La Via~November 3

A continuation of The Road by Cormac McCarthy:

They keep going south along the coast.  Nobody else.  Another derelict.  This one wasnt stuck in the beach.  They checked it out and set up camp.  The papers in Spanish and Mandarin.  Man searched it.  Found only five cans of fruit.  He held the wheel, his hands the perfect size.

Can you drive it?
Yup.
Will we take it anywhere?
I dont know.
Okay.

That night everyone camped just off the beach in the dead forest.  There were six of them.  The three kids talked.  Before falling asleep, the boy talked to his father.  Praying.  Kneeling to the starlight.  He spoke.  Nothing.  Again Hello?  Tried to imagine what his father would say.

Hello?
Son.
Papa.
Silence.
Where are you?
I dont know, but your mother is beautiful.
Did you find good guys?
Yes. In a whole community of them.  And you?
I dont know.  I think so.  Theres two other kids.
Good.
When can I be with you?
The later the better for you; the sooner the better for me.
When?
Never.
Okay night.
Night.

Everyone swam out to the derelict.  Man built a fire on the deck.  Clothes were hung and dried.  The man went to the wheel and they began moving.  Water hitting the sides.  Two days and nights eating scantily.  Then land.  They disembarked.  Rocky beach.  The trash floating around in another alphabet.  The noise.  Fifty freaks sprinting towards them.  Time to go.  Back to the ship.  Barely in time.  The freaks couldnt board.  The man brought the ship into the bay.  More freaks.  All bloody.  Maybe 175 now.  Gaping mouths.  300.  Moaning.  Cant count.

What are they?
The boy's father:  you dont want to know.
I do.
Part of the reason for this horrific world.
How?
Remember what states are from what ive told you?
Yes.
Well.  States north of here were messing with what got you sick but worse.  A weapon.  To attack other states.  Something happened.
The freaks?
Yes the freaks.
Will I get sick like that?
No.
Why?
Youve made it long enough that you cant be affected.
Okay.
Okay.
Can I talk to mom?
Not now.

A gunshot.  Back to reality.  A biomass of humans snarling on the beach.  The man shot one.  What are they?  Where are we?  An island.  Where?  Man turned the ship around and away from the land.  Food is low.

Where are we going?
Back to the mainland away from here.
Will there be food?
Yes.
Good.
What are those things?
Homo sapiens.
Really?
Yes. But sick. Very sick.
How?
There was a mistake.

The man turned away, his left eye sparkling green, the right blue as nothing from this world.  He kept sailing, his short stature looking at home at the wheel.

What mistake?
We screwed up.
You did this?
No.
Well then who?
Our superiors.  We had the best weapon.  We needed our land back.  A side effect.

Land in sight.  The mainland?  He dropped the anchor and they swam to shore through the freezing sludge.  We cant go back.  No hope.  Best go south again.  No roads.  Cross-country.  They headed south.  It began.  The sky got even darker.  Still darker.  Dark.  Grey.  Brown. Black.  Nothing.  Get down everyone.  Huddled under a huge tree.  Specks of liquid on the face and hands.  Heavier.  Harder.  More.  Now a solid falling.  Frozen golf balls smashing into the ground.  Nothing to do but wait out the tempest.  The boy fell asleep, head on the man.  Morning.  The man rose to assess damage.  A couple cans were smashed and the woman's backpack had a whole in it.  Where is the boy?  Not here.  Panic.  They ran up and down the beach.  No tracks.  Something floated in with the tide.  The boy has surely lost his innocence.  What innocence?  He never had any.

Papa why did you leave me?
I couldnt stay.  I would have died to, but it ended taking me away anyways.
I want to be with you.
No.
But I want to.
You cant.  You need to stay and survive.  Who else will carry the fire?
This group.
No its you.  You need to.
Can I give this man the fire?
No the fire is in you,
Okay.

The boy went to sleep.  A dream.  Not a nightmare.  His father.  A bright light.  The sky light.  White.  Something about a plane?  He was going somewhere?  His father in the seat next to him asleep.  A person in the aisle offering a him a liquor.  No.  Where is he?  intertwined grey lines below.  Moving dots, like ants.
He awoke.  What a nightmare.  He jumped out of bed and sprinted down the hallway to his parent's room. 

Mom.
What? Its three AM.  What do you need?
Where is he?
Who?
My uncle.
Which one?
Yorma.
I dont know son I think at his lab taking a night shift, working on some reverse vaccine or bacteria.  Do you think its bad for his heterochromia to be up this late?