Sand Red

2

I waited until the campers had settled down before taking out a whetstone from my pocket. Watch was boring as ever and I whittled away at an old blade to pass the time. It was heavy in my hand not as long as my other, but it would have to do for now. Anything that touches a Forager is dangerous and I mourned the loss of my weapon.

My third and last hour was nearing when a sound made me lift my head. The fire had died down to red-gold embers and a soft rustling issued forth from the darkness beyond. I dropped the stone with a muffled thump upon the sand and crouched down silently, scanning the darkness. A sudden, resounding crash sent my heart shooting.

Charlotte called out, 'What was th-'

A second crash sounded into the night and I was sure now it came from the direction of the water safe. I raced forward to the safe, blunt knife in hand, hoping against hope I wasn't too late. Sure enough, in the light of the stars, there was the wall of the water safe blown open and the thieves moved stiffly about under the cover of the new moon, tying up bags of our water.

The Foragers' rank odour of urine greeted me as I drew nearer, peeking out from against the wall. An instant later, I attacked. An inviting back presented itself before me the second I swung out from behind the wall and I slashed at his neck with practised precision, hard to beat the bluntness of the blade and he collapsed satisfactorily, clutching at his throat, making no sound. The virus must have taken his voice. The others scattered with the waterbags, fleeing speedily and a newly infected Forager yelled hoarsely to another. I chased them down and managed to stab into a lagger. He collapsed onto the ground beneath me, shock plastered on his face and groaned in pain. His waterbag burst open beneath him and I scrabbled at it helplessly as the precious moisture seeped onto the sand. I gave up the my futile endeavour and sprinted after the rest, but they were all young Foragers- their motor control still intact- and they outran me before long. I stopped, panting and frustratedly watched three long figures disappear into the horizon.

'Goddamnit!' I yelled and flung the contaminated knife after them. I returned to the campers slowly.

Raul caught up with me as I slumped back. 'You let them get away?' he yelled frantically.

'Yes, Raul, I politely allowed them to run away with our water,' I replied bitingly. I should have heard them before they had the chance.

He looked at me darkly, then bolted off in the direction they had disappeared. I shrugged and walked on back.

Od met me at the shed. His face was grim. 'It's all gone?'

'The tank's on its side.' God knows how fifteen of us would survive without a drop of water in the bank.

***

They were not caught. Under the calm white sky of dawn the camp was abuzz with activity. The sand was bare all around me, all the people and bedding gone. Only pits of the thorn fire remained, black and charred. A very odd scene presented itself to me as I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The shed gaped open and what looked like most of the camp were engaged in ferrying things out and loading them up into the car from yesterday. I got to my feet quickly and picked my way over the rocks to the shed. Raul strained past me, hefting a massive oil vat.

'Hey, hey Raul.' He turned to look at me. 'What's going on?'

'We're leaving.' His mouth was hard.

'But we aren't due for another month.'

'The water's all gone. There's no one for miles since the Jains moved. We have to make a trade. Or find another vehicle coming through.' He turned to walk away.

'Wait.' A small horror was growing in my chest as the reality of the situation asserted itself.

He turned back.

It occurred to me that he blamed me. His lips were pursed and where he was usually a ball of jokes and smiles, his eyes were cold.

'What, Kun.'

I snapped out of my thoughts. 'It's nothing, sorry.'

He shrugged and went on.

I looked around. None had said a word, or so much as glanced at me. I realized why I hadn't been woken. They blamed me for this journey they were going to have to undertake at the height of summer.

'I'm sorry,' I said lamely. Martin peeked out at me from his mother's arms. The others ignored me. I looked at them helplessly. Plodding back to the fire pit, I filled my boots and began to lace them slowly. We were leaving behind the ruins we had begun to call home and would proceed to the rocky terrain in the Northeast. The land was vast there, and the buildings far apart judging by what we had been told by our scouts. The move had been planned meticulously for the winter, when it would be cool enough for a journey of this scale, hopefully with fewer casualties than the last. My chest tightened as I thought of my mother.

I began to gather my belongings, hidden underneath Old World rubble. A muddy jacket, a thin gray shirt, some weaponry and a little water amounted to everything I owned. I wrapped the knives carefully before tying the shirt around it all and just like that, six months of life were packed up and over.

I surveyed the remnants of our camp. The walls of the water safe yawned open and the tank lay forlorn in the wreckage. It looked like it had been ripped apart. There wasn't one bit of moisture to be perceived. There was no hint that it had ever held water at all.

I moved towards Jordan. He stood with his back to me at the wreck of the water safe, speaking with an angrily gesticulating Tom. He turned to me as I approached. 

Tom crossed his arms. 'We shan't be going, Jordan.'

Jordan whipped around. 'That's a death sentence.'

'We'll take it. It's too dangerous and I can't risk it with a baby.'

Jordan looked pained. 'Where will you go, then?'

'We'll stay and join you in December.' He was resolute.

If you live that long, I thought and all three of us were were thinking it.

'We're getting water at the next camp, it's only four hours off.' Jordan pressed.

He gave Jordan a half smile. 'I'm sorry, old friend.'

Jordan was silent. A pity for him welled in my chest.

I looked at Tom. 'Jenny would be safer with us.'

He met my eyes. 'No,' he said ruefully and shook his head. 'She wouldn't.' He turned to Jordan and held out his palm. After a brief moment's hesitation, Jordan grasped it. 'Fare well, Tom,' he said resignedly. Thomas tramped past me and away towards his daughter.

'What are our chances in the heat?' I asked Jordan.

He looked me square in the eyes. 'Nobody's dying. We travel by night and when we've got water. It's no more than a few hours till we can trade for the oil.' There are barely any people left on the planet, just small bands like us and the Baxter camp, the most populous settlement with one hundred and three inhabitants. They were rumored to have four old men with long, flowing hair pure white from age. 

I looked at the campers throwing sacks and blankets into the car. They were the survivors of the struggle for life in a world that wanted to rid itself of us. And yet they looked so fragile, a raggedy bunch of water starved thieves ready, as ever, to face the next danger the planet threw at them. 'I hope you're right.'