Notes from the Future: Veronica's New Journal, Day Two

Day 2

7-ish am

I fell asleep. Had weird dreams. Tad was whispering to me, reading from a script, making me rehearse in my sleep. Totally something he would do. But outside the window there was someone watching the whole time. All I could really see was the outline of a head and shoulders, no features. Sometimes it seemed like there was a group watching me. They scared me. But there weren't any noises to wake me -- that I remember.

I'd like to leave today. I feel like I need to go, go South as soon as possible, I'm thinking that if I stick to the ridges of these hills, I'll be okay because I will be able to see any danger approaching. I know it will take me a while, but I'm going to ask them for anything they can spare, and be on my way

A nurse Rachel I hadn't met just came in with fresh towels and my bag from the Honda; I don't know why I didn't grab it yesterday. Or the night before. It's strange how I'll feel like I'm doing fine and then I'll realize I've forgotten the most basic idea, like changing my clothes. Gross. Shower time.

9:ish am

In the Garden. On a bench. Sunlight feels good. Wind has changed direction and smoke is blowing away from us. East? Northeast? I think so.

After I showered, the same nurse Rachel lead me up to a breakfast nook I'd never seen, where there was a breakfast of two scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries and five tiny pancakes. Tiny pancakes! So cute! Also a bowl of fresh blueberries in yogurt. Yum.

While I was eating, I listened to the news and watched Rachels and Ezekiels bustling around. Apparently, these fires are completely out of control now, spreading through Danville and San Ramon to Dublin, as well as up into Walnut Creek and that area. Infrastructure so damaged that trucks can't get to the fires, everything is still a mess. An evacuation notice went out to Danville and San Ramon, after lava had destroyed the majority of everything East of 680. So much bad news. All I want to do is go, but it feels so good to sit here in the sun and listen to birds.

Saw Mother H briefly, she was flustered and seemed worried. She said I should come see her this evening, for tea after dinner. I didn't think she would want to answer my questions right then, so I will wait until later to ask.  Right now, there are a lot of people moving out of the main house, I can see them running down the stairs from the decks. Sounds like there are cars coming! Police? Firetrucks? I can't see from here, going to go look.

4:ish pm

The Bearded Ezekiels returned with every SUV and truck they could find. In some cases, they hotwired the cars, but some cars were driven by their owners and all of the cars were full of injured people and their loved ones. One of the Bearded E's is really badly injured, there was a run-in with some Mean Greenies who still think the Prophet is in power. The Ezekiels fought them off and got back here as quickly as they could.

I was put to work immediately, and the little I know of nursing so far was very useful. I handed out blankets and water at first, then cleaned a lot of wounds and burns, then assisted with some stitching. There are stories of families dragged from their houses and eaten alive in their yards. This is why so many houses appeared abandoned: people were hiding or had already been dragged away. There is a name I hear associated with the Mean Greenies: Johnson Jones. Calls himself the First Disciple.  I will have to ask Mother H about him as well.

Wind has changed direction again and the smoke has turned the sky to a grey haze, the sun a faded orange disk. The uninjured Bearded E's have gone back down with uninjured men eager to help or find friends and neighbors. They're going to be out all night again. If Tad were here, he would go with them. Would that terrify me more?

I realized something while assisting with the new arrivals this morning: the Rachels and Bearded Ezekiels are wearing normal clothes, now. No more bonnets. There are still some plaid work shirts among the E's, but they're worn for function and not for culty uniform. People are wearing jeans and t-shirts, or, more commonly, scrubs. We're telling everyone that Mother H is the widow of a local rancher who volunteered her land as a rescue and staging area. People buy it, because nothing about the story clashes with what they see.

I've been writing while taking a short break for water and some snack and the bathroom. There is a little girl badly injured when her parents' car flipped near a barricade. She and her parents have been hiding behind a 7-11 for days, and I want to assist if I can with her surgery. They probably won't let me and I'll go where I'm needed. But break is over.

After 10 pm

Mother Henrietta wasn't able to meet with me tonight after dinner. Instead, I had tea with a group of Rachels and Ezekiels I've begun to recognize from our interactions today. After the tea had been poured, one of the Rachels, a nice strawberry blonde who is good with stitches, began to speak. This, as best I can remember, is what she said:

"Father Robert was lost for a long while."

Someone else, a Bearded Ezekiel, spoke, picking up smoothly at the end of the first Rachel's sentence:

"He wasn't just lost in the mountains," and another Rachel continued, "He was lost in Time."

Everyone spoke the next line at once: "And though he did not know it, he had begun a journey which would take him beyond the boundaries of everything he knew, loved and believed in, to a strange, bright, new world. And he would never,"

"Ever," from the youngest Rachel in the room. Then everybody: "Come back to the place and people he'd known."

Goosebumps. All over. Even writing it now. All this time I've pictured Father Robert, whether young or old, I'd been seeing Tad in the role. Is Tad lost in time as well? Then it hit me that I've worked so hard today since the Bearded E's got back with the first load of survivors that I've hardly thought of Tad once, if at all. I felt and still feel horrible for that; I tried to go out onto the top deck for some air, but there was too much smoke. I came down here to think; this place has HEPA filters on the air conditioning system, I'm told. I can still smell smoke.

Why I feel bad: Wherever Tad is, he's probably working tirelessly to get back to me. I picture him high on a trail in the mountains, walking constantly, day and night, to come and get me. I know he would, I know he will, it's what he's always said. Whether that trail through the mountains is in this place -- and time? -- I don't know, but when I lay still and breathe deeply, it sometimes feels as though he is momentarily next to me. Before I started writing tonight, I lay in bed for a minute, debating making an entry. After a while I realized it felt as though he was here next to me, and even though I knew he wasn't, it was very comforting. I fell asleep for a few minutes and, sleeping, I rolled over to snuggle him and was genuinely shocked (I actually jumped like someone had popped a balloon near me) to discover that he wasn't here.

I don't know if the Rachels and Bearded E's have Story Time every night, but I'm going to stay for the whole thing if they do it again tomorrow. I want to know more about Father Robert and that weird Abbey.

Man, I'm tired. Sleepytime. Closing this journal, turning out the light and going to sleep.

Goodnight, Maxwell and Edward -- wherever you are.

***

Writing in the dark. There's something or someone outside the window. I can hear them whispering. I'm moving slowly onto the floor and across the room, next to the window. It's so dark in here I can hardly see my hand in front of my face, I don't know if I can be seen from the outside. Here goes.