Sunlight crept through the doorway, illuminating the old man’s sleeping face.
With a groan, he heaved himself off the small cot and to his feet, swearing as his spine realigned itself from the nights rest.
I watched as he pottered about, muttering phrases and half sentences into his beard.
“…y no quiero levantarme ahora…”
I didn’t respond. He never wanted me to. As he was putting the stove on, I ventured a question.
“¿Adónde vamos a ir, hoy?”
He glared at me for a moment.
" Vamos buscarlo. Te preparas."
It. We were going to search for it, today? My mind seethed at the possibilities. He never said what it was, but I knew it was something beyond your average survivor’s needs. See, we lived in an abandoned air force hanger. We would never exhaust the food stores, and there was more fuel in the storage tanks than the whole of the Midwest. Besides, I doubted anyone else knew how to convert car engines into accepting jet fuel.
The kettle boiled and we had tea, lost in thoughts of what the day would hold.