Terracoin

“No, no! Water. Uhhh, 'aqua'!” Maude stammered out as she attempted to drink from an imaginary glass. If only the imaginary water felt as real as the imaginary weight of the glass her frail arms attempted to hold up, maybe then she would have been able to get her message across to what looked like a pair of farmers. Maybe then her charade would actually resemble drinking, rather than whatever it is her hands were doing in their weakened state.

“Please,” another weary voice joined in, “Aqua.”

“Ah-coo-ah,” one of the farmers sounded out as best they could.

“Aqua,” Maude let out. To think that only twenty-four hours ago she was celebrating her twenty-thousand Terracoin scratch-off win with a fairly nice bottle of bourbon she normally wouldn't be able to afford. If only I'd have kept my mouth shut she thought to herself. Maybe, just maybe, if she had kept her win to herself, she'd've been drinking some nicer bourbon on a first class cabin as she watched the Pale Blue Dot disappear into the vacuum of space. Maybe.

“Wah-terr! Mutia!”

Using the last bit of her strength, Maude looked up to the farmers. The younger, or perhaps just smaller, of the farmers ran away shouting “wah-terr” and the other phrase that Maude could not make out. After thirty seconds, or what felt like thirty years to Maude, the smaller farmer ran back carrying a flask that was almost immediately bottle-fed to Maude and the man that lay next to her.

“Thank you!” Maude mustered out in between gulps. “Thank you so much!”

The man tried to show his appreciation too, but all he could do was nod his head up and down with every “thank you” that Maude could let out.

“Wah-ter,” the small farmer explained to the other, “ Mutia!”

“Mutia!”

“Mew-sha,” repeated Maude half to the farmers and half to herself. Mutia. Water.

...

The farmers took the pair of strangers into their home, or work shed, so that they could recover for the day. The more Maude came to, the more confused she became. The settlement appeared to be new but designed to look old. It was certainly broken-in by the farmers whose relationship to each other was not clear. They shared a room in the farm shed but not beds. As far as farming goes, they were barely gardeners. There was no way the two “farmers” tended this land for a living. The only thing Maude could really know for sure about the “farmers” was that they shared a deep fascination with 21st Century Western Earthling culture. The second they settled Maude and the other stranger in the bedroom, they glued themselves to their couch and television watching old Western classics like The Fast and The Furious, King Kong, and 2012. Though the picture was pretty clear, the audio was not. The whispers were inaudible and the shouting clipped past what the speakers could handle. It's not as though the “farmers” could tell, anyway; it appeared their only exposure to the English language was this malfunctioning television that echoed throughout the building.

“There's something off about this place,” a voice broke the silence, “and these people.”

Maude looked at the man she was rescued with, but stayed silent.

“You can feel it too, can't you?” the man whispered. “Is there anyone else here with them?”

“Nobody that I saw.”

“I suppose,” the man said through his groans as he struggled to sit himself up on the bed, “we better find out who and what we're dealing with. Let me just-”

“I'll go.”

“Maude.”

“I'll take care of it. Okay? I can do this. You just get ready to run if we need to.”

“I hope running isn't our only option, again,” the man said nudging at his bandaged foot as Maude made her way out into the living room.

As she stepped into the living room, whatever was playing on the screen was going into a suspenseful scene which caused the television to go quiet and the “farmers” to stare at her.

Maude waved a hand to the “farmers” and the smaller farmer slowly waved a hand back.

“I don't suppose there's any place to get a drink around here?” Maude made a drinking motion to get her message across only to be met with blank stares. Oh boy she thought as she stared back. Scanning the room for any sort of prop to better communicate she reached for a small black notebook and pen on the coffee table in front of the “farmers” that was quickly, but clumsily, smack out of her hand, spilling its contents to the floor.

“Kuoip-i, meh vol oh!” the small farmer shouted at Maude. She made an attempt to help but was only met with the larger farmer launching up in a hostile manner towards her. In an attempt to show she meant no harm, she lifted her hands, palms out, and backed away to give the small farmer space as he picked up the papers.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” Maude tried to be as passive and apologetic as she could be. The large farmer stood his ground while the small farmer began to organize the papers. As he filed them into the notebook, a red stamp caught Maude's eye. An upside down, pointy, concave triangle with a strange symbol in the middle resembling the Arabic numeral “3”. The same symbol tattooed on the forehead of every gang member that chased Maude for her winning ticket the day before.

The closest thing Maude could compare her body's reaction to the stamped symbol was a taste aversion developed to a liquor after that liquor causes one to spend a night hugging a toilet. Her stomach tied itself in a knot while simultaneously going completely limp. Her skin began to burn yet she felt the need to find warmth. Sweat began to form on her forehead and her mouth went dry. This was it. This was the end of the road.

“I'm sorry,” Maude stammered out, waiting for the “farmers” to pull out their Plaz-9s and disintegrate the duo they had just rescued a few hours earlier. So be it. The twenty-thousand Terracoins were not worth what she was put through during the last twenty-four hours. They'd be doing her a favor to just end it here.

“Poulut wa,” the small farmer said to the larger farmer in what Maude could only assume was confusion.

“Muti wa buw wolot pha!” exclaimed the larger farmer, causing both of them to burst out into laughter. As their laughing fit came to an end, the pair sat down and the smaller farmer offered Maude a drink from a brown bottle with a makeshift label. That was perhaps the closest thing to Earthling Humans the two had done since they had rescued Maude and the man.

“Thank you,” Maude let out, half laughing, half holding back tears. “I'm going to get my friend,” she announced to the farmers as she cautiously backed into the bedroom while the “farmers” continued their drinking.

“So we're friends now, huh?” the man asked sarcastically. The dim light in the room revealed a grin on his face as he stepped out from behind the dresser next to the door.

“We have no choice but to be.”

“What happened out there?”

“I'm not quite sure but I think I may have just cheated death.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

The man pensively looked at Maude, but his gaze was disturbed by a loud roar coming from the sky. Maude and the man press themselves up against the sides of the windows and peek through the blinds out towards the source of the sound. A modified hovercraft speedily made its way in the direction of the farm. As it crept up on the farm, its size and insignia became clearer. The craft heading towards the farmhouse was bigger than the building, and it carried the same red symbol that nearly caused Maude to vomit a few minutes earlier. The duo simply looks at one another.

“So what now?” asks the man, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

“We run.”

“Of course,” the man groans.