"Is it stupid that I was hoping she would make it?" I ask Donna as they carry the body past me towards the fire out back. Donna hands her side of the gurney to someone beside her before responding, "No."
We stand there in silence as the body is placed on top of the fire. At first it seems as if she will lie there forever, draped in white linen -- impervious to the flame; but a moment later the smoke begins to billow from beneath her right side, and eventually the fire consumes her as with all the others.
We stand there in silence, each of us lost in a whirlwind of thought and remorse.
Donna speaks first a few moments later, "I don't think we're going to see anyone else."
The idea that this place really is a petri dish for life scares me; and I try to shake off the thought because I would rather believe that the network is momentarily fragmented -- and that we will all reconnect in time.
I look around at my temporary neighbors. Most of them travelled here from East and North. I am one of the few to survive from the South. None of us have any news from the West, but I am determined to travel there and find out for myself.
I take a seat on the ground, and a moment later Donna does the same. We sit side by side in silence as we watch the funeral of another fallen comrade.
"What do you think she did for a living?" Donna asks a moment later. I try to give it an honest answer, one that is worthy of dignity and respect. "I bet she was a wonderful teacher -- one that the students would go home and gush to their parents about." I say, because good teachers always make the world a better place.
"I bet she was one of those cool ones," chimes Donna with a smile,"the kind who let you draw on the chalkboard during free time."
I nod. I know exactly what she's talking about. There are teachers, albeit few, who have the gift of mesmerizing children; a Pied Piper of sorts. I close my eyes for a moment and imagine this woman smiling in her rocking chair at the front of the classroom while her students race to sit around her for a story or an interactive lesson.
I bet she was the type of teacher who made everything alright.
"She wouldn't have done well in a world with no children," I say looking around the town. Donna turns to me and nods, and somehow that gives me comfort in knowing that this teacher is in a much better place. A happier place where children are eternal, and story time can happen every hour on the hour.
Moments bleed into longer moments as the fire crackles and burns. For whatever reason, I sit there for the remainder of the cremation; hypnotized.
Eventually, Donna stands and re-enters the hospital.
Alone and for a brief second I mourn the woman that I never knew, but then regain my composure when I see the others walking towards the Tavern for dinner.
I try not to think about this latest funeral too much as I continue about my evening. It's counterproductive, and I need to concentrate on regaining my strength.
And so, like everyone else I'm sure, I hover ever so awkwardly above that dark place in an effort to survive.
But the darkness is real -- lurking stealthily below me; reaching for my dangling feet as I hang helplessly from a branch in a Hungry Abyss that is slowly and ruthlessly trying to swallow me whole.
