Jo’s Find

Ash filtered through the air from the scorched sky. The land for miles was a wasteland. Detritus of a forgotten word lay so thick you could not see the earth. Jo’s boots crunched thoughtlessly over forgotten objects. A grandfather clock with a shattered face, a solitary slender arm, still circling. A testament to the craftsmanship of its creator. A porcelain doll now limb-less, it’s unblinking stare witness to untold horrors. Jo marched on, ignorant to the memories being ground underfoot. Jo was looking for items useful now. What good was a clock in a land devoid of time? There was only the endless grey day now, the monotony broken only by the torrential acid rains. Jo bent double to examine a small shovel. Now this could be useful. Picking up the dusty shovel at the same time as dropping her pack, Jo didn’t notice at first she was unearthing a gravesite.

A skeletal hand protruded from the rubbish pile. Discarded there, no doubt, during one of the cleansing raids. Jo stilled. It wasn’t a large hand, a child’s maybe? She looked on emotionless, this was not Jo’s first encounter with a dead body, scavenging was dirty work. This one was different though. So small, almost delicate, she thought. The fragile bones held something, something untouched by the death and decay of their surroundings. Golden still, even after laying there, a witness to its owners slow demise. Jo stood stiff. Arms straight at her sides. Staring unfocused at the maudlin scene before her. Mesmerised. She should leave it. There were no use for trinkets now, not even as payment.

Jo found she couldn’t. Kneeling reverently, she gently untangled the chain from its perch. Careful not to damage the delicate ivory fingertips it had nested in for so long. Jo held the hand lightly for a moment, giving or receiving comfort? Straightening to examine the chain, Jo saw it was a locket. Golden and heart shaped and incomplete. She wondered if she searched through the piles of crap, would she find a skeletal mother holding the other half? A golden umbilical cord.

Lifting the locket over her shaved and scarred scalp, Jo settled it in the centre of her chest, under her shirts for safe keeping. Packing up the shovel Jo moved on. Thunder clapped viciously over head. The poison rains would follow soon Jo thought, running a hand across her damaged scalp. She needed to make a shelter, quickly. Jo scanned her surroundings maniacally, searching for the ideal spot. Noticing a larger alcove made of a derilict fridge, split door and some other odd pieces. Worn down too far to be identifiable. Jo raced over the short distance, panicking at the painful memory of when she was last caught in the rains. Once at the make shift lean- to, jo took a large sheet of thick plastic from where it was attached under her pack. Securing it over the shelter before diving quickly to safety. Not a moment after Jo had entered her shelter did the first drops of rain fall. A trickle at first. But one look at the oppressive black clouds over head and Jo knew she was in for a deluge.

Jo tucked her knees to her chest making herself as small as possible. Fishing out her new locket and holding on tight. Thinking how she hadn’t seen another soul for weeks now. Not a living soul anyway, and the rats and roaches didn’t count. Maybe she had finally found the edge of all things, maybe she could be safe here alone. Nothing terrified Jo more than people. The Clans were the worst. They had two main objectives, to hunt and kill. The Clans obsessed with the hunt were worst of all. They had lost their humanity so quickly that you’d wonder if there had been any there to begin with. These Clans enjoyed causing fear and panic before they captured you. Once captured you’d be taken to the Chief. Jo shivered, remembering vividly the terror of the hunt, being chased down like some wild thing. Finally being caught by a hidden snare and realising that the Clan hadn’t just been giving chase, they had been hearding her. They had laughed at how stupid and scared the skinny girl was before throwing Jo down at the feet of their Chief. The Chief had been terrifying, listing off everything the clan were intending to do with Jo. The list consisted of, but was not limited to, mauling, canibalising, and burning. That one was a lucky escape. Another Clan had attacked whilst Jo was being transferred to the cells, unknowingly allowing her to escape in the melee. That was when Jo had really started running. Giving up on people entirely.

Moving to lie on her side Jo looked out through the plastic sheeting at the blurry world ahead. Listening to the deadly rain now thundering against her shelter and smelling sulphur. Jo decided she belonged here, at the edge of all things, just as broken as the relics surrounding her. A lonely tear broke free and trailed down her dirt smeared cheek. Jo sent out a silent prayer to dead deities to never see another human soul again.