Scavvers

“I don’t like the look of those clouds out east, let’s make this one quick.”

The words played over in Nim’s head, reminding her to keep moving every time she stopped and lingered. Her gloved hands moved in a practiced pattern as she combed through the bedroom. Top to bottom. Left to right. This wasn’t her first time picking over the bones of an old house, it had been her job to do so for nearly a year now. ‘Scavvers’ they were called. An ugly name for the unglamorous occupation of searching through ruins of days long gone for any resources that could be hauled back home to Little Oak.

Nim had known she wanted to be a Scavver before she had even lost her first tooth. She grew up on her father’s stories of the world beyond the walls of the settlement. Vast forests and rolling meadows that teemed with life, abandoned villages from the days of the old ones. He had even been to the edge of a Red Zone where the air itself was deadly and filled with the howls of mutated creatures. Nim’s brown eyes had grown wider with every word, and she had been sure her future would hold the same adventure. Her mother begged her to stay in Little Oak, to stay and weave and sew as she did, as her grandmother before her had. But Nim’s resolve to join the Scavvers only grew when her father didn’t return from his last scouting. His crew had said he’d fallen into a ravine and was washed away, and though they had searched as long as they dared, no body was found.

This was Nim’s sixth scouting mission, her furthest from home yet, and closer to a Red Zone than she had ever been before. The thought sent a shiver through her as she dug through an old chest of drawers. She was looking for anything useful that could be carried. Metals and wires that hadn’t yet rusted always fetched a good price, as did cloth or linens that hadn’t been eaten to bits by moths. Paper was rare and books were rarer, most had molded or disintegrated into dust long ago. Nim’s favorites were the strange toys and trinkets that the old ones seemed to have in endless supply. They came in all sorts of sizes, shapes, colors, textures- it boggled her mind to think of how they had been made. In Little Oak, toys were carved of wood or sewn from cloth, so simple and quaint compared to the bounty the old ones once held. As interesting as Nim found the lifelike little human figurines and the shiny wheeled toys, she knew they were junk that would only serve to make her pack heavier. So she left them in their drawers and on shelves, wondering to herself what the old ones must’ve done with so many baubles.

The house her team was currently combing was in pretty good shape. The roof had caved in near the front, giving entrance to creeping vines and rain damage; but the adjoining rooms had been closed off. From the amount of dust, she knew they must’ve been the first ones to come through in a very long time. She tucked away a dotted blanket into her large canvas pack before turning her attention to the desk. With a grunt she forced open the shallow, creaking drawer that had locked into place from years of disuse. Bugs skittered for cover as Nim scooped up the pencils that had clattered forward. Thick sheets of dust and bits that had once been paper lined the bottom of the drawer. Skimming a hand through the debris, she hoped there might be something salvageable at the very bottom. Her hand closed around something small and round- very unpaper like.

It was small and silver, clasped to a chain as thin as a spider’s web. She pulled down the scarf that covered her mouth to blow a puff of air on it, admiring it’s gleam when the dust drifted off in a cloud. ‘A silver heart.’ Holding it up to her wide goggles she noticed the small piece had a roundness to it’s width and small clasp on its’ side. ‘A silver heart locket!’ Nim’s mind raced at the possibilities of what could be inside. Could it be a secret message or a lover’s lock of hair? Would she open it to find the face of some old one, perfectly preserved in a photo? Teeth ground together in frustration as her gloved fingers couldn’t work the delicate piece. She started taking off her right glove when she was pulled to the present moment by a voice.

“Nim! Come on, Abe said we have five more minutes, like, ten minutes ago!” It was Fern, one of her Scavver crewmates, standing in the doorway with an irritated expression on her face. Though Nim had been going on missions with this crew of Abe, Fern, Jack, Squirrel, and herself, for almost a year now, she was still the greenest member of the team. Abe, a Scavver veteran of 26 years and their crew leader, had given Fern the coveted job of being responsible for the newbie.

“Sorry!” Nim replied quickly, tucking the locket into one of her many pockets, then following the older girl out of the house. The sky was already streaked with the oranges and reds of a sunset.

“Please tell me you found something actually useful,” Fern said in an exasperated tone as they joined the others. Jack was loading a few things onto their pack mule, Old Fella. The beast was as grey and stubborn as Abe, who’s mouth had drawn into a thin line as he looked at the girls.

“I did,” Nim assured hurriedly, “some ropes, a few wires, oh! Even these glass jars with the lids still on them, look-”

“You were late,” Abe cut her off sternly, but not unkindly, “The storm looks to be heading northwest, the homes we combed a couple miles south of here looked sturdier. Let’s go.”

No one argued. Abe had been a Scavver since before Nim was born, and had more miles racked up then the rest of the crew combined. Things could get dangerous beyond the walls of Little Oak, but Abe had seen enough trouble to know how to keep them safe.

The crew fell in line and kept a brusque pace, Abe took the lead, Fern followed leading Old Fella, then came Squirrel and Nim, lastly was Jack with his long bow already in his hands, ready. Nim had never seen him use it on anything bigger than a raccoon, but she had heard the stories of raiders who drifted between settlements, just waiting to come upon Scavvers.

“Sooo.. What did you find? Must’ve been somethin’ good to keep the boss waitin’,” Squirrel said teasingly, matching her steps to Nim's. Squirrel wasn’t the name her mother had given her, but her incredible talent for climbing and teeth slightly too big for her mouth had earned her the nickname.

‘The locket!’ she had almost forgotten! She began patting down her pockets, trying to remember which one she had stashed it into. A sigh of relief left her when she finally found it. The silver locket glowed gold in the light of the setting sun for a moment before dark grey clouds rolled overhead.

Squirrel’s thoughts were written plainly across her narrow face, unimpressed.

“It’s.. cute,” she offered after a long pause, “I guess a smith could melt it down, I don’t know how much they’ll really get from somethin’ so tiny.” Though Squirrel was more playful than her other more serious crewmates, she was just as pragmatic when it came to scavving.

“It’s a locket, there could be something inside,” Nim defended.

“Or nothing,” Squirrel said with a thoughtful look.

A bright flash preceded the low rumble of thunder that washed over them with warning.

“Come on!” Abe urged, and they all followed his faster pace.

Not every storm posed a threat like this one. The dark tangle had blown in from the east, and that was where the Red Zone lay. They hadn’t ventured close enough to see it. But at night when Nim climbed up a rooftop for her watch, she could see the hazy glow on the eastern horizon that signaled its existence. Her father told her that there was more than one Red Zone out there. The old one’s had created them in a cataclysmic war, laying waste to large swathes of land. Though it had been generations since the old one’s plight, fires still burned within the zones and the creatures that emerged from the toxic ash were malformed and dangerous. It was hard to fathom that humans could have created such a place. Nim had heard other stories that said falling stars or vengeful gods created the Red Zones. In some ways, those tales felt more believable.

They made it to a house so large, it looked like two homes stacked one on top of the other.

“This’ll do,” Abe announced. Jack went in first, an arrow knocked as he swept each room for danger. Old Fella dug in his heels when Fern tried to guide him through the door. Squirrel and Nim eached pushed on his backside, but it was the loud crack of thunder that finally convinced the mule to go in. Nim gathered wooden debris from around the house to make a fire. Luckily, this house had a built-in fire pit encased in red brick. Each time they made camp the fire was her responsibility as Squirrel laid out the bed rolls, Fern tended to Old Fella, Jack set up ramshackle trip wires to alert them to intruders, and Abe made dinner. It wasn’t long before their tasks were done, their bellies were full, and the crew were settled in for the night.

Nim drew first watch, but there would be no rooftop climbs tonight, just staying awake to listen for trouble. She didn’t hear trouble, only the fire crackling, her crewmates snoring, and the patter of raindrops on the roof. The sound of the rain was peaceful, but she had heard that rain from the Red Zone could burn through fabric and skin down to the bone. The roof would hold, she assured herself as she wiped her goggle lenses clean from the day’s dust. As she reached into one of her many pockets for another rag, the little locket tumbled out into her lap. The metal looked warm and soft in the firelight as she gently lifted it. ‘Finally, I can find out what’s inside!’

Even with ungloved fingers, she couldn’t pry the halves apart. With a huff she pulled her large pack closer to search through it for tools. After a moment of digging her hand fell upon a thin, long screwdriver that was just small enough to wedge into the crease of the locket. With a metallic clink the halves broke apart and the clasp fell to the floor. Any regret she felt at having broken the heart was quickly forgotten as the lockets contents slipped into her hand.

A square of yellowed paper lay in her palm, as thick as it was wide, as if someone had folded a larger square many times over to make it fit. Faint letters were etched upon the outer face of the paper, but she had to lean closer to the fire to make them out. Only three letters, her heart forgetting to beat as she read them.

N-I-M.