two.

The trip began as innocent as it could- there were absolutely no cars on the road so we made pretty good time; Church estimated that we will be in Kampala by noon tomorrow. We were all exhausted, so most of us tried to sleep so that we wouldn't have to look at the desolate villages that we passed. Some Ugandans that had been bitten stumbled onto the road and tried to claw at the car, effectively scaring the daylights out of us. Those were the bad times.

The good times were few, but they were special. Those were the times when all the talk was light-hearted, when both vans would pull over just to check on each other, when Connor fell asleep on my shoulder, un-protestant when I slung an arm around his neck. Elder Church winked at me from the rearview mirror. I chuckled lightly, hoping not to attract too much attention to my actions. Unfortunately, 'under the radar' isn't in Church's vocabulary.

"Guys, look at Elder Price and Elder McKinley!" He cooed from the wheel. Almost everyone's heads turned towards us. I felt a blush crawling up onto my face.

"Aww, you guys are so cute!" Elder Thomas laughed. Everyone began laughing. I tried to shush them ('you guys, he's sleeping!'), but no no avail. I barely managed to get my arm back to my side before Connor woke up.

"What's so funny?" He asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Nabulungi giggled and reached back to touch his knee.

"Did you know that Elder Price is as sweet as sugar?" She asked.

"Well duh," Connor rolled his eyes, "anyone could have told you that." He looked over at me sheepishly. I gave a tiny four-fingered wave. Elder Cunningham, or Arnold, as he insisted we all call him, raised an eyebrow above his glasses. I leaned forward and gave him a whack on the shoulder.

Most of the drive was spent in silence, separated by short bursts of conversation. I worried a little bit about the other van and how they were doing. Once the sun finally went down we pulled over to make sleeping arrangements. Gotswana would sleep at the wheel, Church and Thomas shared the passenger seat (they curled into each other like kittens. Maybe I should laugh at them.), Arnold and Naba were in the middle with Mafala (he still didn't completely trust Arnold), which left Connor and I in the back. It was no trouble getting to sleep. It was staying asleep that was the hard part.

I don't even know how late it was- you can never be too sure in Africa- when something ramming into my side woke me up. I opened my eyes and squinted into the pale moonlight across the seat. Connor was writhing around, face contorted into an expression of true terror and pain. I grabbed him by his shoulder; this had become standard procedure. He shot up like a bullet, sweaty and panting.

"Connor?" I asked, trying to relieve him of his dream and bring him back to me.

"K- Kevin?" He responded, grasping blindly at my shirt with his sweaty palms. I pulled him into me and held him as he shook. I wanted to ask what had happened but I knew better. I had done that once and gotten a talking-to from Thomas the next day. He explained that Connor had Hell dreams every night. He truly believed he was damned for being gay. I never asked again. He stopped shaking and I pulled him into a comfortable position where we could fall asleep together.

By the time I woke up, the sun was high in the sky. I heard people laughing and knew that it was about Connor and I snuggling, but I was too comfortable to move. I pretended to be asleep until he woke up and got off of me. That was when I sat up.

"Did you two have a good sleep?" Gotswana teased. I rolled my eyes. I saw Connor's eyes go downcast, embarrassed. Because we were still the only ones in the back seat, I reached over and laced our fingers together to reassure him. He looked at me and gave a weak smile.

"Oh, so you're not going to comment on Poptarts and Church's cuddlefest?" I defended, using Thomas' classic nickname, trying to bring back some illusion of normalcy. "Not to mention the fact that they are still sitting in the same chair." There was a round of giggles. Poptarts stuck his tongue out at me playfully.

The weight of the situation quieted us when we stopped the car. The road was blocked by two bodies.

"What should we do?" Gotswana asked.

"I'll take care of it," Mafala sighed, "looks like they're dead anyways." He got out of the car, much to Nabulungi's protest, and dragged the bodies out of the road. He was right, they really appeared to be dead. It was only when we began driving away that they re-animated, trying to catch up with us.

For about fifteen minutes, I communicated with Schrader, who was in the passenger's seat of the van behind us, through hand motions. He made me understand that they were all doing okay and couldn't wait to get to Kampala.

We got there about mid-afternoon. It was abandoned, with the exception of the occasional sick person, throwing themselves at the windows of the vans in the hopes that the glass would break and they would get to feast on our flesh.

Much to our dismay, there was no relief effort. No safe camp. It was just sick people and death. There were so many of them. With Gotswana driving the whole place seemed like a blur. Gotswana refused to stop, and no one questioned him- we all knew that if we did, the vans would be overtaken by the sick in a matter of moments. There was no safety here. Nabulungi burst into tears.

We floored it to Juba, all saddened and disappointed, and pulled into the thick brush at the side of the road to sleep. We figured the bushes were thick enough to keep us safe. Everyone was so relieved to see each other. The happiness was tangible. But, as always, the circumstances of our relief outweighed our happiness.

Zelder and Michaels found a travel pack in their van- a map, some walkie-talkies, some batteries, a radio, and a compass. We turned on the radio, just for kicks. As we suspected, nothing but static. The walkie-talkies were in good working order, so we used those to keep in contact between vans. We made a small bonfire and heated up some canned ravioli for supper. The ravioli was disgusting, but it was the best time I'd had in a while. We sat on blankets on the ground and ate, keeping the mood light with songs and jokes. Connor didn't even protest when I slipped my arm around his waist. It felt like the key, and I knew, without a doubt, that this was the way forward.

When it came time time to turn in, we got into our sleeping spots. Connor was reluctant, but I eventually convinced him into a snuggle night again. Once he was beside me, I held onto him for dear life.

I think I love him.