ground.

She really should have brought the parka. The clouds drifted over the moon again and suddenly it was pitch black on the trail. It never seemed like a long walk during the day, but it felt like forever in the dark. She rolled her ankle on a big rock, and caught herself against the bike. It stung, but she took a few ginger steps and decided she could walk it off.

She was surprised to find she wasn't afraid. She was blundering into the dark, in the middle of the woods, alone at night and she felt an electric sense of adventure. It was just a little park by the river, she'd been here a hundred times, but never at night, never in the dark on her own, and there was the sense that anything could happen. She could hear the sound of the river getting louder as she walked, it was swollen with the rain.

At the clearing by the river she leaned her bike against one of the concrete picnic tables, and took off her helmet. There were pools of cold water on the table, and she swept them away with her hand before she set the case down. The moon had slipped out of the clouds again, and it was bright, almost full.

She undid the clasp and took out Randall's Celestron binoculars. They were 20x70mm, far bigger than normal binoculars, and designed for exactly this. She looked at the moon first, an old friend. There was Tycho and Kepler and Copernicus, she knew all the big craters, and then the seas of Cold and Tranquility and Nectar. There were too many seas to know them all but she remembered most.

Taurus was hidden behind the clouds, and she peered at where she thought it ought to be and lowered the binoculars. The Taurids weren't as spectacular as the Perseids, which she'd missed this year. The moon was bright, trying to steal the show. Still, it would be nice to see a few before...

Freya paused. Did she still intend to climb out onto the rocks? She'd been so sure at the house, certain it was the way. But that was before the feeling of plunging into the dark, the first excitement she'd felt in so long. She brushed off the top of the table again and sat down, still feeling wetness soaking through her jeans. The rifts in the sky had shifted and she realized she’d been off before, Taurus was farther to her right.

For a long time she gazed through the binoculars, breathing shallow and waiting. The cold seeped in, and she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. There were no sandwiches, there was no thermos of soup, no cigar. No father. A brilliant finger of light shot across the sky, a Taurid.

"Look Freya, shooting stars," she said.

She set the binoculars down on the table, squeezed her eyes shut and let out a single sob. She returned the binoculars to their case and fastened the clasp. Then she walked towards the rocks.