Day One Thousand One Hundred Thirty Five #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

My old dream disturbed my slumber over night. The one in which blood dripped incessantly. But this time there were bodies afloat on the flood. There were stacks of them across the plain that disentangled from one another as the tide rose.

Once underway I broached the subject with Elijah. He was silent for the longest time after I finished speaking.

Reuben, who had been listening from the beginning, asked me if our angel were responsible. He meant for the carnage depicted, of course. Elijah broke in and confirmed this guess, but also went on to explain that he most likely was responsible for the dream itself.

At that instant we rounded a bend and saw Stan’s sacrificial high place.

Day Six Hundred Twenty One #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We saw a column of dust rising at the far end of the plain across the river from us. The army had to be marching somewhere below that smudge splitting the blue of the sky.

We discovered the point at which they must have crossed yesterday, where their trail disappeared at the water’s edge. I surmised they must have had boats or pontoon bridges.

It was much too deep for us there.

I knew from my time reconnoitering that a better place lay around the bend.

We found a derelict boat upon which the Captain and Tomas made repairs and we crossed without getting our feet wet.

Elijah wants to overtake the army, but none of us will ask why.