He dressed quickly. He had worn the same filthy clothes four days. Any clothing that was found or could be stripped off the dead were collected and parceled out as needed. He was given a pair of trousers with a broken zipper. They were too short and two sizes big in the waist. He had found some curtain cord that he tied as a belt and a rusty safety pin for the zipper. At least it kept his pants from falling off. He was given a tee shirt with an image of an owl on the front and the word "Hooters" in big letters. The double O's made up the large eyes of the owl. He liked its mustard color. Strangely, there had not been found any socks yet so he slipped his bare feet into the boots that were given him. He thought that they must have been made with a synthetic material as it caused him a rash that itched constantly. But at least they were close to his size and protected his feet. The nicest item was a lightweight rain jacket. It had a hood and drawstring. It helped keep him warmer in the morning chill. Someone on clothes detail must have not searched the pockets. In one was an unopened package of "Juicy Fruit" chewing gum and in the other, one of those multi - functional tools with pliers, screwdriver, a blade and even a corkscrew. Written across the back were "Bob's Texas Barbecue" and a phone number. He thought how good a plate of hot barbecue and cornbread would taste. And last he threw on his cap. It was one of those plastic mesh baseball caps that he used to see old men in Florida wear. On the front it said “Lake Okeechobee". He smiled as he thought of one of the guys on his work detail who called him "Jethro".

There was little spare time to slog back to where the evening "conclave" was held. It was not a good thing to be late to the "conclave". And if you missed, you didn't eat. You could be punished in a variety of ways. It was at the whim of the "Seers". They were the group of men who directed the work and provided spiritual direction. He had always understood the word differently. It could be that your infraction was punished simply by being assigned to an unpleasant work detail. That's what had happened to him and which got him placed on a burial team. He hoped that with good behavior that his sanction would be lifted. Or the punishment could be more severe. The "Seers" called it "amercement". It was just a formal term for a public flogging. He had only seen it inflicted once. The terrified boy was held by his arms and legs by four men and stretched across the hood of a burned out Volvo station wagon. The masked "castigator" stepped forward and gave a short announcement. He informed the crowd of the infraction, admonished them to take heed and then shouted, "Thus it shall be towards those who would hobble the work of the Lord!" With that he delivered ten brutal blows across the boy's exposed backside with a length of black hydraulic hose. In his mind, he could still hear that boy scream in agony. He had to stifle the thought of garroting this masked punisher until his face shone purple. Other "Seers" were watching for aberrant expressions of those in the crowd. It was better to have a look on your face that conveyed your approval. Evidently the boy and a young girl had wandered off by themselves. They had been seen kissing in what used to be a park behind the village library. It became clear to him that everyone was being watched.

He made his way towards the pavilion. He estimated that there might be an hour and a half before the sun set. He mentally calculated that it would take an hour for the "conclave"...depending on who of the "Seers" would give the address. Some were more zealous and long winded than others. Fifteen minutes to eat whatever had been prepared and enough time to get to his quarters in the remaining light. He picked his way carefully up the street. There was destruction and debris as far as he could see. It was a horrifying maze of uprooted trees, shattered power poles and electrical lines, toppled buildings, burned and crushed vehicles, blackened craters...some still emanating a wisp of smoke. It was the shards of glass and nails that he was most cautious of. He stepped carefully.

Not far from the pavilion the village water tower lay across the street. Because of its height, the tank itself had smashed into the front of the building that housed the local appliance sales. The four large legs of the tower lay crumpled and twisted across the street. He thought it must have looked like a Star Wars heavy assault walker vehicle when it came down.

He made his way cautiously under the tank. He knew it was unwise but it was the shortest path to take. As he passed what was the entrance to the appliance store, there lay the carcass of a dog. The flies had come and he could see their feasting progeny on the eyes and open mouth of this yellow dog. He paused and thought that this dog looked familiar. His neighbor had a dog like this. A golden retriever he remembered they named Beau. He stooped down and gently removed the collar from around the dog’s neck. The maggots didn't bother him. Not compared to what he had been working with the last week or so. There was an attached tag on the collar. He took the multi-function tool from his pocket and clipped off the tag from the collar. He studied it momentarily, stuck it in his baggy trouser pocket and resumed his walk towards the pavilion.