Fiddling The look on Dodge’s face said it all. He was scared and determined. His driving was fast and I had to ask him to slow down. We were looking to see if there was someone else, speeding would inhibit that. Plus, as ridiculous as it sounded to slow down, you just never knew if someone or something would wander on the road. Since finding the boy we had to assume there was some likelihood that others were alive. Although, I felt they may be like pollen. Scattered far and wide and unable to be seen. Dodge must have been a people person. Human contact had to play a huge part of his existence, defining him, because he seemed more focused on looking for other survivors than a way to just survive. As if finding people were some sort of validation that the world had not ended. Obviously it hadn’t. I was there, the child was there. But Dodge needed more. We took the same route as previously, back roads through neighborhoods only this time, the boy hit his fist against the back window.
