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One of the passengers was the drunken doctor, Brian Elacqua Too inebriated to comprehend the orders to relocate to the da where everyone had gone He had passed the twenty-four hours since his return to Kerrville drinking himself into oblivion in the abandoned house that had once been his--a ed to find it--and awakened to a silence and darkness that disturbed hi his house in search of unfire erupted along the wall He was profoundly disoriented and still quite drunk Di? He decided to head for the hospital It was a place he knew, a touchstone Also,on As he unfire had continued, and he was hearing certain other sounds as well: vehicles racing, cries of distress As the hospital cae of shooting Elacqua hit the dirt He had no idea what to make of any of this; it seemed entirely unconnected to him Also, he wondered, with sudden concern, what had become of his wife? It was true that she despised him, yet he was accustomed to her presence Why was she not here?
These questions were shoved aside by the sound and shock of a treround A truck had crashed into the front of the building Not just into: it had raot to his feet and stuht Perhaps they needed help "Get in!" a man yelled from the cab "Everybody in the truck!" Elacqua wobbled his way up the steps and beheld a scene of such disorder that his addled brain could not co wo the over their heads in the direction of the stairwell Elacqua was caught in the crush Froe of a familiar face Was that Sara Wilson? He had a sense that he’d seen her rather recently, though he could not pull theinto the truck seeh theall around and underfoot The driver of the vehicle was racing the engine By this tiate The truck was packed with people, barely any roo one foot onto the buo coree of physical coordination he didn’t think he could muster
"Help me," he moaned
A hand, heaven-sent, reached down Up and into the truck he went, tu over bodies as the vehicle shot forward A syncopation of bone-jarring bangs followed as the truck sailed out of the building and down the steps Through the fog of terror and confusion, Brian Elacqua experienced a revelation: his life had been unworthy It ood and decent man--but over the years he had strayed far froht, I won’t ever touch a drink again
Which was how, sixteen hours later, Brian Elacqua came to find himself on a school bus of 87 women and children, deep in the physical and existential sorrows of acute alcohol withdrawal It was still early olden color He had, with many others, watched froht He wasn’t co There was talk of a ship that would take theh he found this difficult to fathom Why had he, of all people, a man who had squandered his life, the most worthless of worthless drunks, survived? Seated on the bench beside hiirl with strawberry-blond hair, tied in back with a ribbon He supposed she was four or five She earing a loose dress of thick woven fiber; her feet were dirty and bare, covered with numerous scratches and scabs At her waist she clutched a ratty stuffed toy, so She had yet to acknowledge hi forward "Where are your parents, honey?" Elacqua asked "Why are you alone?" "Because they’re dead," the little girl stated She did not look at him as she spoke "They’re all dead"
And with that, Brian Elacqua dropped his face to his hands, his body shaking with tears
--
At the wheel of the first bus, Caleb atching the clock The hour was approaching noon; they had been on the road a little irls He was down to half a tank; they planned to stop in Rosenberg, where a tanker from the isthmus wouldLulled by the rocking of the chassis, most of the children had fallen asleep