(before Act 3)

We’ve been through the mill, you and me. I’m tired but we’re almost there. If you listen you can hear the Neuse — it can’t be far now. You, my best possum and fast friend, have well proven yourself no parlor soldier. We’ll make it yet.

The two we’ve left behind, well, they were not North Carolina’s finest but they were our brothers, and if you want me to opine on the matter, I’d say they would want us to march into New Bern like a pair of hard cases and grab the first fancy girls we could find. Get drunk as imbeciles in their memory and f–k like rabbits. Shall we insult the last wishes of our gallant fallen? No, we shall not. Another mile then.

We are close. I can smell the river. Brother, we have only to put one foot in front of the other. God has cleared our path. What could possibly stop us now?

The Last Mile