Eliot's Epilogue

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The average car ride from my home in Mount Airy to Asheville, before the end of the world, used to be a little over three hours, if there was no road construction on 77 South. There used to be a lot of construction on 77, but oddly on the next road of the journey, 40 West, delays never seemed to cause traffic to come to a halt. That must have been a no-no when the world depended on east-west commerce. But these days, interstate 40 might as well be the parking lot at the end of a football game.

Our trip to Biltmore House in Asheville to see how the other half used to live was an annual summer trip once my mom left my dad. Before I quit visiting my dad, the trip always culminated in an exchange of the prisoner and summer visits with him. Those trips were great, me and mom were big fans of an old show, Downton Abbey, that aired on the local public channel, and once, they displayed the dresses and costumes for the show. I must have taken a million pictures and printed them out. Wonder where they are now? 

On our trip to Biltmore, the biggest home in America, me and my mom always stopped in Hickory at the Cracker Barrel for breakfast. Sadly, today I am looking at a fond memory that someone burned to the ground. Looks like it was burned early on so they'll be no pancakes for anybody. As if I could eat them anyway, even the thought is making me want to start puking again.

It is the fourth week of our trip to safety and a normally three hour trip looks like it will never end. We have faced hardships we anticipated: marauders, immovable objects blocking the road, hot weather, water shortages, and multiple detours. Yesterday, there was a group of crazed people almost running in the opposite direction and warning us not to go forward. The obstacles in our path have almost, but not yet deterred us.

Fortunately, after we were almost robbed before we left Statesville, Leia and the others decided to accompany us a ways, just to make sure her second chance got where they were going. I don't know if we would have made it this far without them, especially after most of the group from Pilot said we were going too slow and abandoned us. Even Marla, younger than me, is a seasoned soldier now, and their presence, and guns, have kept our caravan safe from attacks. And of course, Steven is ecstatic that Tommy is still here. They walk around holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes and kissing for no reason at all. It is a disgusting display of inappropriate behavior. I am so happy for him.

The biggest obstacle we encountered was right before we reached Hickory. We have met several groups on the road, some going our way and some the opposite direction. One of the groups didn't stay long and looked punier than the others. Turns out, they were caring sickness. The vomiting/diarrhea bug hit us all pretty hard. Only Torin and a few others didn't get sick and, thank goodness, because they had to look after the rest of us.

The virus only lasted a few days, but for some reason, I can't seem to shake it. I feel as weak as water. This morning I am a little better, I've learned to eat a cracker, something plain before I raise my head off the pillow. This seems to help. Today, I feel like I might live. I sip on a found Pepsi that I've guarded for going on three days now.

Torin has been worried about me. I look at him and blush. Turns out a sleeping bag, set apart from the others, is a great hideaway for lovers. Torin says we are out of condoms. Damn, I guess we will have to do other things in the dark in our secret place only we know. I blush again and feel all hot and like I might throw up again. Torin goes to get a bottle of antacid he found in his scouring of the nearest pharmacy. Before he leaves, he shakes his head to let me know there were no condoms. Hmmm, no condoms. Wonder how long they last anyway? Would they be expired by now? In this heat? I am curious now. I want to look this up real quick, but there's no phone service and the internet is long gone.

Can a condom go bad, I wonder, and then, oh God. The realization hits me. Before I can even think, oh shit, shit, and how will I ever tell Torin, Cindy Lou comes by banging a pot to get everyone up.

"Eggs, get up and eat 'em before they're all gone. We gotta 'em. Fried, boileded, scrambled, or my favorite, juicy eggs." She bangs the pot almost right in my ear. The thought of a juicy egg brings on another wave of nausea. I don't feel so good.

"Hey you better?" Cindy asks me. Before I answer, she says, "You having a baby now, you gotta drink a lot of water and rest. And vitamins, you need the baby vitamins now, Eliot."

I don't say anything back. Torin is on the other side of us, there is a bus between us. Did Torin hear her? Cindy continues. "I know these things. I had a baby once. It was an accident. They gave it away to a real family. Don't worry. I'll help you. And, you can keep your baby. I won't let socialized services take it away."

"Nor will I," says Torin as he comes around the bus to join us. He takes my hand, kisses it, touches my stomach. "You are safe with me, my lady."

"Torin," I say. Tears come to my eyes.

"Thank you, my lady."

Oh Lord, not the thank you's again.

Torin lifts my chin and looks directly in my eyes. "You have made me the happiest man on Earth."

Cindy bangs on the pot, "Oh good grief. Quit the smooching and come eat some juicy, squirty eggs."

I turn away to throw up. My prince holds my hair. 



After the sickness detour, we are finally on the road to Asheville and safety when we are flagged down by a honking red jeep. A red jeep I thought I would never see again. And, praise the Lord,I recognize the driver, Agent Lancaster, and miracle of miracles, he has some passengers in the back. I see a man and woman in the back. Did he bring Carli and Jack back? Where are the Santa Clauses?

I run to the jeep and see that it is not Carli or Jack, as Gus steps out. He has someone injured with him, so he helps her out of the back. She holds her hand to her chest and grimaces. I can see a red, blistered place on her hand that goes up her arm and is covered in what looks like Vaseline. The injury looks like a burn, an angry burn screaming for attention.

I stand in shock, but not my father, he knows what to do in any situation and this situation throws caution to the wind. He runs to my mother and picks her up and twirls her round and round. My mother is laughing like I haven't heard her laugh in a long time. She is crying too. She reaches out her good hand to me and calls my name and smiles. I run to my mama.

My mother is here. She found me. She is ok. I'm ok. We are all going to be ok.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

My mama is home.

Everything will be all right now. 

Eliot Strange and the Prince of the PeopleWo Geschichten leben. Entdecke jetzt