Day Six Hundred Sixty Four #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Dried up scrub characterizes the terrain we pass through. So all the more we are excited by the prospect of greenery in the distant valley. We should reach it tomorrow.

No doubt it will be refreshingly green, but I wonder for how long.

How long until it’s lushness gives way to the grayness that surrounds us here?

That question paled to nothing when the Captain reminded us that it’s been days since we last glimpsed the army to our south.

We know, per Tomas and later the ex-soldiers, that the warplanes did no damage to its viability.

Are they still behind us? Or have they gained or surpassed us?

I have a premonition that they must come through here.

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Day Three Hundred Thirty Seven #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

On deck the air radiated hot and oppressive, despite the fact of our swift forward motion. At the bow it was more akin to a blast furnace.

Elijah stayed in the sanctuary cabin over night and was missing from the vigil we were keeping on the bridge in the early dawn hours.  So I assumed he was still there.

Out of the grayness a wide expanse of ocean came into focus beyond the closing pincers of the enveloping morass.

The Captain despaired. In his judgment the welcome sight was still too far away.

But then it were as if we crossed a line into a polar region and a fierce wind blew from behind us forward, forcing the pincers apart.