A Reason To Go On

I jolted awake from a fitful sleep. Nightmares have been plaguing me lately, more than usual. I rubbed the sleep and sweat from my face as I felt around for my lantern, somehow I managed to knock it away from next to me in my sleep. Turning the knob, it barely gave off any light. Crap. Batteries were a rare luxury and it would be a freaking miracle if I managed to find any while out scavenging, I was even lucky I managed to find the lantern. I hissed as my body cramped and popped as I stood up, I had to get resources and it was always safer, and cooler, to start before the wretched sun rose.

After rolling up my tattered sleeping bag and stuffing my few possessions in an old backpack I found, I wrapped my makeshift bandanna from some torn cloth around my face and donned my scratched up goggles. Next to my lantern and little heart-shaped locket I have, my goggles were in the top three of my greatest treasures. Even if I did find them floating down a ditch with sewage. Eye protection floating in unknown goopy water over piercing sunlight and constant harsh winds and sand was a no brainer.

Stepping out of my makeshift shelter, I surveyed the area around me. Nothings really changed after these past two years. I guess I sometimes wake up and half expect something different to greet me. Like my family, or the smell of eggs and bacon my husband cooked on Sundays. His smiling face, the way he hugged me from behind, our son making faces at us for being "icky". It's all memories now. I guess I was just too stubborn to die. I mean, I'm not really ready to die, just yet.

Clutching onto the heart-shaped locket around my neck, I didn't even bother taking down the raggedy sheet that I used for shelter. Let it be someone else's blessing. Before the war, the bombs... Before the whole world going to shit, this used to be a thriving city in the middle of Texas. Now it's just sad, dilapidated buildings and a barren wasteland of what once was. My goal was to make it North, not only to find a reason to keep going on the way there, but for my father. He was always a doomsday nut growing up, so there was a small speck of hope in me that he might be alive. Someone who I love and cares for me might still be alive.

Stopping frequently to look into run down buildings for water and supplies, it's been an achingly long trip. There's usually nothing on the shelves, but it doesn't hurt to double check. I need all the water I can get, the summer months are blistering. I would have started this journey sooner, but it was especially tough to come to grips with this new reality, along with the riots and looting wreaking havoc in the first several months, rebels attacking the few people who come together to try to start a new life in small villages, made things so much worse. Until I decided to do this crazy journey, I mainly hid in basements and ran down parking garages, only leaving when necessary. A mixture of fear and a concrete column collapsing on top of me one night nearly did me in and set me back while I healed. I try to ignore the pain. There isn't hospitals like there used to be; just broken husks of buildings, and I'm no doctor. It was painstakingly hard to mend my broken bones.

After searching buildings for hours, all I had to show for it was some canned beans and one single packet of flavored powder for water. Exasperated, I looked up at the sun which was slowly climbing the sky. A mix of smog and dirt covered what was once blue skies, giving it a grey-orange color. The wind never helped with the heat. It itself was hot and painful, throwing dirt and derbies. Other people wouldn't dare be out right now, the constant windstorms and heat are brutal.

I've chosen this trip, across broken bones of buildings and ruins of what once was. You probably think I'm crazy, I mean, it is a little crazy. I could always find a small village, safe from rebels, safe from the elements of our world crumbling apart around us. It's our own fault and we must deal with the consequences. I just want to find someone, or something worth living for as I journey North.

I hold my hand above my eyes and peer at the setting sun through scratched goggles and sigh. Tugging on the heart-shaped locket around my neck, I open it and stare at the tiny family picture safely stowed in it. Tears prick my eyes as I caress it with my thumb, closing it I place it back at it's home near my heart and march on. Watching as what used to be passes by, I will go on, for the thought, the spark of hope, that someone is out there missing me in this hell and needs me. I will go on for my family. For my son. They will be my reason to go on in this dilapidated, barren world.