We leave at dusk

"Aha!  Here we go..." says Mildred as she crawls out of the closet and hands me a pair of sneakers.  "These should fit just fine."

I've managed to replenish my wardrobe with t-shirts and pants (and now shoes) borrowed from the little boy who used to live here.  I try not to think about him being gone.  I'm sure he would be happy to know that someone is getting use of his stuff.

"We leave at dusk," says Annie as she hustles past us throwing more supplies into various bags by the door.  Mildred has finished fixing up the family car that had some damage to it when the garage caved in.  And now, we are able to depart. 

"Try them on!" insists Mildred as I bend over to try and slip one of my feet into the sneaker.

"They good?" asks Annie as she hustles out of the room to collect more food from the kitchen.

"Um, hmm." I tell them as I strut up and down the hallway to make sure that they'll be good.  As I do so, Mildred grabs another pair from the closet and throws them in the pile near the door. "Just in case," she says as she turns toward the kitchen to help her sister ransack whatever non-perishables are there.

My hunger kicked in full-swing this morning, and I have a newfound appreciation for all those children who are starving in Africa.

Were starving?

"Do you think the people in Africa are ok?" I say as I walk into the kitchen and grab a can of corn to nosh on.

"We hope so," says Annie as she scolds me with a look for digging into our rations.  "Oh, leave her, she's recouperating" whispers Mildred to her sister as I hand the can over to them and offer some corn.

I'm like that two year old who is caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Both of them smile and say 'no thanks' before taking the last of the cans towards the door.  Something tells me that radiation can seep into foods that are in cans, but since we don't have much choice -- we have opted to hope for the best and move forward.

We're going north.  The sisters were talking with some other people who left ahead of us, and they believe the roads are better to the north.  Also, it will be less hot -- and dangerous.  But mostly we're heading north for a refuge from the temperature.

"We must warn you," says Annie as she motions for me to sit down while I continue to shovel the rest of the corn into my mouth.  "It's not like how you remembered it.  There are gaping holes, and well -- it's not how you remember it."

I nod.  I have yet to see outside.  It's more dangerous during daylight hours for some reason.  I suppose the darkness will add a level of kindness as it shields us from the devestation in the city.

"How far north will we have to go?" I ask -- not that it matters, but more out of curiosity.

"As far as the roads will allow us -- god willing," says Annie.

"It'll be fine!" says Mildred who gives her sister a cross look for worrying me.

"God willing," I say with a smile -- because after we step out of this house, we are at the complete mercy of God, the roads, and whatever remnants of society are left.  And people do scary things when their lives are in danger.  Right now, I'm more concerned about who we run into, than the imminent physical danger of the elements.  People are very unpredictable.