without a digestive of a fruit brandy called palinka. They claimed the fiery strong alcohol was actually a health drink that maintained proper digestion and ensured long life. His host later explained to him that for generations people had to eat things that were not totally free from germs or bacteria. He swore on the benefits of palinka, even explained that alcohol in general was a poison that the human body was able to filter out of its system. Germs and bacteria could not survive in alcohol and thus pouring this poison into the stomach killed them. He said it was as simple as that. Sam had scoffed and laughed at the time, thinking they needed better food hygiene. It seemed at least worth a try now.
With shaking fingers he pulled down the bottle of rum and spun the cap off. He took a generous swig of the rum and almost threw it back up, but held it down. He then took another slow steady drink and put the bottle on the counter.
Sam ignored the dark wraiths around him and stumbled out the door to the jubilant dogs who pranced around him barking as if they thought they would never see him again. He lay down on the blanket beside Scotch and the other dogs soon settled in around him.
If he were going to die, he would die with this friends and not a bunch of ghosts, he decided as he drifted off to feverish stillness.
*******
The night was eternal and he wasn't sure if he slept or only drifted in and out of various stages of delirium. By the next morning he was no longer shivering, although everything felt weak. Maybe he would live after all.
The dogs were undaunted and were ready to be off on another adventure. Sam carefully and slowly fed them, got himself some water, vitamins, aspirin, and lay in the lawn chair wrapped in a blanket. He remained this way most of the day, no longer nauseous or racked with diarrhea.
At some point he fully woke and the sun was in the opposite part of the sky. He looked around and saw Scotch wasn't on the blanket anymore. He tried whistling and it came out as a pathetic sound like a tire losing air. He tried again and it was stronger. Raven came around from close behind him, on guard of course. The other dogs barked from nearby and came running up to visit him. Sam basked in their affection and felt better still.
He pushed himself up and looked for something to eat. Sam was afraid of any canned goods now, although most were still likely good, but how was one to know? He needed to find fresh foods and hunt, trap, and fish more. He had been lazy and it had nearly cost him dearly. For now he would have to settle for boiling some rice he'd found in the cabinet. That should be easy on his stomach.
After eating he felt well enough to build up the fire for the night. He wouldn't sleep in that camper filled with the smell of his sickness and the spirits of his guilt. It was warm outdoors anyway and the sky was clear. He fished out the telescope and gazed at the sky until going to sleep and resting deeply.
The next morning he felt almost normal and was eager to be on his way. He knew exactly what his destination was now, maybe what it had been all along. Every trip up and down the coast he had lingered longer and lon ger near Williamsburg, always finding a reason not to stop. Maybe this was why he couldn't move away from the coast. This time he intended to stop this endless dance.
He wasn't going to try to go down I- 64, that was still a nightmarish scene. There were smaller roads and a few other routes. Sam couldn't go anywhere near Norfolk, although that would likely be the easiest route. He could just imagine the piles of death and decomposition there. Instead he would cross over the little two lane bridge near old Jamestown.
Sam traveled north and east for several days before coming to the bridge, half fearing and half hoping something had happened to it, maybe destroyed in a storm. It was still intact, but the two lanes were hopelessly clogged. He took the SUV as close as he could and then
With shaking fingers he pulled down the bottle of rum and spun the cap off. He took a generous swig of the rum and almost threw it back up, but held it down. He then took another slow steady drink and put the bottle on the counter.
Sam ignored the dark wraiths around him and stumbled out the door to the jubilant dogs who pranced around him barking as if they thought they would never see him again. He lay down on the blanket beside Scotch and the other dogs soon settled in around him.
If he were going to die, he would die with this friends and not a bunch of ghosts, he decided as he drifted off to feverish stillness.
*******
The night was eternal and he wasn't sure if he slept or only drifted in and out of various stages of delirium. By the next morning he was no longer shivering, although everything felt weak. Maybe he would live after all.
The dogs were undaunted and were ready to be off on another adventure. Sam carefully and slowly fed them, got himself some water, vitamins, aspirin, and lay in the lawn chair wrapped in a blanket. He remained this way most of the day, no longer nauseous or racked with diarrhea.
At some point he fully woke and the sun was in the opposite part of the sky. He looked around and saw Scotch wasn't on the blanket anymore. He tried whistling and it came out as a pathetic sound like a tire losing air. He tried again and it was stronger. Raven came around from close behind him, on guard of course. The other dogs barked from nearby and came running up to visit him. Sam basked in their affection and felt better still.
He pushed himself up and looked for something to eat. Sam was afraid of any canned goods now, although most were still likely good, but how was one to know? He needed to find fresh foods and hunt, trap, and fish more. He had been lazy and it had nearly cost him dearly. For now he would have to settle for boiling some rice he'd found in the cabinet. That should be easy on his stomach.
After eating he felt well enough to build up the fire for the night. He wouldn't sleep in that camper filled with the smell of his sickness and the spirits of his guilt. It was warm outdoors anyway and the sky was clear. He fished out the telescope and gazed at the sky until going to sleep and resting deeply.
The next morning he felt almost normal and was eager to be on his way. He knew exactly what his destination was now, maybe what it had been all along. Every trip up and down the coast he had lingered longer and lon ger near Williamsburg, always finding a reason not to stop. Maybe this was why he couldn't move away from the coast. This time he intended to stop this endless dance.
He wasn't going to try to go down I- 64, that was still a nightmarish scene. There were smaller roads and a few other routes. Sam couldn't go anywhere near Norfolk, although that would likely be the easiest route. He could just imagine the piles of death and decomposition there. Instead he would cross over the little two lane bridge near old Jamestown.
Sam traveled north and east for several days before coming to the bridge, half fearing and half hoping something had happened to it, maybe destroyed in a storm. It was still intact, but the two lanes were hopelessly clogged. He took the SUV as close as he could and then
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