Unfinished story fragment below. Will be built-out some time later.
"Father, why are we going to this place?"
Jack looked over at his son. Still a boy, but not much longer, so he held his tongue. "He remembers the world the way it was, before it all fell into ruin."
"So he will know?"
"I hope so, son." Jack turned his gaze to his wife, the boy's mother, as she nursed his little daughter on the other end of the table. "If he can't answer the question, then we face great peril."
His wife looked up at him. "Go on, both of you. My father's name alone will keep them at bay. None dare touch one of Ken's daughters."
Or his grandsons. Jack thought, noticing his son's resembling to the Eater of the Dead that was his father-in-law.
Jack nodded, understanding the risk. He pointed at the gun rack, and his son got up to get a pair from them. One the boy slung over his shoulder, and the other the boy handed to Jack. A third remained, meant for his wife's use.
"Show him the way, Jack." she said, "And son, use all your senses to memorize the path."
The boy nodded. Jacked checked his rifle, and looked on as the boy followed his father's example, and then they left their humble home in the wilderness.
I have no idea what to do with this. I'm posting it here as much for your amusement as I am to just get it out of my head so I can turn back to The Burning of Hugo. If you have anything to suggest, you know what to do: comment below.