Reflections on Traveling

Erg. I'm losing track of the days. Not only do we have to move every day and half, but every time we do, we wind up in a different time zone. Claire says she always wanted to see the world, but I'm pretty sure this wasn't exactly what she had in mind. (Though I do have to say that Estonia, while a bit chilly, was lovely.)

I got a reply from Billy - at least, I'm assuming it was Billy, it came in from his e-mail account - a day or two back. It was a fairly oblique message, and mainly seemed to suggest that he'd gotten some version of the story from the Elders... and that the Elders were considering their options. I don't really know what to do with that, and the Whisperers are still tracking us, so I guess we're going to wait until I get better news.

Claire says that her family still doesn't really know what happened. (I cautioned her not to give details, for fear the Whisperers would fall on them, too.) Still, they at least know that she's still alive and not a prisoner of my fellow-worshippers. That's something, anyway.

We've seen them, by the way. Not Claire's family - our fellow worshippers. We ran into a Snake Cultist once, and some of my people twice. The second time with my people, they recognized us - but they didn't speak to us, and they didn't attack. We were due to leave soon anyway, so we went a little early.

This business of being on the run is both weirdly strained and weirdly relaxed. We're in danger - very serious danger - but at least we're not at work. That's going to be a mess, I know. There's no way that either of us will be able to get our jobs back, and after this I may not be able to work in my industry again. Not easily, anyway. To be honest, I'm not sure I'll miss it. It's very strange to think of running for your life as a sort of vacation, but there it is. And besides, strange is a matter of perspective.

Reflections of a Deranged Cultist is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any actual deranged cultists, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.