I opened my eyes expecting I'd open them to you. I longed to see you lying there next to me on the hood of the old Mustang. However I awoke to find something missing. That something being your body, missing from its proper place at my side. You kept to your word by leaving, only I'd wished this time you lied. I wished this time you could have strayed away from doing the right thing. I wished it just for once...

The sun sat low on the desert's horizon. Lazily climbing higher into the sky, leaving a blood red trail in its wake. A cool, dry breeze skimmed across the skin of my bare arms and legs sending a shiver through me. Unknowingly, my fingers stretched out in search of your rough hand. The only rough touch they found was that of the blanket beneath me.

Bittersweet memories of the night before filled my mind. It was an odd sensation, playing the past events over in my head. It was like a dream, distant and foggy, it made me feel lighter in some way. Though it also seemed sure, and it was because of this feeling that I knew it truly was no dream...

We drove for hours into both the desert and the night. Clouds of dust billowed behind us as we traveled on. My fingers were laced in my hair, which was dancing wildly in the cool wind. The cool wind that poured through the old Mustang's open windows. I had no clue where we were going, but I never bothered to ask him. I've learned to enjoy his spontaneous behavior. It was really one of the many things I loved about him.

Suddenly the car began to pull to a stop. The dust settled behind our car. "This is it," he said, looking over to me with eyes gleaming.

"If you're talking about the middle of no where, then yes, this is it," I repeated his short statement. "What are we doing here?"

"Let me show you," with that he reached behind his seat and grabbed a thick gray blanket, smiled excitedly at me, and hopped out of the car. Watching from my seat, I observed him walk towards the front of the car and unfold the blanket he held in his arms. With a big swooping motion he splayed the blanket across the hood of the car. He made a gesture with his hand for me to join him, and so I did, stepping out of black vehicle and into the chilly night air. I came around to join him on the blanket.

For a few minutes, neither of us said a word. Finally I broke the silence. "So?" I asked simply.

"So?" He mimicked. I looked up at him from where I lay on the hood. He was propped up on one elbow, staring up at the night sky.

Gazing intently at the boy who lay beside me, I proceeded to ask, "Why did you bring me out here?" The boy didn't respond, only turned his face down to mine. Our eyes stayed locked on each others, unwavering, until he brought his lips to mine. It wasn't the kind of answer I'd expected, but a sure as hell was pleased with it.

From that point on, our fingers remained laced together. Few words were exchanged, but the silence never bothered us. A span of blissful quiet had settled in, only to be disturbed as he said in barely more than a whisper, "You know I have to go, don't you?" Sadness hit me like a brick. It became known to me finally, the means of this outing. It was his way of saying goodbye.

"Yes," was all I managed to get out. My voice quivered, and I felt him squeeze my hand.

"You know I love you, don't you?" He questioned, tilting his head to face mine.

This time I gave no response, only tightened my grip on his large hand.

"I wanted to say good-" he began to explain, but I cut him off.

"No. You're not saying goodbye. Not yet..." I trailed off and I tear skittered down my cheek.

"I'll be gone before morning, this is my only chance to say it." He persisted.

"Don't say it. Not yet." I snapped. With a sigh of defeat, he gave up the argument.

Before I knew it, my eyelids had grown too heavy to keep open. My breathing slowed to an deep and even rhythm. I was on the edge of consciousness when I felt his lips gently press against my forehead. Faintly I heard him whisper the words I dreaded hearing, "goodbye, Ana."

Finally, and without my consent, I succumbed to slumber, a brief murmur of a goodbye rippling on my lips.

As my memory ended, my heart sank deeper into my chest. I grabbed a hold of the rough blanket under me and pulled it close, burying my face into its gray fabric.

An image of a face materialized in the back of my mind. A face that I would likely never see again. Looking out into the distant desert horizon, I whispered, "Goodbye, Charlie.."

I had been taken out of time again. Or did my own spirit move through my lower consciousness as if it were water , swimming in the tides of Quantum eternity? All I know is that questions of time of who existed who exactly was I as it seemed like "I" was many swimming through this Multiversal Timeline as a school of Snakes, the kind that eat their own tail encircling the world! I was aware that each time I awoke the spirit inside my husband had changed, the house was backdrop only. Where was I really and WHO???? The Portals I created for Power The Writ in Blood to Satan to Own my Soul and my Immersion in a supposedly fictional Grimoire : The Necronomicon, to the actual AGE of the home and the mysterious mountains and ancient forests around it... This was a heady cocktail that began bending reality truly. The fact is I had been to the furthest reaches of time and traveled into the " empty bodies" of celebrities and political figures ... An Illuminati Outreach Program had begun to make use of my strength energy and to be honest with the addition of some excellent class As my complete IDIOCY in opening a million fucking doors .... Astral travel? wonderful ! Would be really nice though if I was not used by unseen fingers and they could return my husband- Brother - Twin - whoever the HeLL he really was would the Ancient Dragon Spirit that resides within him please stop testing me.... And yes , I am now. Dry . Of. Energy. For . The . Watchers. I want only my beautiful home my best friend and simple human pleasures . I heard of another who awoke after a session of ritual who had gone through a cleansing so intense that she found her whole universe was chimeras... And the cosy bed she slept in switched to a rusty hulk in a NEVERENDING desert.... A blanket spread upon the top, she awaited someone.... She heard footsteps ....at this moment I put protection around myself so that this horror will never ever happen to me... It is as simple as love and complex as chaos theory. Which one is the dream. Which one is not? I choose the one that contains warmth and love.

Those words echoed in my head the entire time I was in the inky black. I lifted my head from the slowly heating red hood of the convertible. The sun was already 1/8th of the way up and the heat was intolerable. Sitting up was the worst part, since at least 15 pellets of mescaline rolled off the front of my shirt, onto the hood, and stopping on the dry ether rag. Well, it wasn't a rag, it was more of a throw blanket that we used for the ether. We used it so all three of use could inhale at the same time. I could've sworn I could remember what got us here. I'm sure it was a crash caused by the bats. Raoul was still slumped over the steering wheel, and Dr. Gonzo was sprawled over the back seat, with a lovely beer glaze over his bare stomach, dried by the rising heat. "You Samoan fool!" Raoul snapped as his head ripped off the wheel. "You and your countryman need to learn how to drive properly in the states! We almost got killed by your compatriot. What's your angle, huh?" Dr. Gonzo twisted over wildly like a crocodile in it's death roll. "Me and my compatriot? I'm a man with no country! AS your attorney, I advise you to keep your mouth shut about things you shouldn't know. That lizard that hit the windshield was dressed very dapper, you should be worried about that." I slid off the hood as they jousted. I leaned down and collected the dropped pellets and stuffed them in my pocket. "The lizard that was dressed very dapper? Are you mad, man? I thought you Samoans could handle the heat? What aren't you telling me, you foreign traitor?!" Raoul kicked the driver door open and fumbled across the sandy shoulder of the road, to the far side of the car. "Again, I advise you, as your attorney, to shut your mouth before you say too much in front of our third wheel over there." Dr. Gonzo points a dry, crooked finger at me as he pulled down his sunglasses with the other hand. "Where did you come from and who do you work for? Is it the lizard? He looked like he recognized us, at least Raoul. TELL ME!" Calmly, I grasped at the pellets that I had shoved into my breast pocket of my shirt. "Who do I work for?" I toss the mescaline at Dr. Gonzo and he drops behind the bench front seat of the car. "I'm Mr. Duke's photographer! You loonies drove us off just after the race started!"

A desert. Now, exactly which one, I don't know, but it's obvious I've gotten out of my car somewhere in the middle of Africa. Last night the undeads followed me to a creepy village a few miles back and I've run out of food. Great. And there's nowhere to hide in the desert.

My plan is simple: I'll stay here in the Volvo wagon for now, take inventory, and drive as far as I can tonight, hopefully before they catch up to me. Which by the looks of it won't be long. Back in the village, everybody I saw was infected and most were dying. The desert in this case is beginning to seem much, much better.

I tuck myself under a blanket in the old car and try to settle down enough to fall asleep--a near impossible task due to my 'situation.'

A few days ago a zombie took a chunk out of my thigh, but the pain is starting to subside. Maybe the infection is working its way into my bloodstream? I don't know and there's no reason to care, because I can't do anything about it.

You see, people with strong immune systems don't get bit.

Well, they can, but they don't get infected.

Not usually.

At home I was a runner, and rarely ever got sick. I ate my vegetables. I took medicine if I needed it. My immunity has to be pretty good then, right?

There's not much more to do than wait...and "hope for the least bad."

That was my dad's motto.

A few hours later the sun has almost set and I'm recharged and ready to kill. The undeads can't really go out in the sun, which is only an advantage to those who think it is. I'm one of those.

It means, though, that you can't dispose of them during the day. They just dissolve into the ground at any touch of sunlight, only to come back at night. How helpful is that?

I realize I've wasted most of my time taking stock. One blanket, check. I spread it out on the hood of the Volvo to have a nice bird's-eye view of danger.

A six-inch fillet knife. Machete. One gallon bottle of water; it's warm and probably nasty. Another one half-full of coins. I've also got a gun without any bullets.

One earplug, a Black Keys cd, a gum wrapper, a hairband, and my keys. No maps. No manual. What kind of car doesn't have a manual?

Suddenly I hear a thump and a 'whoosh' from somewhere behind my dune. (Something actually went 'thump' in the desert, and I was guessing it wasn't an elephant).

I grab the knives and gun (who knows?) and scramble up to the roof of my car. Laying myself flat down on the blanket, I watch as three or so blurry figures gradually appear out of the swirling sand. They're dragging something. I get a sick feeling as I realize it's a body.

It seems to take forever for the pack to reach my car, but by then I'm prepared for them. I kneel into a crouch and bare my teeth, expecting a fight. Then, one of them speaks.

"It's okay. We won't hurt you."

My heart thuds. That's what they always say.

"Really!" says another. If I didn't know, I would be tempted to believe them.

"Show yourselves," I yell.

The last thing I remember seeing is the face of my father, who is supposed to be dead, telling me,

"It's okay, Linsie. We're clean!"

I awaken to loud shattering of bottles that once contained whiskey. To screams of my wife. Her face filled with worry.

*You! I have been worried about you!* She cries.

The night before, we argued. Screamed. About my affair. She screams loudly, throwing my clothing and work. I wander off from town, into the desert. I come across an abandoned car. I place the fleece blanket on top, the full bottle resting in my hands. I swallow my regrets and mistakes. My eyes slowly closing.

I awaken to loud shattering of bottles that once contained whiskey. To screams of my wife. Her face filled with worry.

I smile, only to realize with my mistakes, she truly does love me.

*Why are you smiling?!* She continues to sob

"You still care, after everything."

She nods her head. *I do.*