Jonas was cold and desperately hungry. He felt alone, despite the fact that baby Gabe was shivering in his thin blanket feet away. His bicycle, bent at an odd angle halfway down the snowy hill, was worthless. There was no way Jonas could get up and continue walking; Elsewhere was not within his reach.

"Sorry, Gabe," he muttered, shifting his head slightly to look at the newchild. "I tried to save you. I really did."

Gabe, of course, didn't answer. Jonas sighed and turned once again to look at the gray sky above him, which was now peppered with snowflakes.

Ice burned into his back, seeping through his threadbare tunic to his partially frozen skin. He gathered Gabe into his arms and the two of them concentrated only on taking breath after breath, thoughts erased from their minds, chests heaving in unison.

Jonas could feel his limbs seizing up, but he couldn't seem to let go. He had spent his last few days trying as hard as he could to keep Gabe alive, and that couldn't have been for nothing.

I can't give up now, Jonas thought, ever so slowly getting to his feet. Clutching Gabe, he stumbled over to his stranded bicycle and attempted to work it. Pedal, he thought furiously, but the bike didn't move an inch. Fine. He kicked it to the ground and stomped back to the top of the hill he had just fallen down, looking back at the slope below him. The hill was steep, and there was no way he could ever hope to get Gabe down it without injuring himself. What good would he be to the helpless newchild with a broken leg?

At that moment, Gabe popped his curly head out of the bundle Jonas was clutching and pointed a chubby finger at the sky. "Plane!" he cried.

Jonas turned quickly around and, to his horror, caught sight of a search plane flying low overhead. He thought that the planes had stopped coming; surely his community had begun to accept the fact that he was dead.

Jonas ducked low, hoping that the pilot of the plane would mistake him for a snowbank, but it was no use. There was nowhere to hide, and he was a dark dot of color in a field of white.

The pilot, catching sight of him and Gabe, veered the plane down lower and lower until it was skimming along right above the ground. Seconds before it reached Jonas it glided smoothly to a halt.

Jonas immediately stepped back from the plane in fear. He didn't want to return to his community…or did he?

A hatch in the top of the plane popped open and a woman stepped out. Her vivid red hair reminded Jonas forcibly of Fiona's, but he pushed the image of his friend out of his mind. There was no going back to what once was.

The woman, evidently the plane's pilot, stepped over to Jonas carefully and stopped about a foot or so away from him, scrutinizing him. He resisted the temptation to back away from her.

"Are you Jonas?" she asked him in the measured and patient voice his mother so often used to use with him.

"Yes," Jonas replied defiantly. Gabe stirred in his arms.

The woman stood staring at him a moment longer and then said, "Get in the plane."

Jonas hesitated. Following the woman's order meant returning to his community, facing the people he abandoned. It meant surrender.

Jonas picked up his feet and slowly walked toward the plane.

The woman followed him, climbing into the cockpit. Jonas strapped himself and Gabe into seats in the back of the plane and waited for takeoff, his heart sinking lower and lower as each second ticked by.

Takeoff did not come. Jonas glanced up to see the woman staring back at him, her gray eyes glinting in the feeble evening light.

"I know who you are, Jonas. I used to see you around."

Jonas stared at the woman, eyebrows raised.

"You're the new Receiver. Or you were, anyway," the woman said. "The community's in disorder. Nothing like this has ever happened, not since—"

"—Rosemary. Yeah, I know the story," Jonas finished wearily. "I'm the second failure. I've messed up. They won't forgive me."

"And that's why I'm giving you an ultimatum. You've got the choice to stay here as you are, or fly with me back to our community. You're a smart kid, Jonas. There's a reason why you left us in the first place, probably an important one."

Jonas stared, dumbstruck, at the woman. "You mean you'd just let me go free, if I didn't want to go back?"

The woman blinked and nodded. "It's your decision, Jonas."

My decision? Jonas didn't know what to think.

And then, at that very moment, thought after thought came flooding back to him. He remembered the reasons he had left, why he wanted to reach Elsewhere so badly. Besides food and water and shelter, what would life in his community bring him?

Absolutely nothing, Jonas concluded firmly. If he returned with the woman, The Giver would be disappointed. At no cost did Jonas want to let down his one and only friend.

"Let me stay," he said. He began to unbuckle Gabe from the plane seat, keeping his head down.

The woman paused, and then said, "Best of luck, Jonas."

"Thanks," Jonas muttered, unstrapping himself and stumbling out the door of the plane. As much as he wanted a bite to eat, he couldn't bear to return to his community.

"Oh, I almost forgot." The woman rolled down one of the cockpit windows and tossed him a tightly folded square of paper. Jonas caught it one-handed and looked questioningly up at the woman.

"Open it," she said. "It's yours now. I've got no use for it."

Immediately, the cockpit window rolled up. Just as Jonas was about to shout after the woman again, maybe ask what her name was, the plane zipped forward. It sliced through the cold evening air, making no noise as it went. Gabe clapped and giggled as he watched it go. Jonas, slightly breathless, ripped open the paper. It took him a moment to realize what he was holding, but when he did, he let out a gasp.

The woman had given him a map.