K. Marvin Bruce

  As the stream began to climb, it had formed a natural setting for a mill.   Dilapidated, the remains of one crouched alongside the stream.   This was far from where anybody now lived, like the Deserted Village in Watchung Reservation.   Danielle had taken him there.   Technically Feltville, it had been a place where a community had thrived, but had eventually been abandoned.   Houses still stood, falling apart, but the area was now being preserved.   Of course, in New Jersey nothing was really far from anything else, but here?   From the mill Terah saw scattered, clearly forsaken houses, up on the hill. Some towns, like New Amsterdam, caught on and became New York City.   Others, like Pithole City near where he had entered the world, were left to rot.   It was like when you had an idea and began to follow it, but others dropped out when it wasn’t an instant success.   Terah recalled that Weird New Jersey had designated the area a...

  Terah and Mich huddled near a meager fire as the dark settled in.   On some level they both realized they’d need to find more proper shelter before reaching St. Grosstestes.   Terah had guessed in the light of day that Mich was female.   The constant shadow of the asylum meant he never had much in the way of visual cues.   She, for her part, had good reason for keeping the truth hidden.   Now with Terah requiring some tending, and the practicalities of biological functions, she had to be honest. “This doesn’t change anything,” Terah assured her. “Why should it?” she asked.   “It ain’t like were Eve and Adam.   I just figured you should know.” “My apologies for being so crude back in Honest Oahusha.” “It ain’t like I never seen a dick before.   I just don’t want ya thinkin’ that now I’ve seen yers I want it or anything.   I don’t.” “I didn’t assume.   We’ve got our work cut out for us with all these complications.”   He rubbed...

  The two held as still as coral in a sea of fog.   Had someone heard them?   Surely it was foolhardy to shoot even at trespassers that can’t be seen.   Afraid to speak, they stood as if Medusa had seen them, their feet growing cold in the slushy snow. Another report—loud and aggressive.   Terah instinctively raised his hands.   A third shot.   Mich ventured a whisper.   “There’s a shootin’ range near here, now I remember.   Someone must be tryin’ out his Christmas gun.” “How can they see to shoot?” “It’s enclosed.   At least partially.   Like bein’ in a barn.   Still, we’re too close to other people.” Mich was right.   Their best chance was to stay deeper in the woods.   They changed course and measured progress by decibel.   “I don’t even know what day it is,” Terah admitted. “Shootin’ ranges are open most any day.   We probably weren’t in any danger.   I don’t know what direction were headin’, though...

  The morning was foggy.   The temperature had crept up in the night, sublimating the snow to vapor that hung in the damp, warmer air.   Terah was beginning to long for days when he could linger upon awakening without having to jump immediately into action.   Those days when he’d awake next to Danielle, warm and cozy, if not properly employed.   Opening his eyes and finding it dark, scooting over to her warm body and wrapping an arm around her.   Even if this didn’t lead to making love, it made him feel accepted, happy, and content.   When was the last time he’d opened his eyes to normalcy? There was still wet, heavy snow on the ground.   He dashed out of the cave, following Mich’s slushy footprints.   He could only see a foot or two ahead, so running was out of the question in this rocky terrain.   He didn’t want to call out—the homeless don’t want to draw attention to themselves.   At least he’d be able to navigate back to his stu...