The Fallowing – Epilogue
by Steppen Sawicki
This is it! That was my book! Hoped a few people enjoyed it. I never actually meant to finish the silly thing, but it was what I needed at the time. I have another book on the way, so stay tuned.
As the train plows through miles of snow, I can see the runoff settling into the white expanse on either side, out the windows to left and right. It reminds me of days trekking short miles and nights sleeping short dreams, out in the cold wilderness. But those memories drift away in the presence of heating piped through vents, cushy carpets, ambient music in the dining cars, plush seats in the sleeping cars. Even my memories of home are fading, growing dim as if my mind can’t hold all these events, needs space to try to process everything. I’m tired and anxious and my heart hurts all the time, trying to tell me something. Still, I remember my promise to myself, to the world.
I’m taking the Chicago to San Diego route, with stopovers in Kansas City and Albuquerque, though I don’t plan on getting off until the end of the line. I’ve heard rumors of a strange watchmaker in California. From there – if I find what I need – I plan to take a straight shot to D.C. The radiation has passed now, and he might be there, in his home. It’s somewhere to start.
I know he has his powers back, even if I can’t be sure how he’ll use them. I have the knife blade, scrounged up from the ruins of St. Patrick’s, even if I have no word to put to it. And I have my promise to destroy them all, even if I have less resolve to place before it.
So I search for him. I haven’t decided what I’ll do when I find him. But I can’t choose if I don’t try. So I try.