Cinders and Smoke

Last night I dreamt of you. You were pulling me through the smoke, helping me to find my way. I couldn’t see anything before us, the smoke hung thickly in the air, that sick yellowish grey color, almost turning a sort of brown. All I could see was the trace of your back and your hand, holding mine. Suddenly I heard a crash, as if something fell from the sky. And then the screeching began, that horrible noise that pierced our ears as we ran, as fast as we could through the smoke. But no distance could separate us from the screaming, until—

I awake with you, still gone, with only the heart-shaped locket you gave me to remind me of you. I move my finger along the edges, tracing its heart shape, wishing more than anything you were safe, next to me. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you, almost a month ago since you left for food and medicine. The smoke is stronger than ever, forcing us to remain underground longer than expected. With smoke you could be anywhere, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Perhaps the Cinders took you too, your fate with the rest of the people taken, gone but never forgotten. They disarm us with this smoke, take away our sight, our smell, our senses that can protect us from them, enable us to see where they are. Without our senses we have nothing, left to traverse the land blind with no understanding of what’s around us, of what’s coming.

I yearn for the time before when we could see, the time before the great fire began. And then along with the flames, the Cinders, their name to remind us of the ash and ember they come from, born from fire, thriving in smoke. A name given to the imagined monsters— the ones we blame for the things we otherwise can’t understand. Where people vanish to within the smoke is still unknown. Perhaps if these monsters are truly out there we can fight them and win, and people would stop disappearing.

It’s almost been a year since the comet fell to earth and the great fire began. At first we tried to fight it but as our water sources dwindled and the fire still raged, we knew then that it was here to stay. And then the Cinders came, first attacking the firefighters, disappearing them without a trace. That moment was the start of our new lives, one where we became prey to something unknown, something still not understood.

Our people live in colonies, separated only by convenience, by who was closest to us at the time of the fire. We gathered in groups taking shelter where we could, underground mostly, or high in the hills, avoiding the flatlands where the smoke is thickest. The Cinders seem slow, almost useless beings but with the smoke they create they can creep up on us, take us when we least expect it. We only venture from our shelters when we need food and water, our supplies, our lifelines.

A group of people scavenged for pretty much all the remaining resources, hoarding all the supplies, controlling them. Without money, all we have are what we call our treasures, things of the most value to us that we can bargain with. You see, the people who control the resources are greedy— they only need what we love most to make them happy. I guess it makes them feel like they’ve won somehow, are doing better than everyone else at surviving if they have what matters most. They feed off of what we value, off what makes us happy. I only ever knew outliers to think this way, to want to inflict such pain, thieves, murderers. There were so few when the air was clear I practically thought them myths. But now they’ve somehow found each other, band together to control us.

You left to get us more food and medicine taking with you a geode you had mined yourself. How dangerous it was for you to get but we needed something to barter with. We only have natural resources now, organic treasures, and even so our pile is dwindling, ever since you left and never returned. It’s on this day, the 29th one since you’ve gone that I must go and get our supplies, bring you back. Our colony is counting on us, we the most able bodied to do the work to sustain us all.

I pocket a rock and begin to pack my things, stopping to finger again the locket you gave me, the only piece of you left, the heart to remind me how much you love me of how much I love you. It’s this talisman that keeps me sane, that gives me the confidence to carry on in this world, to traverse the smoke filled flatlands and face the Cinders out there. I carry you with me for protection and for guidance, I don’t think I’d be here without you. Once I have what our people need I will come look for you and I will hopefully find you. I feel it in my bones that you are still alive, still out there though my fear does creep in and whisper stories of your death. But I can’t let that get to me, not now, not while I’m venturing out there.

I say my goodbyes and head for the cave of goods, moving quickly, with my mask and goggles protecting me from the smoke. We have our feelers to guide us, our long sticks we’ve fashioned to help us see, or rather to feel around for the mass of the Cinders bodies. If we know one’s with us at least their slow enough to give us some time to run. But it can be so pointless you see without our sight or smell we often don’t know what we’re running towards. Luckily we were able to create a path before the smoke got too bad, while we still had sight.

I walk along the designated path for what feels like hours, my feeler in front of me only moving back and forth back and forth, trying to sense if anything is out there. It’s eerily quiet, there are no birds or insects anymore, they can’t survive the smoke. Perhaps they left here and went somewhere else, somewhere better, we don’t know what’s out there yet. The colony of communicators is working on that, we leave the task to find others to them. But I can’t think of this now, I must stay focused on the task at hand.

Suddenly I hear a rustling, a slow moving crunching coming from just beyond my left. It’s faint but the sound is growing louder, coming to me. With my feeler out directly in front of me I run, the path crunching beneath me. I run and run until I smack right into the door to the cave, the cave where I hope to find you, where the resources are kept. I knock loudly until I’m banging on the door over and over again until FINALLY an answer, the rustling just beyond the path now. I fall into the cave landing on my knees

“SHUT THE DOOR BEHIND ME, THE CINDERS ARE COMING!!”

With a moment to catch my breath I make my way to my feet again, looking around to see if I can see you. Luckily our shelters protect us from the smoke, it is here we have sight, have smell with what little smoke gets inside dissipating not long after it enters.

I make my way to face Clara, the greediest of them all who controls what’s taken in exchange for what’s needed. My hands begin to shake as I approach, my throat turning dry.

“I’m looking for Emily, my wife”

I blurt out before I can even think it. My palms coated with sweat as I clench my fists to stop my hands from shaking.

“I see, I’ve been expecting you”

“Where is she, I demand to know if she’s okay”

I try to sound assertive, to show my strength, what little bravery I have left but it’s no use she can see right through me. With a wry smile Clara reaches into her pocket and places a geode before me, the one you took before you left.

“She’s here, alive. We were keeping her until we’re given something better. You see we’re sick of these rocks, we’ve grown a collection and we’re tired of them. They are no longer precious we need something more.”

“But what more could we give you, we have almost nothing left”

My voice is calm and steady. I begin to rack my brain with what I packed, seeing if something, anything could be of use to them.

“These are our most precious items I— I don’t know what else to give”

She pauses for a moment studying me, taking a deep inhale then pointing as she sighs.

“There— that necklace! That’s just what we need”

I immediately grab my locket, tucking it beneath my shirt. No, not this, anything but this. I had gone so long hiding it, never once letting it show. I must have forgotten somehow this last time, needing the memory of you more to carry me to see her, to get you back.

Tears begin to well in my eyes and I glue my hands to my sides— she can’t see that I’m crying or else it will give away the value of it, my necklace and she’ll know how much it means to me.

“But this is just a necklace it means nothing” I begin to ramble with how useless it is, just an accessory it brings me no happiness just a thing I’ve kept since before the smoke, before the Cinders.

Clara pauses, surely thinking about something, contemplating what I’ve just said. But as she waits a tear that I cannot hide falls, giving me and my treasure away. Without hesitation she rips it from my neck clutching onto it tightly. The tears start falling freely now, soaking my shirt.

“Please, give me my wife back and, and this too”

I hand over a list of the food and medicine we need my hands still shaking.

She hands me everything I asked for but you’re still nowhere to be found.

“We let her go just yesterday but we took her feeler in exchange for her freedom. If she hasn’t returned by now your guess is as good as mine…”

My heart drops, you’re out there and I need to find you but how, how can I bare it without my locket, my talisman to keep me safe, my good luck charm. Without it I doubt I can.

I grab my things and put them in my pack, trying to mentally prep for the journey ahead, for finding you. I’m crying harder now, crying as they push me out of the cave door and back into the smoke. I try to catch my bearings, to mentally prepare but it’s no use. I crouch instead along the outside of the door, sinking down to the ground my feeler sticking straight out. And as I sit something jabs me in my leg, I reach in my pocket to see what it is and then I feel it, the piece of you I still have left. The last rock you found. I clutch my hand around it and let out a laugh— I still have a part of you with me. A huge laugh comes out of me now, my belly aching, you’re not lost at all but right here with me, always. With the rock in hand I slowly get up planting my feet on the ground.

“I’ll find you. I promise” I whisper and lead myself not along the path that leads home but just beyond it, at the fork, hoping this is the where you went instead.