7/23 5:44pm

Diced canned tomatoes. Hot, condensed chicken broth. Freeze dried salami. All cooked together into a thick, salty stew amended with rice and bow tie noodles. What do you have when you put it all together? The most delicious thing I’ve eaten in my life. Courtesy of the rumpled vet sitting across from me.

You see, that old man was smart enough to stockpile. He was smart enough to get outta dodge when the National Guard unit came in. And he was smart enough to save me from my idiotic predicament. He even had the bright idea to camp out near Spedwater River so he could draw water whenever he needed. He does not, however, quite realize the oddity of talking to your dog as if she cares what you’re saying. I admit, she's a nice dog, and she must know her way around this strange world. She's surviving better than me, at least.

When I asked Dave how he knew I was in that damn tree, his answer went something like: “Boy, you need to realize that this world ain’t the world you’re used to. Guns aren’t the best, tanks aren’t the best, and sure as shit trucks ain't the best for this world. Now, Dead Ed, ain’t your typical Charlie. Can’t see real good any more, but can hear pretty good. Guess he ain’t got messy body noises like breathing to keep him distracted. So these goners, they just follow their ears. That’s why I hitched a ride in that shit-on-wheels suburban.”

“Goners likes loud noises. And anymore, loud noises are only caused by people, you an’ me and other live folks. I been tracking the whereabouts of Ed and his friends, and when they all started to move your way, I followed. See, I figure they’d lead me right to some poor sap,” he glances at me from across the embers, “some poor sap that got hisself stuck in a tree like a kitten, what couldn’t figure how to get down.”

“Got their interest with that there truck, then come on back with a silent ride. This ride,” he wheezes, patting the tandem cycle with a loving hand.

The codger is nutty as a wheezing madhouse. Following a pack of moaners? On a bicycle? I may have been the one up a tree, but his mind’s the one in free fall. And now I’m sitting here with him, in his camp, eating his food.

Figures.

The normal ones, fit for the world of insurance rates and alarm clocks and high priced ‘luxury toilet paper’ are gone. Now, only the crazies and the dead are left. And Daisy, who eyes me, asking for some of that salami.