October 23
I've been spending less and less time at home and Teri has been spending more and more time at the window with her coffee. She doesn't speak much anymore. Just waits for Earl to return.
It's been a few days since the dragons have appeared at all. Teri hasn't spoken a word since telling me: "Earl is a kind name."
I keep my distance. The past 48-hours, I've taken to venturing out on my own. I know it's a risky proposition but I saw smoke – not dragon-fire smoke – rising up from across the ashes of the city. I think it's a human signal.
I'm too curious and too concerned to stay hidden, wondering if I can help, so I devised a plan:
Each day I venture out a little further. I make strategic maps as I go. I move from one burned-out building to the next. Sometimes a house with the roof blown off or its walls caved in, sometimes into a store's cellar, sometimes the simple cover of an old garage.
I never make my time out in the open last more than 30-seconds. There's no point in chancing it.
Today, I'm in a garage. There is nothing in here but some rusty tools hanging off the wall and an old Studebaker that, up until the dragons arrived, was in mint condition. Worth a small fortune.
I sat behind the wheel of the car pretending to drive it. Somewhere down the coast. Perhaps all the way to Rehoboth or Dewey Beach, in Delaware. In my mind, there is no one else on the interstates. Just me and the Studebaker and sunshine.
I wake from this moment to reality: a dragon screams. Somewhere in a distant sky.
I cannot see it, but listen. I get out of the Studebaker and leave it behind. There is a mercantile store down an alley and across a street. If I spring, I bet I can make it in 30-seconds...
October 24
Today is Teri's birthday. I wonder what she's doing.
I woke up in the cellar of the mercantile store – now a mile or so from home – and immediately scribbled down details into my map. I pause in my drawings to think about home. How, when you're moving on foot, seeking shelter from dragons every 30-seconds or so, a mile away from home can feel like a gazillion miles.
Through the window, the smoke-signal continues to rise. Why hasn't it burned itself out yet? It is being fed by something – it has to be humans, right?
I peek out from the mercantile store to see if there are any dragons moving about. So far, so good.
On my way to my next refuge, an old pizza shop, I found a flower. Come on now... it wasn't real, you see. It was one of those synthetic plastic table pieces that the older women I remember would use for holiday ornaments. I think it was supposed to be a lilac.
The flower was laying in a plastic flowerpot in the middle of a street. I saw it, knew I wanted it, and grabbed it up while running past. It was the only thing I could do to justify not being home for Teri's birthday.
I think... no, I knew... she'd love it.
October 25
This pizza shop still smells like pizza even though the ovens haven't worked in months, maybe years.
I've lost track of time and never thought to keep track. I only know that it is autumn and should be cooling off but the sky seems to be closing in on us with some kind of solar heat. And – the dragons – they keep you awfully preoccupied from paying to time.
I found an old piece of crust. It was about the size of my hand. I was hungry and tried biting it and nearly busted my teeth out.
Not even rats – if they too had not been extinct by now – they likely wouldn't touch this crust. What was I thinking?
October 27
My next stop was about a block from where the smoke was rising. It looked like the remains of a church and I think I saw a steeple but who knows in this mess of rubble. I just know I'm deeper into the heart of town.
There has been so much destruction and there is literally nothing left standing.
I'm hiding now beneath a large bell. Seriously. It's weird under here. This bell used to wake me up on Sunday mornings when it was hanging above the church, out of sight, fixed into the steeple.
I remember that clearly, and for years it occupied a part of my subconscious. Whenever I heard it ring, I knew it was around noon on Sunday, I guess.
Now the bell is tipped over on its side and collects stagnant water and I'm sitting in here trying to find a dry place to continue my map.
From my vantage point, I can see the strange smoke-signal continuing to rise. It is literally a stone's throw away. Okay, maybe more than that. For a moment, my thoughts soften.
I wonder about Teri. I wonder what she's doing right now and what she looks like. I wonder if she's sleeping or still sitting there at the window, still hoping for the unnatural kindness of dragons, contemplating a chance to meet a nice one someday.
Then it hits me like some kind of instant clarity: I've decided that tomorrow I will make it to the smoke-signal, no matter what. I will do this for me, for Teri, and for the remaining hope I have for humanity. If someone needs saved out there... I'm going to do it. This conviction has kept me going, I think.
But - for now, I will try and sleep in this bell and hopefully my energy will be up for a sprint at dawn. Even if it takes longer than 30-seconds to get there, I'm going to make it to that smoke-signal by the next time I stop running...
