Leila’s funeral will be tomorrow. Although I would like to bury her properly, Mundo, Doc, Alaina and the others said cremation would be better than attracting attention in one of the parks by digging a grave. Graves just end up being dug up anyway by dogs looking for a meal or by kids hoping something valuable got buried with the deceased.
We think by tomorrow we’ll have other dead and if we plan for a cremation we won’t have to worry about how many graves to dig. We’ll just light one big fire for all of them.
How many? We don’t know. Zach has Telo and there’s no telling how long he’ll last. When it strikes a young person, they generally linger for awhile, unlike older people whose telomeres were already short to begin with. But we told Zach we would help him commit suicide any time he asks, so he might be dead by tomorrow, too.
And then there’s our people who went to fight the Christian Soldiers. They aren’t back yet and no one has heard any word. There was a big fire to the south this afternoon, with lots of smoke. We don’t know if it has anything to do with the battle, though. As of an hour ago there was still a glow toward the south and a smell of something toxic in the air. No telling what it means. It was too far away to send one of our remaining guards to investigate, and the Thespians are in the same situation we’re in. Unless we know for sure where our people are, we can’t send anyone traipsing the city on a goose chase.
So we wait.
I could end up burning Galahad along with Leila by tomorrow. The thought makes me anxious and I pace the rooms when it gets too bad. No one minds or even seems to notice. We’re all scared and coping in our own way. Alaina snapped at the children and locked herself in her room. Doc and Rochelle have rearranged their triage setup four times already, ignoring their patients, who I’ve been caring for when I’m calm enough to do more than pace the halls like an animal trapped in a zoo.
What wouldn’t I give for just one working cell phone tower or television station right now?
Sid is holed up in his office and I heard him trying to get a radio broadcast when I walked past, but all he got was static, which is all he ever gets. I don’t know why he thinks it will ever be different. I guess we each have our own form of optimism.
But I’m not optimistic. I won’t be able to burn Galahad’s body. I’d rather dig a grave and climb in with him so I can die holding his bones. Crazy, I know. All these deaths must be catching up with me and I’m finally losing my mind.