Day Nine Hundred Sixteen #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We were on lockdown still when he left to take up the thread on our queries. He left me with a whole set of drone components to tinker with. It kept my hands busy and my mind occupied.

Elijah even lent a hand, off and on. It reminded me of the days when I knew Elijah as Lyle, and he called me ‘Enough.’ Back when we built a pair of drones. And left the city behind for the mountain.

When I voiced my recollection, Elijah said it elicited a different memory for him. It made him miss his pigeons, Rufus and Clarissa.

And that touchstone released a new flood of memories about people we hope to see again before long.

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Day Eight Hundred Fifty Three #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

I twisted my ankle on our transit last night. Elijah caught me before I hit the ground. Otherwise the injury would have been more serious.

As I sat there he rubbed his hands together creating heat from the friction. Then seized the point of the swelling. I could sense warmth radiating from there throughout my body.

In moments I was able to stand. He loaned me his staff as a precaution against further missteps.

We called an end to our night walk early for we came upon a well at a crossroads.

We drank our fill and found a place nearby to rest and pass the day.

Given the crossroads we had another decision to make, hopefully not under duress.

Day Three Hundred Sixty Five #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

The transfer at sea was an arduous process of delicate maneuvering and careful timing. It required all hands into the wee hours of the morning. I assisted what little I could.  

The warship lent no hands for the simple reason that there was not a single living soul aboard. It was all automated. Robotic.

The guard petitioned to join the warship, but was refused. He watched with longing as it turned south and we again took up our easterly course.

The Captain estimated that we have lost a day and a half, and should have the coast of our next destination in view come late tomorrow.

Both Elijah and I believe we shall cross paths with that robotic warship again.

Day Three Hundred Fifty Five #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We had cast off the night before and were awaiting a pilot in the roadstead in the growing light of morning, when a tug hailed us and drew alongside.

It did not deliver our pilot, but rather a group of three young men sent for by Tomas. They have volunteered to replace some of the hands that had gone with the First Mate. The Captain gave his approval, no doubt helped along by the fact that none of them bear the mark. And one of them, a fisherman in these waters, offered to pilot our ship out.

When we were underway, Elijah took me aside to share some news, the Hamashiachites per his instruction are all safe in the hills.