Her Journey

She opens her eyes and sees the sun bright through the broken boards of the attic, sitting up basking in the warmth for a few minutes before looking around and gathering her stuff. Now she inhales the rotting wood smell mixed with old cobwebs and rodent waste. She becomes aware of her reality. It has been a decade since everything happened, three years since she lost her mother, and a little less than two years since her dad either left or could not make it back. She did her routine of checking supplies and realized that she would need to make a run. Without planning, it would have to be solo. This sometimes could be favorable, but it was better not to overthink. Getting a list together, she knows alone she must consider weight and movement. She wishes she had time to plan to go to the camp and do this properly but going to camp, in itself, needed favors. This attic, this life, alone is better than camp and those greasy smells and the creepy treatment of "I will protect you, hun." No, alone is always better, and don't ever get caught two, rules she has to live by.

She takes the back ways, cut into the dying overgrowth, off the main roadways. The camo trucks driving by might be on the road today. She never knows when or if they will carry supplies to the camps or pick up those who disappear. In the past, the animals would stay away, but now hunger drives them to attack. Her father taught her about sand refrigeration. She had scattered the terracotta pots they had used and realized the two years he had been missing marks her 18th birthday. She wonders if the camo trucks got him. What if they did? What did they do with him then?

Of course, what do they do with all the people they take. The rumors must be worse than what happens. People's imaginations run away with them. It truly shows the nature of a person when they go off the rails with these wild ideas. She keeps thinking, one day, I will follow the truck and see. Still, then you don't know your hike time. Seeing the teracota pots that her and her dad had scattered around when he taught her about sand refrigeration she knew it was time to look for a small animal to hunt. She had speared a small rabbit. Her dad warned her that after dark, animals have the advantage. The slow or the weak might be easy to take down. Put some meat in a pot and cover it with some cloth, dig a hole in the sand and bury a covered pot. Take some meat, roll it up in the fabric, making sure to cut up ,and drag the rest around to attract some bigger wildlife to her hunting ground and keeping her hunting area fresh with meat. She wonders if this is normal or if many people have survival skills.

She wonders what her parent's childhoods were like as she sits to enjoy a light bite of food and drink. She refills her canteen in the spring. She had stopped at the halfway point to the town. She would be there by nightfall, gather stuff, and head back tomorrow, stopping here to dig up the meat to take back to the house. She might explore a different attic since she had gone through all the treasures in that attic, and maybe a new attic would prove to have new mysteries. She was lost in her thoughts when nearby sounds snaped her back " What is that?" she thought. She hoped it was an animal. She had meat. If it were hungry, she could feed it. She pulled herself close to a tree and noticed two men in camo pants and white shirts relieving themselves in the brush. She had wandered off the trail close to the road. They were laughing about deciding only to drop off half the rations they controlled to the people in the camp. "These people were cruel humans.", she had thought. She had decided she was anything but human growing up in this world with people showing the worst parts of themselves. She had seen the hate, the cruelty, or the lack of anything kind or helpful. She wondered if there ever was a time or place that the world was safe and happy. She made her way back to the path when she realized the men had left, and she knows this is just one more reason not to go to the camp. She read books about all kinds of subjects. She knows that people dreamed of a peaceful calm world of unity, but she is sure it was never achieved. She looks up and notices the sunlight fading to orange and crimson. She should be reaching the town in about 15 minutes she sees the lights of the streets. She moves like a well oil machine just working through its route, staying close enough to the streets to stay in the light but enough in the shadows to not be spotted. She goes in, wanders through to the warehouse. At this point, everyone knows they have cleaned the town and organized the town's resources here. She knew this place by heart now. She goes around and back, grabs the first thing on her list, and the second working her way through the warehouse. In camp, you know who to ask to get special stuff. Her dad had shown her. The idea of turning 18 and being alone had been the furthest thing from her mind. Her mom tried to ask for a bottle of something special for her father, she thinks it was their anniversary, but things went wrong. They took her mom instead. Close to her sixteenth birthday, her dad was gone, never to return.

Having heard the men earlier, the idea that they decided not to feed people hit her pretty hard. She wanted something special because they took everything special from her. This world destroyed everything that could be special for her. They even destroyed the small things, life with friends, school birthday parties driving, and all those things in the photos she had seen in all those attics. She had to go to that place. She deserved something special, and damn it, she was going to get it. Determination was on her side. She had only been there once, but she could find it. She could not afford to lose focus; this was not her usual run anymore. She went under the shelves spotting the security cages. She knew which way to go, so keeping a watch for feet and counting, she gets the timing down. When she was ready, a guard went by. She crawled forward, wiggling to the next set of shelves. She had not seen a guard and quickly moved again. Her brain screamed with fear as she exhaled slowly to calm her racing heart. She was almost there, one more set of shelves, and she would be at the cage of special items. She had no idea of all the things that were considered special.

As she made it to the last set of shelves, she spotted something, her father's boots. As she wiggled up, the smell of death was everywhere these days, so no one would notice. Apparently, he got in a jam. The pool of blood on the floor was concealed by boxes not put on the shelves. The blood had congealed to his pants. She wonders how long ago he had died. She took a deep breath and knew she had to search his body. She repeated in her head, "survive, survive, survive." She pulled out his pockets and looked in his boots. She looked in all the places her dad kept his knives and med-packs. She had searched systematically until she found a box. She had discovered a beautiful red velvet box. She had seen some moth-eaten ones in attics, but this one was new. She made her way back without any close calls because it was close to sunrise, and the guard's shifts were changing. She had grabbed her backpack, then carefully made her way out of the compound. When she was clear, she had off at a run, full of energy and a sense of mystery. She moved quickly but still carefully, trying to not make any mistakes. This box had her mind racing.

She had run all the way back without remembering to eat lunch or stop and get the meat she had buried. She did not care because the box consumed her thoughts. She thought, "it must contain something wonderful for her father to risk so much for something so little." She stopped before she opened it and decided to eat, staring at that little box with every bite. She had lit a candle in the far corner of the attic, well away from the window. If anybody was to pass by, they would not see the light. She opened the box. It creaked as most new jewelry boxes do, and she sees a glimpse of shine and pulls out a silver heart-shaped locket. The little picture she has of her mom fits it. She put the photo in and went to sleep. The following day when she woke, instead of her morning ritual, she looked at the gift her father had lost his life for. He risked his life for a heart-shaped locket so his heart could always be close to hers. Now 28, looking back, she folds her fingers around that locket and knows she can free them and hopefully one day find her mom in the process.