blake wakes up in a strange new land. where is kendra? there is a swimming pool outside.. or is it a painting of one? yesterday, he travelled for hundreds of miles (or it seemed) in a basket-woven purse to get here. the city was a wasteland, the morning-after of a reluctant street party, with thousands of commuters forced on the street, to walk and in many cases to spend the night, with strangers and the last cold beers. cars were gridlocked, and drivers, too, descended upon the street. but by friday morning, the confusion and clutter had eased into a silence and emptiness. neighbors whispered on the sidewalks, and foraged the lone open eateries for food. it was in this atmosphere that blake made his way out of the ninth story, down a stairwell that was pitch-black, walked from the east side to the west side of the city, then walked forty two blocks to the bus station. it was 96 degrees outside.
when he finally reached port authority, the bus station was shut down, dark and without electricity. outside, the buses parked in no particular order and mobs of crowds awaited to embark, pushing and shoving, frustrated, angry, tired. blake had the distinct advantage of being little and mobile. he crept through the crowds and found a bus. he found a seat, but the bus did not move. he didn't mind. he watched outside from the window, watched the chaos unraveling.
finally, the bus took off. She put him in her basket-woven purse so he would not fall off, and placed the purse on her lap. He stuck his head out the purse, though, so he could still see and nibble on the carrots she had brought along.