Angels Don't Fade

An Unbelievable Herd

We'd been driving for a while. The gas from stray cars and from our own abandoned vehicles allowed us to get further than we thought we would. Atlanta was miles behind us, but Fort Benning didn't seem to be getting any closer.

Sophia had braided and re-braided different amounts of my hair throughout a large portion of the journey so far. They'd started off clumsy, each braid still a learning experience. Now, though, I sported a single decent-sized braid on the left side of my hair, it somehow managing to blend in with the rest of my hair. She had looked at it with pride before stopping completely and curling up against her mother.

After that, I'd been left to my own devices. My bag was still inside Dale's RV, so I didn't have access to any of my books. Carl seemed content with staring out the window. Dad was focused on driving. Mom was probably asleep, like all the times we'd ever gone on road trips before. And although I liked Carol, I didn't feel like striking up a conversation with her.

So I sat in silence, a thing that had not been welcomed since the day Dad had been shot. It wasn't long before I fell asleep, memories of people I'd never see again floating through my mind.

Dad's laughter woke me up some time later. It wasn't the fact that it was loud, which told me I just wasn't used to that sort of noise when I was asleep. Not anymore.

"I don't remember that," Carl said. I rubbed at my eyes.

"No, you wouldn't," Mom assured. "You were just a baby. Besides, we never made it past Fort Worth."

"What?" I asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

"No, you got sick. I never knew a baby could throw up so much. Anna was so mad she didn't get to see the Grand Canyon. But she sang you to sleep the whole way back home." Dad smiled brightly, the fond memory on the forefront of his mind.

"Whether anyone wanted her to or not," Mom added with a laugh.

"I think I remember that," I said. There certainly was a memory of singing to Carl in his tiny little baby seat, and constantly placing my hand on his forehead to see if he was still hot.

"You may," Mom said.

"How sick was I?" Carl asked.

"Well, the doctor in Texas said you'd live. Then we turned around and drove home."

"That sucks."

"No, it was a good trip," Mom promised. 

"The best." Dad agreed.

"It'd still be nice if, you know, we didn't have a baby time bomb throwing up on everything."

"Ick," Carl responded. But he still laughed a little bit.

"Yeah, ick," Mom said with a laugh.

"Can we go see it? The Grand Canyon? I would like to."

"I would too," Sophia piped up. "Can we go?"

"We'd never go without you and your mom," Dad said. "I promise."

"Road trip across America! I'm down."

Mom laughed at me. "Of course you are, Anna."

I smiled, trying not to think about the rest of the world. In this moment, things were good. There was a chance of seeing the world when it was just our words and empty promises - but the reality was that I'd never see the world I had so badly dreamed of traveling since I was a child. I'd never go to Italy, or Germany, or Japan, or New Zealand. . . I'd never go anywhere except for here. Possibly a few other places in the US, but for now it seemed like Georgia wouldn't just be my birth place. It was also going to be my death place.