This is a continuation of a confusing series of events. You can go to the beginning of the series here: An Uncivil War
I had a strong premonition that more answers could be found by making my way to the east coast or the west coast, to the Oceans. I did not think of the risk of traveling to the oceans. I hoped my intuition would carry me safely though. And for this trip I brought Billysky my cat along.
I went into the east valley near my home and bought an old beat up van. The van seemed reliable, it was fortified, and was able to carry significant extra fuel. I traded a ream of paper and some pens for it.
My well-hidden cat and I got in the van, then headed east on the only remaining highway that went that direction. Everything I saw looked bad, anemic, like no one cared anymore. We did not get very far before the interstate ended in an enormous but empty parking garage.
I found an attendant and cautiously asked him how close to the shore. He said 60 miles, but the parking garage was the closest anyone could get. I did not ask anymore questions.
Going east was pointless. The east coast offered nothing.
I found a semi-safe spot in the parking garage (because there were no safe spots after all) and Billysky and I slept for the night.
Go West Young Man
The next day we woke up and drove straight through for about 2 days to the West Coast. I thought the trip would be more like 5 days, but apparently the mass governmental bombing changed the geography more radically than I realized.
The country was even worse through its middle, its heartland. It just smelled of bitterness there. I saw things from the window of the van that are too unpleasant to describe here, so I won’t describe them here.
The van had extra gas and lots of “protection” like I was doing some Mad Max thing. Eventually I got to the west coast, but the only place I could physically go was an island off the coast. The island was maybe 8 miles by 4 miles and connected by a bridge.
Once on the island, everything changed dramatically: clean, nicely dressed people laughing in the streets, enjoying cafes, looking happy and healthy. But I also found out quickly they were not at all hospitable to visitors. Not one bit.
The only thing they were happy to tell me as a visitor was the best way to get back to where I came from. Which ironically was by boat. It made absolutely no sense to me, but the geography had changed so much that apparently there was a navigable river running from the west to the east, and it went very close to where my cave home was.
Going Home By Boat
I traded the van for a boat, headed across the open waters, then into the rivers mouth.
I was not in the river for more than 10 minutes when I heard police sirens right behind me. Oh no this was going to be bad. I pulled close to the shore. Then suddenly from the shore a boat captain jumped on board and took the wheel.
The police pulled up next to us, told the captain he was suppose to drive us through the mouth of the river by law, arrested the captain, and asked me if I could drive a boat.
Billysky had gone into hiding quickly when the police pulled up – not a good sign. Clearly not a Neutral. I told the officer, “Yes I can.”
He told me to go about my business quickly and get out of there. I said thank you and was happy to oblige.
About 2 days later, on this west to east river, I noticed the ridge our house was on. Billysky and I hung out until early morning, then made our way back to our cave home.
At least she got to hunt some fish as a distraction.
Index to Chapters in order:
- An Uncivil War
- An Uncivil War: Letting Wounds Heal
- An Uncivil War: Trust No One
- An Uncivil War: The Peculiar Situation With Cats
- An Uncivil War: How It Started
- An Uncivil War: Answers About Cats
- An Uncivil War: The Bombing Begins
- An Uncivil War: Coast To Coast
- An Uncivil War: In Leadership We Don’t Trust
- An Uncivil War: Peace At Last?