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ending at Ault Park, a wonderful
public space that he and Rachel visited regularly.  Paul rode through one of
the 25 most populated cities in the U.S. and did not see a soul.  He did not
see any signs of life, a light, a fire, or smoke from a chimney.  He did not
hear a sound, a horn, a gunshot, a car, or a bike bell.  He was alone.
    He sat on a stone bench in the park
for over an hour.  His head was in his hands for much of the time.  Why did he
not help?  He might have prevented all of this, or most of it, if he had just
volunteered to have his blood tested for a cure. 
    Paul rode back to his house.  He
took a shower on his deck using his solar shower, a black rubber bag that
warmed five gallons of water in the sun and used gravity to dispense the warm
water out of a small shower head onto a cold Paul.  He decided to pack his
things and ride to Hank’s house in Dayton.  There was no reason to stay in
Cincinnati, and there was no reason to stay locked in his house.  The world was
over.  He had to find a place to survive the winter, and surviving with his
brother was going to be easier than surviving alone.  He hoped Hank was still
alive.
    The next morning he woke up and
hitched a baby stroller attachment, scavenged from a neighbor, to his bike.  It
was like a two wheeled crib with an orange tent over the top, and zipped a
child in for rides.  Paul loaded it with memorabilia, food, extra clothes,
water, etc…  He did not know how the roads would be up to Dayton, and decided
to travel light and on two wheels.  The roads around Cincinnati were clear, but
that did not mean he could get a car to Dayton.  There could be parked car
jams, accidents, road blocks, and bridge destruction.  A bike afforded Paul
options and the ability to travel between and around obstructions.
    The ride to Hank’s house was about
80 miles.  Paul was not sure he could make it in one day.  The days were
getting shorter, and he was towing a stroller, which would weigh him down.  He
hoped to be up there by early evening, but picked a few points south of Hank’s as
contingency stops. 
    Paul took weather forecasts for
granted his entire life.  What is it going to be like today?  Is it going to
rain tomorrow?  Will a storm blow in?  Paul was riding blind to Dayton.  For
all he knew it could be sunny in the morning before dropping 40 degrees and snowing
by the end of the day.  It was December in Ohio.  When the current warm front would
end was a guess for Paul.  He hoped the answer was a few days from this
morning. 
    Paul went into the back yard to say
goodbye to Rachel.  He cried, made his peace, and stood at the end of his
driveway by 9am. 
    Paul gave his home of 10 years one
last look.  He and Rachel had been happy here, blissfully happy.  They carved a
wonderful life with each other. 
    That life was gone.  It died with
Rachel.  He turned and pedaled towards his new life.  There was little chance
he would ever be as happy again, but whatever lay ahead for him in Hanover was
better than living in the shadow of his former life.
    Paul picked up highway 75 North
towards Dayton.  Unlike the day before, he did not call out in search of
others.  He put his head down and rode.
     

10
     
    The rapture began in the U.S. on
the east coast, ravaging the large cities up and down the sea board before leapfrogging
the center of the country to devastate the west coast.  Dayton, Ohio did not
have a confirmed rapture death until over a month after Raleigh went dark. 
    Hank Dixon survived the rapture. 
His wife and children did not.  He married late in life, and his children were
adopted from his wife’s previous marriage.  None of them carried the cure, or
resistance, or what saved Hank and his brothers.  Losing his wife was
devastating.  The death of his four children was soul crushing.  Physically
Hank was alive.  Emotionally he was dead.
    Hank’s neighborhood was
relentlessly combed and monitored for rapture