Drought

Drought

By Robert Woods

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. The window was encrusted with dirt and old white cracked paint covering it’s rotten wooden frame. It the heat of the day she could see out for a brief moment, when the sun was in the East. Today the small framed woman sat on the edge of her ragged mattress carelessly tossed in the floor, waiting anxiously for her fleeting seconds of observing the world outside. A world she has never seen. Not really anyway. Living in tunnels and bunkers for most of her life, she had never felt the grass beneath her feet or breathed in the salty ocean air. Her red hair a prized commodity. She was mechandice.

The sun beams that obscured her view lifted, her view of the outside came into focus. There was the plain sand dunes rolling across the horizon, just like they did everyday. Something was different this day. Today she could see smeone. A lone figure stumbling through the dessert. Unsure if it was a man or a woman, if didn't matter, it could be her one chance. Her one chance to live.

Riley walked in the burning sand of the worldwide desert. A dystopia formed by years of drought and toxic water systems brought on by man-made climate change. His weathered face was covered in flaky white skin peeling off in large slabs. Sweat zig-zagged down his cheeks, he tried to catch each salty drop with his tongue before it soaked into his thick brown beard. At least he still had sweat. The sand under his feet was an inferno that he could feel burning through his brown leather boots. He could feel the suns intense heat through his tattered black tunic, his back was on fire. The tunic hood was pulled over his head, trying to hide his face from the brutal sun beaming down. He was only twenty-four years old, but his sun-dried face looked much older. The water supply he carried with him had long been gone and every ounce of his being wanted to just lay down and die. One thing kept him going. The only thing that kept him going. Revenge. Finding trustworthy people had become much harder than he could have ever imagined. He fould this out the hard way. Everything he had left in this seemingly meaningless world was taken from him. Only the burning fire of revenge kept him alive. Topping the crest of a massive sand dune he looked down into a sandy wave filled chasm to see a lone wooden structure. The building sat conspicuously alone in the middle of this hell hole. The shack was not large and had a chimney made of a scrap metal pipe and had long streaks of white smoke billowing out.

Why would anyone have a fire in this heat. Maybe they have food and water. Or mayber it was the one he was looking for.

The thought of food was alright, but the thought of water was insatiable. Riley wasn’t scared at this point, even though, since the drought, he had seen the raiders plunder and kill all around him. As the water had become even more scarce the atrocities committed got much worse, with increasing mobs of violent people. Without mercy people without water, dying, desperate, committed horrendous horrors upon every society, even resorting to cannibalism, or at least he had heard that story too. He had witnessed some of these horrible deeds committed on people, enough to be terrified but the idea that just maybe he could find water, just a drink of water, outweighed the fear of death and his endless quest for revenge.

He could hear music being played, coming from inside the strange shack. It sounded like a guitar playing some old forgotten hillbilly song. After several minutes of staring blankly and listening to the music he decided what to do, what he had to do. He descended the slope, dragging his feet as he advanced, too weak to lift them all the way out of deep sand. His small backpack felt like it weighed a ton.

The sand hardened a bit as he approached, making it easier to walk. He could see that the building was of low quality, haphazardly slapped together with old, mismatched boards of different colors and length, gathered from who knows where. The front door was nothing but a piece of plywood with a small chunk of two by four nailed to it for a handle. Next to the door he noticed a message scribbled on the wall, “Come on in”, was written in sloppy red handwriting. He also noticed the dried bones of what most likely was a dog, a black collar still around the poor pooch’s neck.

Knowing the risks, knowing the possibility of being killed or even, God forbid, eaten, Riley had to go in, he had no other choice. He hesitated for just one moment then pulled the door handle. He looked back into the sky one last time. He could see the strange shiny object that had been there since this all started. It was like a star in the daylight, but it moved slowly across the sky.

The flimsy plywood made a grating sound as it slid across the sand outside. His eyes had to adjust to the darker room, he couldn’t see much at first, just the outlines of two people that appeared to be sitting at a table. The interior looked larger that he had expected. As his pupils adjusted for the light, the details of the room began to come into focus, it looked like a makeshift bar. There was a tall man standing behind a long counter. behid the counter was a heavy well made door that was strangly out of place in this poorly constructed place. The door had a small rectgangualr opening near the top. The man had thick, greasy, gray hair and a dirty mustache with an unkept beard. He stared at Riley expressionless. He wore a long tan trench coat, stained with dirty sweat, and a filthy black top hat. On the counter sat a bottle of whiskey and some assorted, foggy drinking glasses of various sizes. Behind him was a fire burned in a homemade iron stove with a large cast iron pot hanging over it. Riley’s eyes, now fully adjusted to the darker enviornment, could see to his left a small table where two men were seated. It appeared they were engaged in a card game of some sort. One man, with his back to the wall, had a long black coat and a large black, wide brimmed hat. He was surprisingly clean. The man never looked up from his cards.

The other was a small, framed man wearing tattered, ragged clothes, he did look up with a friendly smile. The smaller man wore worn out overalls and had messy, dark hair. Riley noticed there was several small shot glasses of water on the table, they must have been using water to bet with. There was one more person to the right, in the corner sitting on a tiny stool made from a stump. It was a woman slowly strumming a guitar. She was young but weathered. He faces was tanned dark, and her eyes sunk way back into her head. She wore a long dirty white dress and a brown hat that covered most of her hair with just a piece of brown hair sticking out the side. She smiled as she sang and revealed one large tooth on top of the otherwise empty hole.

"Zeke talks to aliens, Zeke talks to aliens. Not sure where Zekies been, not sure if they're his friends, but Zeke talks to aliens." She sang softly. Surprisingly beautifully.

“This is my place.” The man behind the counter suddenly spoke. His voice was dry and crackled. “No weapons allowed inside.”

Riley slowly walked up to the bar, “I only have a pocketknife.”

The bar patrons all began to laugh slightly.

“That aint no weapon boy.” The tall man said looking at the little pocket knife Riley presented. “Names Jake. That’s marge my wife, the little feller is Jimbo and the man in the black is my partner Zeke. Come on in and get you a drink.”

“I appreciate it.” Riley said with some relief.

He walked up to the counter and pulled his hood back. It was slightly cooler in here and it felt heavenly on his face.

“What exactly do you have to drink?”

Jake looked at him with a grin, “That all depends on what you got to offer.”

“I don’t have much.” Riley replied pulling off his small pack and laying it on the counter.

“Just let me take a look!” Jake said and quickly turned the pack around sliding it slowly over so he could look inside. He flipped the flap back and uncinched the strings holding it closed. Never taking his eyes off Riley.

Jake reached into the bag and pulled something out. He could see it coming out, his eyes widened, “You got to be kidding me boy?” he said with a large grin revealing his yellow and black teeth.

Then suddenly Jimbo began shouting at Zeke in a squeaky high-pitched voice, “You Fucking cheat! I saw you pull that card out. You’re a lousy cheat!” He stood up pointing at Zeke.

Riley turned and looked at the two men. Zeke looked up from his cards. He had dark beady eyes and a clean-shaven expressionless face. His skin looked properly washed. It appeared like he wasn’t in an apocalyptic drought, he looked like he had just come from home with a fresh shower.

“Now Jimbo, I don’t think you really mean that.” Zeke spoke in a smooth calm voice.

“I seen it you son of a bitch! I knew you was a cheat!”

Zeke’s face turned angry, and he pushed back away from the table. He slowly stood and began to take off his long black coat. Jimbo’s expression quickly turned from anger to fear.

“Oh, hey man I’m sorry, I…I was just upset, you won fair and square.” Jimbo said, while holding his hand out to show no ill will. He was scared of Zeke, very scared.

Riley looked on anxiously, while Marge continued to strum the guitar like it was just a normal day. Playing an old country rhythm. Jake didn’t seem to care either as he just stood watching with a slight grin. Riley looked around quickly and noticed a set of emerald green eyes peeping out from the slot in the heavy door behind the bar. They seemed to be looking directly at him.

Zeke dropped his coat to the floor revealing a strange device he wore on his back. It was a round clear container about 2 feet long attached to a metal base. It had a strange green glow. The base looked like it was a motor or pump with strange markings resembling hieroglyphs. There were two long clear hoses curled up and attached to each side of the container. The other end of the hoses had pointy metal tips that resembled dagger blades with more strange markings etched on them. They were about eight inches long, attached to his belt on each hip. He looked like a gunslinger in the old west.

“Now Zeke hold on just one damn minute!” Jimbo’s high-pitched voice climbed even higher. He stood up holding both arms out in front of him. “Just wait one gosh darn second. You know me Zeke!”

Riley, not sure what was going on, did not get scared. He could sense and almost feel the fear coming from the little man who trembled uncontrollably. He had seen the device on Zeke’s back, and he knew what it was.

“Now Jimbo, you know business has been slow. You know sometimes the weak just, well...must be preyed upon. It's just the way of nature, survival of the fittest and all that. You are weak.” Zeke explained while he pulled the spears from each hip. The pointy barbed spear tips each dripped with some strange green liquid. He slid them onto metal slots he attached on his forearms, they click into place.

“You know it's just the way it’s got to be Jimbo.” Jake said, from behind the counter. You owe us a lot of water.

“Yip, just the way it’s gotta be!” Marge repeated without missing a note of her little song.

Jimbo suddenly ran for the door. Zeke turned and shook his head at the feeble attempt to escape then fired the large prongs from both arms. The hoses quickly unravel as the projectiles jetted swiftly to its target. They sliced through the overalls like butter and pierced the skin of Jimbo’s back.

Jimbo grimaced in pain at first and was quickly paralyzed with the tentacles protruding from his back. The machine on Zekes back began to hum and glow neon green. Jimbo’s face appeared in excruciating pain; tears formed in his eyes. The exsiccation process had begun.

Riley reamained still.

Zeke looked at him and with a slow smile and said, in a deep sadistic voice, “Wait your turn.”

After a few seconds of the machine vibrating and humming, water began to slowly move up the tubes, into the clear tank on Zeke’s back. Not blood, not lymph or bile but water. Jimbo was in intense pain and could not run away, he just stood there with tears in his eyes. Not realizing the talons from the machine were laced with a paralytic, he could never run away, he was frozen in place. The tears then quickly dried up as his skin shrank around his bones and he was slowly dehydrated. His eyes closed and his cheeks sunk into his face, you could now see his bones with the skin stretched over them like dried leather. His clothes just dangled, like they were on hangers. The tank on Zekes back was nearly full of water, water extracted from Jimbo. The tubes retracted and Jimbo’s lifeless dehydrated body collapsed and rattled to the floor. Every molecule of water was gone.

Silence came over the room. “WELL!” Zeke’s calm voice broke the silence, “Now sir, you were asking, what do we have to drink? The answer is clean water, extra fresh.”

Jake turned his attention back to Rileys bag. he looked down, it was gone. Riley stood smiling at him holding a large revolver. It looked like a relic from the 19th century. "Looking for this."

"Take it easy kid, take it easy." Jake said. no need to get all crazy. Jimbo had it coming! He owed us a lot of money.

The water hoses, from Zekes water extractor, retracted. He reattached his blood stained prongs. Riley cocked the pistol. "Dont do it!" He said pointing the gun at Zeke.

A voice from behind the door, soft and crackled spoke,"Do it stranger. Shoot all them sons of bitches!"

Jake slapped the door, "You'd shut up if you knew what was good for ya!"

Zeke wasted no time, Riley turned slightly looking at Jake, so he fired of the daggers. Riley heard the sound and the prongs bounced off. Zekes eyes widened in shock. Riley stepped on the prongs so they couldnt retract. "You know a piece of shit, with a device just like that one, killed, no drained my wife and kids right in front of my eyes. Ive been looking for him ever since." He pulled open his shirt and revealed a kevlar vest. "Ive been wearing this hot ass vest for 2 years, waiting for this moment. Now youre going to tell me where you got that thing."

Riley looked at Jake, "You, open that door."

"Now thats my property mister. Bought her fair and square 2 weeks ago!" Jake said.

"People are not property where I come from, besides, dead people cant own things, if you get what i'm saying."

Jake grunted, then slide the large wooden bolt unlocking the door. THe door immediatly flew open. Jake backpeddled scared of what was going to come out. A small girl with long red hair, stepped out. she had the look of pute hatred on her face. she screamed, "ahhhhh!." She moved with lightning reflexes to the bar grabbing a large butcher knife from behind the bar. Continuing in a fluid motion she dove through the air, towards Jake. Her back was arched and she held the knife in both ands drawn way back behind her head. She came down plunging the knife into Jakes chest, it piercwd his sternum and was buiried to the hilt. Jake trieed to scream but could only gurgle up bloody bubbles and he fell to the floor onto his back still blowing out bloody sputum.

Zeke quickly retracted the hoses and and replaced his dagger spears, Riley turned and fired this time. a firey blast from the barel sent the bullet strait into his forehead. He still stairing for a few seconds while a green trickle of blood ran down his face from the wound. He then fell over.

Marge started screaming like a banshee. Riley pointed the gun at her. She dropped off stool and ran at him with her gutar held like a club, Riley was too quick and he clacked her in the head with the butt of his gun knocking her out cold.