This Was Home [h.s.]

| 1. STRANGER |

Water filled? Check. Enough food for the day? Check. Gun with ammunition? Check. Car tank filled? Check.

I took one last look in the dashboard mirror. I saw my sister in the window waving at me. She had a smile on her face, but it was mixed with an uneasy expression.

Behind her was mom laying in bed. I didn't want her to exert any extra energy by getting up, so this was the compromise—looking through the window. She shyly waved at me, mustering a slight smile on her face.

I turned to face Alayna this time and gave her one more wave. "I'll see you later," I signed to her as I mouthed the words in her direction. That uneasy look on her face seemed to dissipate just a little bit at least.

We always made sure not to say goodbyes and instead say "see you laters." Call it cheesy, sure, but sometimes cheesy was all that kept you sane. It was what our mom did every time she left. She always reminded us she would be back, even pinky swore a few times when we were especially nervous. It was a promise she never broke, so I would have felt like shit if I was the first one to have broken it.

I turned back around, eyes planted towards the dirt road ahead of me. After one more final deep breath in, I twisted the key to the ignition. The car sputtered as if to tell me, "finally someone remembers I exist."

The dirt road took about an hour to get off onto the main road. I tried to stop glancing at the clock ticking, but it was difficult knowing time was of greatest importance. I had to be quick and aware of my surroundings. Especially considering how fucked up all the roads were.

There were no city officials making note of the amount of pot holes that needed to be fixed or tow trucks ready to get people's unused cars out of the middle of the road. It was a ghastly sight, really. It had been so long since I had been out here, and it already looked so much more worn than what I remembered.

1:04 PM

I was on the main road now. Just two more hours until I reached the drop-off. Everything was becoming easier, too. Mom had driven us this way a handful of times; it was the only way to anything that we needed. That was also before mom labeled taking us as too risky.

Sixty more minutes.

I was watching the gas tank lower and lower. I knew I couldn't linger my eyes too long in fear my anxiety would overtake any rationality I had left inside me. I had to keep my eyes glued ahead anyway—trying my best not to think too hard about the amount of dead bodies in different stages of decomposition I had already passed.

Some were still even in their car.

Thirty.

The closer I got the slower time began to feel. I had to stretch out my fingers periodically because of how stiff they got from white-knuckling the steering wheel for so long. I could even feel it in my neck—the stress. I was also afraid, but not really even for myself. For mom who was sick back home. She needed medicine and finding that was never a guarantee.