Alone, Book 3: The Journey Read Online Free

you’re here with me, almost. It’s therapeutic for me. Kind of like those books you’re always reading, about chicken stew being good for my soul. Or whatever. You know what I mean. Quit laughing.
         From a practical standpoint, I’ll also write about things I’ve learned on my journey. Places where we might be ambushed on the way back. Other trouble spots to avoid. Locations of food caches and water sources, and that kind of stuff.
         I’ll keep the journal stuffed in the front of my pants to keep it safe from marauders. At least I hope that’s the one place they won’t look.
         On our way back, it will help guide us. And if something were to happen to me, it’ll make your journey with the girls a little easier.
         And hopefully when you read over my words, you’ll remember how much I loved you.
         It’s almost noon now. I need at least eight hours of sleep so I can be on my game. Especially until I get out of town.
         I’ll see you soon, my love. I must sign off for now.
         As Lawrence of Arabia once told his men: “Today we rest. Tonight we ride.”
         Wish me luck.
         I love you.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
         Dave tried his best to get several hours of quality sleep. He knew he’d have to be alert to spot the dangers that would certainly await him. But try as he might, he was just as excited as an athlete trying to sleep before the big game.
         The best he could manage was a few hours of restless sleep.
         Just before he awoke around nine p.m., he had a troubling dream.
         It was the same dream he’d had once before. His daughter Lindsey came to him, barefoot and in a flowing white gown.
         “Dad,” she told him, “Please be sure you take good care of the rabbits.”
         When he asked her what rabbits, specifically, and why, she turned and walked away.
         When he awakened he looked at the ceiling of his safe room and pondered the dream’s meaning.
         Had Sarah and the girls died? Was it possible that the two rabbits he named after his daughters carried their souls?
         If that was the case, then why were there only two rabbits and not three? And if it wasn’t the case, why would Lindsey be so concerned about the lives of two furry creatures she’d never even met?
         He wondered if he was finally going mad.
         But just in case, he got dressed and went to check on the rabbits in his back yard.
         The watering system he’d put in place under the large pecan tree seemed to be working fine. It consisted of two very large drums, spaced four feet apart. One drum was sealed across the top, but had a tiny ventilation hole an eighth of an inch in diameter punched into the side, an inch from its top.
         The other drum was open at the top.
         Dave had been unsure whether it was better to have open drums to catch rainwater in his absence, or closed tops in case the water evaporated faster than the rains could replenish it.
         So he decided to go with both methods.
         At the bottom of each drum, a small tube of quarter inch hose ran from the drums to a drip pan placed between them.
         At the end of each hose was clamped a piece of cotton, cut from one of Dave’s gym socks.
         The system was simple, really. Each time the cotton got saturated with water, it dripped into the pan.
         When he tested it, Dave couldn’t figure out why the open topped drum dripped faster, at a rate of about six drops a minute.
         He corrected the problem, though, by tightening the hose a bit and placing a crimp in it.
         When he was finished, both drums dripped at about the same rate: about four drops per minute.
         It wasn’t much, he knew. But it had to be enough to make the water in the drums last for at least several months.