For the Sake of Breathing

Chapter Five

        I wish it would snow.

        I know it's a stupid hope, especially since it hasn't snowed in two hundred years, but I feel completely and utterly alone -- I'm not used to that feeling. I've always had someone. 

        The Carbon Shifter allows me to move at a steady jog. For a moment, I feel annoyance flare inside of me that I have to use Lake's things to survive, but then I remind myself that I should be grateful that at least I have enough to survive. 

        The sun is causing sweat to dry on my face, and my eyes are burning from the light. I am overheated, but I push myself forward. For Zander. For Ten. I jog until I feel ready to pass out from exertion. The sun is scorching me.  All I can think of is taking one more step at a time. Just one more step, I lie to myself for the fiftieth time in a row. Just. One. More. 

        The sun is setting, and the sky is a million different shades of color. I sit on a lone rock, and gape at the sky until it grows dark. 

        The stars shimmer in the sky, and the full moon shines down eerily on the Lifeless Valley, which I suppose isn't lifeless anymore, considering I'm walking through it.

        I set up camp, and lie on my back until I eventually pass out from fatigue. In the distance, I swear I see flashlights flickering. I blink, flustered, and hold my breath. The light is gone. I exhale deeply, shut my eyes, and attempt falling back to sleep.

        I don't recall ever actually falling asleep, but I find myself sitting up with trickles of sunlight leaking over the horizon, the gentle rays showing off the speckles of dust in the air. I rise to my feet, roll my shoulders, and turn on the Food Creator. I select a piece of wheat of bread, and it appears inside.

        I open the Food Creator, and eat the bread without a second thought. It's boring and flavorless, but I don't mind, I'm used to it by now, even though I have a deep lack of appreciation for food.  I mostly eat simply because I have to, and not because it seems good, because everything is a interesting as an old gray rag. 

        I pack up camp, and set out again. The silence is infuriating. I hum to myself, and daydream about what the Great Haven might have in store for me. 

        I imagine green everything, and a waterfall cascading down the rocks.

        I sip apple juice to get rid of the parched feeling in my throat. I will build a new home there, and I will live out the rest of my days adapting to my new life.

I feel like my face is on fire. The sun is blinding me, and I'm exhausted. I am moving at an unbearably slow pace, and it is causing irritation to surge up inside of me. The only thing keeping me from throwing all my stuff down and heading back is the fact I burned the camp to the ground, and I don't go back on my promises. I find myself imagining I am Zander a decade ago, making this journey. I feel as though I am following in his footsteps and it brings a smile to my parched lips. I am following my brother's footsteps, and Ten is following me, from that place that Copper used to tell us that good people went to when they died. I think it sounded a lot like Haven. Who knows, maybe the deceased go the Great Haven as ghosts. This thought urges me to progress further. Perhaps I'll see Ten again, someday. 

        I groan. All of my thoughts end up being lead to Ten, in the end. I remember when I was younger, how we used to play an old game where we'd imagine that Zander was alive again, and we'd try to come up with things that sounded the most like him. I always ended up crying at the end because I always won, and it meant so much to me: I wanted to be just like Zander when I was a child. He was more than a brother to me: He was also my father, mother, mentor, nanny, and friend. He had responsibility thrust upon him out of the blue, mixed with grief he somehow managed to survive through. I blink, and my eyes burn from the need to cry. I have become Zander. I know now that Zander did not survive through his grief, he merely masked it, and pretended it did not exist by focusing on the problem at hand: Us.

        I have the responsibility of my own survival, I have lost three people I care about, and the problem is I have to make it to the Great Haven without dying, like Zander had. I  have to uphold a commitment I have made to Ten. I am making the same journey as my brother, the only difference is I will keep my oath, while he broke his. 

        I ask myself how long I am going to keep up this pace. If I move at a steady rhythm, I will have enough energy when necessary. Logic is telling me to remain slow, but impatience is prickling under my skin. This is a long journey, and I'm only going to make is last longer walking.

        I move into a jog. After an hour or so I find myself feeling exhausted, and I'm covered in sweat. I unload my Food Creator, and make a cool drink. I swallow the flavorless liquid in deep gulps. Once I finish, I wipe my face and get back to my feet. I'm sore, but I push myself into a run.

         My legs are ready to fall off, but I convince myself  that if I keep it up, I'll reach the Great Haven sooner, and Ten will be proud of me. Ten. I move onward.  The sand is kicking up a dust storm. I am having a hard time seeing now, and my arms are burning. My lungs ache, and I am on the verge of collapse. Feet-moving, eyes-squinting, I propel forward.

        Even as the last rays of the sun vanish behind the mountains, I keep moving. I don't need sleep; I need to get to the Great Haven. Finally, as the full moon has risen, I fall on my back, and don't bother unpacking. I fall asleep in an instant. 

Dust had encrusted the edges of my eyes. The sun is dawning, and I am wearily struggling to my feet. I skip breakfast, and head out at steady pace that quickens after about ten minutes. Though my lungs have caught fire, and every muscle in my body is beyond agonizingly sore, I endure. For Ten. I have to make it, for Ten.

        My loneliness has become torture. I've never been by myself for so long before. What's killing me the most is I keep turning, finding myself thinking of something to say, only to realize I have no one to turn to, and remember that Ten is dead. The faster I move, the less need for company I feel. I cannot stop, or else I will start hurting on the inside. I will never forgive Lake for the sin he has committed. Ten was my best friend -- my only friend.

         A buffet of wind hits me head on. I fight through the blast. My thoughts focus on when I was younger, before my life was raked with death and grief. I imagine a small tarped structure standing tall in the desert, the inside comfortable and warm. Inside are two beds and a sleeping bag, a desk cluttered with supposed "junk", and a shelf overflowing with various tools, books, clothes, a Food Creator, and electronic notepads. The beds are unmade, and there are a multitude of items lying scattered across the sandy floor/ground. Inside are four people, the eldest tall with long, wavy, coppery hair and light blue eyes, the next with short dark hair and green-blue eyes in his late teen years, the third only fresh out of his toddler years with and all-around dark look to him, and the last a young with the same eyes as the older boy and brown hair well past her shoulders. Inside it smells metallic and dusty. Inside is home, a home I wish I still had.

        I miss Ten. My life will not be the same without him. The Great Haven will seem so empty when I don't have him by my side. 

        I have a hard time functioning with so little left to care about. The only thing that is keeping me running is the reminder that I promised Ten I would find the Great Haven, so I will.