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a loan to get property anymore. Chances are, land will be free for the taking. In some small way, this appealed to him. He was a modern day pioneer, out to tame the Wild West all over again. Okay, cowboy. You and that fancy head bandage of yours go out and kick some ass . You do that.
    His headache returned with a vengeance a short while later, and Terry decided to take a rest. He popped another three ibuprofen and drank the last of his fresh water. Shit…now what?
    He laid down to rest beneath the boughs of an evergreen, but before he fell to sleep, he remembered something from his long-gone days as a boy scout—charcoal water filter—of course. He could make one. Planning out the design in his head kept him awake for awhile, but he drifted off eventually. I just need a couple of 2-liter soda bottles and a knife….
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    Full dark and a starless sky greeted him as he opened his eyes. Oh shit, what time is it? That was funny…. Time? Nighttime, that’s what time it is . Time, in the conventional sense, (watch time), was dead. Old habits die hard, that’s for sure.
    Brother Bach had given Terry a couple books of matches in his care package, so Terry set out to build a fire. He scrounged around in the dark for tinder and kindling to start a small blaze. Blaze —he missed Blaze. He supposed he’d already be in Seattle by now if he still had Blaze.
    Now was not the time to wax emotional, though. Now was the time to focus on survival. Priority number one was water and that meant making some charcoal.
    He got his fire going without much fanfare, using the pages from the pocket Bible, then sat and enjoyed its warmth. God would understand. The flames swirled and licked the wood, devouring it eagerly and Terry’s mind went to his plan beyond Seattle. What exactly was the plan? He was all for one-day-at-a-time, but what happens the day after he finds Kat and the kids? Might be a pretty good time to start thinking about that….
    Maybe they would head east over the Pass; that might be good. Fewer people, more game and more resources. He was going to need firepower again. That little son of a bitch in Olympia had fucked him over pretty good. I guess the horse played a part, too …. A rifle would be nice— no —necessary. And a pistol, I’ll need another pistol, Terry thought.
    The fire waned and coals formed, casting a soft, infrared glow. Here in the dark, beside a low fire, he could pretend all was well.
    Terry smothered the coals with dirt. Tomorrow he would scoop them up and wrap them in a t-shirt to smash into powder and small bits for his improvised water filter. For now, he would catch a few more winks.

CHAPTER FIVE
    H e was still two days away from Seattle, by foot, which was depressing as all hell. Terry gathered up his coals, ate some blackberries he found growing wild and set off again. His water supply would best be described as unsatisfactory, so he kept his eyes open for plastic bottles for the new filter.
    Up the road, he saw a small group approaching, which gave his heart momentary pause. He was unarmed after all. They didn’t look too menacing, but he picked up a big stick nonetheless. The closer they got, the more he could tell that they were more afraid of him than he was of them. Good….
    When they got to within fifty feet or so, one of them, a younger fella, raised his hand and offered an apprehensive wave. It sort of reminded Terry of when a dog approached low with his tail tucked between its legs. Oh God; please don’t hurt me. I just wanna be your friend.
    Terry raised his hand and returned the salute, then both parties continued their advance toward one another. There were four of them: the young man who had waved, an older man and woman, and a young girl who was maybe twelve. The woman wasn’t doing well. Her arm was draped around the man’s neck, and his arm slung around her waist to help keep her upright. He looked dead tired, and she looked ill.
    “Hello,” Terry offered cautiously and