A green tinted haze filled the atmosphere and blotted out the normally beautiful clear blue sky. I frowned as I peered up then rubbed my eyes, looked down at my shoes and kept walking down the dry riverbed. Everything felt sticky and dirty.

We didn’t know where we were going, only that we had to go. So we walked in a long meandering line. Somehow, I’d been silently elected the “leader” and this long line of people were my “followers.”

I turned to look at them again. There were so many of them. What was I going to do with them when I got where ever it was we should be? We were filled with hope, that much I knew, because we had survived something.

I could see a great city rising up beyond the bridge. Another group were trudging our way. Their will seemingly lost in the swag of their shoulders. We should meet just under the overpass.

I paused only momentarily and raised my chin in acknowledgement of their “leader” and he to me. As we passed, murmurs stirred both crowds, “Are we there yet?”