Day 2: Boat Ride & First Impression of the Old World

Thick fog covered the water around us and obscured our vision for the first 30 or so minutes of the ride to the Old World. I almost regretted leaving my wind breaker with Mandy because my skin goose pimpled in the cold night breeze. Not like it would've helped much anyway. There was a big rip on the back of the left arm from where Mom had found it stuck under a pile of wood in the Old World during her first trip there. She was sick of me freezing my butt off on the way to the school house so she grabbed it. When she did, because she didn't realize how fragile it was, it ripped. Not bad, just a 3 or 4 inch long tear, easily fixable. The only problem was: I never stopped wearing the thing! I loved it so much. It was the deepest shade of purple I'd ever seen and my mother had gotten it for me so I didn't want to let her effort go to waste.

Right when I was about to curl into a ball to keep myself warm, Ol' Miss Angie--our elderly next door neighbor--placed an extra blanket around my shoulders. I could feel her body heat under the blanket, she'd been using it as a cushion to sit on.
    "I'll be fine. I'll have enough yarn from this visit to make blankets for the whole town." She smiled to herself, squinting through her thick bottle-cap glasses up at the moon. Through the fog, it glowed brighter than any of the towns street lights. I wondered what it looked like from the tops of the Old World buildings. Some of them are tall, I know because I've seen them from where we live. Mom left behind telescopes for Mandy and me, and sometimes--when I knew everyone was asleep--I'd point them all towards the city, towards different areas. Towards homes, stores, the beach shore, towards those shiny mirror buildings. They can say what they want about the Old World, about the monsters left there, but no one can deny it's beauty.

Without realizing it, I fell asleep leaning against Miss Angie's leg. She woke me up when we hit the shore of the Old World. A city stretched over us, some of it with small vines growing up it's sides, some of it untouched. Our party leader, Pastor Johnson, handed everyone their guns and plenty of ammo to keep us busy for the next couple of weeks. He said to check the local "Wal-Mart" for any other supplies we needed, but to go in pairs if we decided to go tonight. No one volunteered when I asked if they wanted to come with me so I gave up and followed everyone to the hotel for the night.

Apparently a lot has changed since Pastor Johnson last visited the Old World. He said this hotel we're staying in is getting worse with each trip. He has deemed the top two floors too dangerous for sleeping, so we get our pick of rooms on any of the other eight floors. Other than Miss Angie and me, it's all men, so we get a whole floor designated to ourselves. Whether it's me and her on one floor, or on separate floors, no man is allowed there with us. Pastor Johnson made that rule more for me than for Miss Angie. He pulled me to the side and told me so.
    "You're...growing up. You're a very beautiful young lady. Though I trust our people, sometimes men...make bad decisions. Women do too, don't get me wrong. But men can be...monsters and with the way things get when times are tough, they sometimes get desperate. So, here's some extra ammo from my pack." He handed me a little pink fanny pack. "Now you wear this all the time. If you feel like someone or something is coming after you or that someone's going to hurt you, don't you hesitate to load that gun and blow someone's fucking head off." I took the pack of ammo and wrapped it around my waist. The way he said it was funny but I didn't dare laugh because I knew he was serious. Pastor Johnson helped raise my sister and me so I know he only cusses when he's being straight.

I picked the eighth floor as my own, climbing in bed right as the sky began to light up. In every other room on the floor, there's mold growing through the ceiling. I'm glad I listened and stayed away from the top two floors. The only room where the mold is unnoticeable is the master suite on the eighth floor. It has wall to wall mirrors, even ceiling mirrors. I'm not exactly sure what you'd need a mirror on the ceiling for but I imagine it's a girl thing.

We were each handed a can of disinfectant Pastor Johnson got from the check-in desk in the lobby of the hotel to sanitize our beds and sheets with. He said he doesn't want us getting the sickness. I knew he felt bad talking about it because he looked away when he talked about a woman, after the last trip, getting sick from an unsanitary bed and dying on the ride back.

Needless to say, I sanitized the bed as best I could before climbing in it and drifting off into a deep, uneventful sleep.
-Jemma