Page 38 of The End of the World As We Know It

“Tell me about it.”

“There was this old woman. Really old, like a hundred, with a wrinkled face.”

“More wrinkles than me? “Nancy asked.

That earned a smile. “Way more. She was Black and walked witha cane. She reminded me of my grandmother. She was on a farm surrounded by a cornfield. People were singing old-time hymns.”

“Such detail!”

“I know. It felt real.”

“What did you talk about with her?” Nancy asked, sure it would have something to do with the epidemic.

“She told me I should come see her. If I left now, I should go to Nebraska. If I was delayed, I should go to Boulder.”

“That’s really specific.”

“I know. The thing is—I woke up wanting to go.”

Nancy sniffed. “It was just a dream.”

“I know. But still…” She paused, as if reluctant to continue. “There was something else. Something watching us. A man with no face, who turned into a crow with red eyes. He terrified me, but the old woman made me feel safe.” Dottie didn’t mention the vision she’d had of rows of people who’d been crucified.

After they got dressed, they made breakfast and carried it down to the community hall, certain they would find some of the others there. In fact, everyone was, even Harry.

“Them youngsters are on duty now,” he said. “They was late, but they showed up.”

“I made a lot of noise outside their room this morning,” Helen said with a smug smile. “Made sure they were up.”

Harry doffed a pretend hat at her. “Thank ya kindly, ma’am.”

Helen blushed.

“I’m thinking about going to Vegas,” Wally Martin said as he filled his coffee cup from the thirty-cup urn Margaret had started an hour earlier. His voice had an airy, dreamlike quality.

“Vegas?” Mildred said with obvious disdain. “Sin City?”

“Yup. I got a personal invitation from a guy named Randy in my dreams last night. Funniest damn thing. He told me to come on down, just like Bob Barker. It was the happening place and all the cool folks were headed there. Anyone want to come with me?”

Nancy glanced at Dottie, who gave her a meaningful stare. Nancy got the message and remained silent.

“Might just do it. Go out with a bang. Throw snake eyes one last time.”

Evelyn, his wife, swatted him on the shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I don’t like those odds,” Dick said with a forced laugh.

Nancy wondered if anyone else had had vivid dreams, but no one volunteered to describe them if they had.

The TV stations were still broadcasting static except for the one where Barney Fife was contemplating the use of his one bullet. Helen gave her husband a couple cups of coffee and a tray of pastries to take down to the Mitchells. “Tell me what you think of them,” Dick said. “Let me know if they’ve got what it takes.”

“To do what?”

“Point a gun at someone. Pull the trigger if necessary.”

“Gotcha.”

Charles was back five minutes later, panting. “They’re gone,” he announced.