[Izulde]

In the mid-90s, a cute little car said Hi to the world. As a teenager, the quiet simplicity of Dodge Neon's, "Hi." ad struck me so powerfully, it became my car of choice ever since.

Even now, as I pack my dark grey 2005 Neon - the last year it saw production in the United States before its relaunch in certain countries internationally, I can't hold back my smile. I love this car and so does my dog as he leaps in the backseat and settles in with a yawn.

Dog and car - the only cute things in my life. Well, I suppose the Surface Pro I toss in the trunk as the last item, too. Clunk as down goes trunk - a sound prelude to my getting in and starting up the car. But I suppose that's better - the way things are right now, the obligations of a wife, much less children, would be too much to handle.

No, it really is better this way as I back up out of the garage and down into the street that river-winds through my townhouse complex. It's easier to get away - to escape while this contagion ravages the country, compounded by the mouth-breathing morons whose malevolence and selfishness will murder us all.

Out of the complex, out of the city, out of the state, out of civilization entirely. I'd considered the mountains near my adopted town for sanctuary, but desert life is not appealing. Too many snakes and scorpions.

And so it's Go East middle-aged man. Past the centuries, past the course of the sun, back, back into the past and the Midwest whence I sprang.

In the passenger's seat, a stack of heavy and thick books - "Medieval Nobility - An Illustrated Series".

A modern-day, real-life Decameron I'm not. But there will be stories nonetheless.

I take my time driving across the country, stopping periodically only to refuel, take the dog for a walk, and purchase gas station supplies. Beef jerky suffices - it's a source of protein, though I don't know if it's low carb. Then again, my life is not a 600-lb one, even if my stomach has run to fat thanks to too much sugar. And not even a steady diet of Marlboro Special Blend 27s can cut the appetite enough to ward off the creep north of 200 that seems to be my adult weight - over 40 pounds north of the buck sixty I maintained in my marvelous metabolism high school years.

Two weeks of paid time off will be sufficient to get me where I'm going and then some, while I settle in. I learned from the mistake of another friend who hadn't taken a vacation in a year, then upon being one of the casualties of the current economic crisis, discovered that his now-former employer didn't pay out for unused PTO. He's still angry about that - not that I blame him. But it was still a good lesson for me that didn't cost me the currency of my own experience. I do try to learn from the missteps of others.

Which isn't to say that I take every bit of advice I come across. In a small Nebraska 7-11, I pick up a few bottles of Vitamin Water, despite hearing the snorting memory of another friend. "They're just sugar bombs pretending to be water," he'd said one soft early May evening as we sat out in his back patio, stoned on Oxy. I'd laughed as I looked at his monk-bald head, though he was militantly atheist. "But it tastes good," I answered. "Whatever," he shrugged. "Your funeral." Joke ended up on him, though. I'm a free man, whereas he's serving time. Went up to Alaska and somehow got caught with indecent pictures of young folks. Funny - in the four years of our weird rivalry-friendship, I never got a hint of those predilections. Maybe the cold made him crazy.

It's not cold during my journey, thankfully. It's late spring, the warm breath of summer apparent in the weather even as I head further east before turning us north. The rolling hills, plains, and plain greenery of my first two decades plus eventually blur past - a natural landscape I despised when I longed to flee, but which I now appreciate after ten years of the endless beige where I have lived up until the point of the present plague.

A couple days after entering my native region, I'm in a thick, hilly forest, and coming into view is the cabin I spent summers with my family. Following my parents' death, I'd bought out my sister's share, sensing I would want to go back some day. Turns out I needed to come back. This is no palatial hunting lodge - no fancy bed, hot tub, or orientalist room awaits me. It's just a small living room with two bedrooms, a small bathroom, and a tiny kitchenette.

After unlocking the door and letting the dog inside, I take some time to inspect the exterior, The wood's rotting in places and in need of replacement, but I don't have the money or the handyman skills for that right now. Fortunately, the run out back where Hopper does his business still has its metal mesh, if slightly rusted from unseen thunderstorms.

Yes, this will do nicely while I wait out the epidemic.

Once I've unpacked, I sit at the solid, unlovely old oak table with the four chairs and arrange the volumes of "Medieval Nobility" on the table, randomly flipping each one open.

Time for me to pick a family and start reading.