Free Journal by Craig Buckhout, Abbagail Shaw, Patrick Gantt

I don’t mean in a sexual way
either.  I think it is true that touching makes an emotional connection as well
as a physical one.  Something very human and personal passes between two people,
at that moment, with just the sensation of touch and even more so with the
exchange of body heat, too.  The transaction seems to break down barriers that we,
as humans, tend to erect to insulate ourselves from one another.  I guess my
point is, it’s sort of hard to have an attitude when you’re hugging someone.
    ____________
    When
it was my turn to stand watch, I gotta tell you, it took every ounce of
willpower I had to leave the relative warmth of that bed.  I thought of every
phony-baloney excuse possible to avoid it, too.  Nobody will be out there in
this cold; I’ll hear them long before they see us; we hid our tracks so well
nobody will find them anyway; it would be better to stay here, hidden among the
rocks, instead of being out there where they might see me first; and so forth. 
When I finally did step outside with my rifle, I found that the new morning didn’t
bring with it new hope.  Instead, it brought with it more trouble.  The ground
was covered with snow and more was falling.  The date was April sixth. 
    After
I got my blood circulating, and when it got light enough to see, I scrounged a
few pieces of semi-dry wood.  To get them burning, it took most of the pages
from the damaged journal.  If ever there was a time to use some of that instant
coffee I found in the shack, that was it, and that’s what I did.  I also thawed
out the remaining pork and beans – they froze overnight.  There was just enough
there for two or three spoonfuls each.  I figured after such a tough night, we
should at least start out with a little something in our stomachs, however
meager. 
    Another
comment.  I seem to be just full of them today.  Pork and beans and instant
coffee were probably two of my least favorite things in my former life.  That
morning, they tasted like the best steak and wine I ever had.  I guess that’s
the way it is when you’re starving.
    Anna
was up and moving by the time I killed the fire, but Gabriel was still down,
which worried me badly.  We had been burning a lot of energy since fleeing the
farm and not taking-in anywhere near enough calories to replenish it.  It
seemed Gabriel had been particularly affected by this.  As I’ve said, he was thin
when we first started out, but he appeared especially shrunken-in on himself that
morning.  I carried him a cup of weak coffee and the last of the beans and told
him to stay where he was while I rolled things up and packed other things away. 
At one point, I looked to check on him, and he seemed more animated but not
greatly so.  Eventually, he did gather himself and load up his belongings. 
Tough kid; mentally tough anyway.    
    As
we were putting the last of our gear away, Anna told me that she thought we had
better change directions and start back.  She explained she was anxious to warn
the people of Woburn of the planned attack and was afraid if we didn’t start
that way right then, we’d not make it in time.
    I
couldn’t believe what I’d just heard.  First, she actually initiated a
discussion with me, and second, she said we, we as in the three of us
together.  The sudden change made me feel good and nervous all at the same time. 
I remember asking myself if I would have felt more at ease if she told me I
could go screw myself if I didn’t want to change directions and that she would
go without me if necessary.  
    I
have to admit, I wasn’t looking forward to going much farther north anyway.  I
was damn cold and it would be even colder in that direction because there would
be at least another fifteen hundred feet of elevation climb, maybe more.  So it
didn’t take a lot of convincing to get me to agree.  In the back of my mind,
though, was the knowledge that we really weren’t all that far away from where
we last