Letters from
Mencken

“I’ve never been….”

“Incredib...”

“We made it.”

This is some of what I heard spoken by our survivors as we passed the white lettering decorating the gray stone pillar, along with other yips of excitement I couldn’t comprehend.

How does an invisible border mean anything? I don’t know, but it did. The terrain is less hilly here, sure… open, unremarkable, but there are more rising peaks far ahead of us. Over the bridge beyond the pillar, which was also like any other still stable bridge, we continued uninterrupted. It was good that many of them understood what the marker meant. Another sign that their consciousness was returning.

Oslo found what he called hukelberry bushes and the small purple berries dotting them. He said they grew in Idaho. When I asked if they grow anywhere else, he said yes. Regardless, they were delicious, bitter until boiled twice with old baking soda. Then sweet.

We are foraging for more in case they don’t grow everywhere.

When we are near communities, we clear the houses and businesses and use them for shelter. When we are not, we find vehicles and do the same. Eugen Raford guesses it is nearing the end of summer. The others agree. It’s the reason we left the Erthman home with haste. We had to get moving. Away from those that look for us and away from the impending weather change.

A lot of talk of where to go.
Many of us just want to go home, where they were before Site K.
I know their homes are scattered.
Yet, they are all alike.
They are devoid of life, like my home.
And full of death like everywhere outside of it.

I also know we need to stick together and look for others along the way. Yet, I do want to go someplace like no other place. I want to go to where Kevin Nehmark came from – Fort Wood or The Library of Congress in another Washington on the other side of the map. I want to know him. I want to know what he wants and why.

I want to find answers.
What was the point of all this?

We are on the run.

At Oslo’s urging, we returned to the Erthman home. We are keeping half the survivors here and half at Mill’s General Store.

Oslo is happy to be ‘home,’ and is content to stay here. He spends most of his time foraging and cooking to feed all of us. He has purpose. I know we have to keep moving. We are too close to Korslund to be safe and there are too many of us to stay hidden.

I also know that fleeing the whistleblower is not the only answer. There are more out there that need our help. We must find them before anyone else does. Most of us are recovered and we can all be of service to others.