As they walked back to the truck, their way bright and easy from the lights the crazies had returned to them, Elliot wondered if that was it. Had the crazies chased them all this way just to tell them that one word? And what the hell did it mean?

The crazies had simply walked off, after that one word and the gift of the lights. They’d gone out through the office door and into the night, and he and Evajean had just stood there, not talking, too stunned to discuss anything. A message he didn’t understand, one the crazies had tracked them all the way from Nahom to give. Moroni. He’d never heard it before, had no idea what it could be, but it was another piece in the puzzle of events the plague had brought. Asking Evajean about it would wait until they were back on the road, heading west to Colorado. He needed that: a goal achievable, one that made immediate sense.

Evajean had found the dog, ducking back into the warehouse with the help of a flashlight, and emerging a few minutes later, Hope struggling under one arm. Elliot smiled at this, at the puppy’s desire to dart away yet again, unconcerned with their quest.

And then they were back at the truck and inside, Elliot behind the wheel and Evajean settling Hope on her lap. Elliot knew he should get some sleep–he’d had maybe six hours in the last three days–but that could be put off until there was more road between them and the crazies, wherever they’d wandered off to. He could still manage a few hours of driving, at least. Evajean was a different matter, however. As he backed the truck up and turned it onto the road out of the industrial park and on to the freeway, he saw that she’d fallen asleep, her head resting against the strap of her seatbelt.

He drove west along I-70 and his mind went back to sorting through what it knew of the mystery they’d found themselves in. We need to take the bodies away as a safety measure, the government mailings and television announcements had said. Men had come by to pick them up at first, then the call had gone out to use the curb and the trucks had come. During that time news reports spoke of the disease being limited to the North American continent, hitting rural areas and then spreading into the cities. But it was only a plague and, while the victims spoke in tongues before they died, there was no indication of the crazies he and Evajean had witnessed.

Elliot found that fact difficult to explain. If those people were roaming–especially if they were attacking like they’d done in Nahom–you’d think that would make the evening news at the very least. Why weren’t there any reports? Perhaps the crazies had only arrived at the end, after the television broadcasts went dead, the Internet crashed, and the newspapers stopped arriving. Could they be that recent a development?

Yet even if he could move past that, finding answers to set those questions aside, it remained unknown what he and Evajean had to do with any of it.

Elliot rolled down the window a couple inches, letting the chill of a night breeze into the cab. The crazies had come after them. Had the attack on Nahom, and his preceding capture in the cave, been their only contact, he could write it off as horrific coincidence. But the hotel and then the brief message at the warehouse… Those spoke to a deeper connection, one made only more terrible by Evajean’s performance outside the church, and the metal box they’d found just before.

As his mind spun over these questions in the three hours before he pulled of the road to sleep, Elliot had a brief moment of false epiphany, an idea that rang maddeningly true, but which he quickly recognized as nonsense. Couldn’t this all be explained, all the mysterious and seemingly supernatural occurrences, by his own insanity? The crazies might not be crazy after all, but the sane counterparts to Elliot’s psychotic break. But no–no that couldn’t be, because, in the same way you know when you’re dreaming and when you’re awake, Elliot knew this was all happening and his experiences of it accurate. He wasn’t mad, though a part of him wished he were.

“Evajean,” he said, nudging her arm, “I need to quit. I have to sleep.”

She kicked at the touch, but then turned to stare at him, still far from awake, and sighed. “Where are we?”

“I’m going to pull over,” he said, not answering her question. With the street lights out and the truck’s own headlights dim, he hadn’t been able to make out many road signs. He didn’t know where they were. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Okay,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

She did, and, after a few moments, so did he.

There were no dreams, not that he remembered, and Elliot awoke to rain. The sun had come up not long before and now he looked out on a grey stretch of freeway, three empty lanes in both directions. He turned to Evajean, seeing flashes of her with the box raised over her head in Nahom, and said, “Evajean, wake up. It’s morning.”

She shifted, rolling to the side and pushing at the seatbelt. Hope yawned in her lap.

“What time is it?” she asked, blinking.

“I don’t know.”

“We stopped.”

“I couldn’t go anymore.” He’d rolled the window back up, against the chill, before nodding off, and the windows had a thin layer of fog. He wiped at them now.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry I can’t help.”

“With the driving?”

She nodded.

“I’ll manage,” he said. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“No,” she said. “But I should. I guess I just– I feel sick.”

“Yeah. Me too. I’ll see what I can find.” He climbed out and into the rain. It wasn’t heavy and felt good as he walked around to the back of the truck and dug through the bed until he’d come up a bagged loaf of bread and several apples. For Hope, he took a handful of jerky.

The three ate and looked out across the pavement and thought about what was next.

It’s feedback time, folks. I’m around the half way point on the novel and am getting the tail end mapped out in detail. Part of that is making sure I answer all the questions the story has left open so far. Of course, I have all the big ones in my outline, but I don’t want to miss any little mysteries that have all of you wondering. So here’s what I’d like from everyone who’s been a faithful reader up to this point: what loose ends do you want me to absolutely tie off? There’s a lot of them and, while I’ve documented most, there are likely several I’ve forgotten about in the long writing process. I try to keep good notes, but it’s not a perfect process. Go ahead and post them in the comments section of this entry. Big things, little things. Were did the crazies come from? Why does the dog have such a terribly cliched name? Anything. Thank you so much, and I hope to keep things moving at a good clip right through the end.