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a better look, to convince myself everything is OK. It’s what I thought: a car seat, empty. I look closer: the harness is still buckled in. The scene progresses before my vision: the woman putting her child into the child seat, buckling him, a golden haired boy, in, and going back to attend to the groceries, just a few random things she’s picked up before dropping him at day care. Halfway through she hears a cry that stops her dead. Her hand pauses on the plastic bag handle. Then, she, and the little flagging arm that peeks from the side of the car carrier simply disappear, as if being erased by the pink end of a giant pencil. I shudder. No time to think of these things right now Dan. I keep walking. The lights are on. The doors still eerily open. The interior is antiseptic: like walking into Wally world at 2 AM because you’ve had a late night smoking and playing games with your online friends and you’re feeling the munchies come on.

But then the aisles are also comforting in a way. I am suddenly confronted with a world of choices and they soon squeeze out almost any room I have in my mind for grief or doubt. I am, for a brief moment, just another Western shopper again.

I’ve amended the list I made yesterday. I want to take some fresh food with me so I want to grab one or more of those fridges that kids use in their dorm rooms. I think I can fit it into the foot well of the passenger seat of the beast and maybe even power it with one of those converter things, which I need to get here, too. I had contemplated briefly yesterday whether or not I should just find an RV and take that with me up to Dallas. You know, travel and stop in comfort and all that, but I think the way before me is going to get hairy. It might be a terrain in which thirty three inch tires and a ten thousand dollar suspension system would come in handy. Mini fridge on a converter it is.

In fact, I forget the groceries for a while and wander, cart-less, to the appliance section of the store, looking for the mini-fridges. I am delighted to find that they make mini-freezers too.

I go back outside to the parking lot on remembering something in the back of the truck I’d noticed yesterday. I open the truck gate and climb onto the bed skirting around all the shit I already have on there. On the back of the cab I find the diamond steel plated box between the two tool boxes on either side of it. On the bottom of the plated box are a row of those covers you see on the outside of houses that go over electrical outlets. There’s lettering on covers. Some of the covers read “Gen” and others read “Alt.” It’s a power console. Under the diamond plate steel must be a power generator. The plugs marked alt must be a direct line to the Beast’s alternator. I examine the outside of the steel case and locate a keyhole. The Beast’s key works and the front panel opens up in two pieces. Inside is a bright red gasoline generator. The clear gas reservoir indicates that it’s three quarters full. I push the starter button and yank the cord and the generator whines to life. I cheer and my triumph echoes through the empty parking lot. I feel self-conscious for no particular reason and turn the generator off again,
    I put grocery shopping aside for a while. I pick out a mini-fridge and a mini-freezer and load them up and wheel them outside on the flatbed car. I de-box them outside and toss the boxes aside. I plug in the two tiny appliances and restart the generator. I can barely tell but they boxes shudder to life under my hands. I open the doors and the little lights come on. They hum to life. Yes. Then I turn off the generator. I plug the fridges into the outlets marked alt and get off the truck bed. I start he car and go back and check on the fridges. They’re on and humming again. I take the bungee cord I’d found in Wally world and lash the fridges down tight as I can. Then I jam the other stuff against them so they won’t shift around too much.