A Journey

     Ellie hated to travel at night, but she needed the safety darkness provided. Howls of some predatory beast echoed through the valley, and a whistling wind created a dreary soundtrack. She ignored the sinking feeling in her core and continued on her way.

    When she reached the Dip, the junction of the main road and the mountain pass highway, acrid smoke wrinkled Ellie’s nose, and charcoal gray plumes curled above the path. Hunched figures in hoodies and jackets huddled around an open flame in an encampment beside the road. She smiled at a woman cradling her sleeping young child, and watched her wade into the overcrowded site of worn tents and cardboard huts. She wondered, where had these people lived before everything went to Hell? Who had they loved? Were they happy in the lives they lived before, and how would they survive? She blinked back fat tears, and prayed for their protection and peace.

   Once, Ellie walked her neighborhood carrying her chilled hydro flask, amazed by the transforming predawn sky, colors cycling from dark blue to pale orange at sunrise. She researched the chemicals and substances that gave hue to the sky, but she still wondered why those shades appeared and not others. She admired the lawns and gardens of her neighbors, resisting the urge to pluck a particularly beautiful bloom. Now, she longed for the inspiring panorama of flora and firmament.

   Ellie had been a lazy gardener before the Event, randomly purchasing and planting seeds once the weather warmed. Every Spring, she marveled at the purple, pink, and yellow flowers that brightened the backyard through the first chill of Winter. She snapped photos and pored through gardening books in the Library to identify the flowers and their origins, growing seasons before she clipped the blooms to adorn her tiny cottage.

   Then, the world changed, and everything became scarce. When the first drought occurred, Ellie used water from her biweekly personal allotment for her garden, which produced a few tiny blooms. Eventually, the garden withering into a shadow of itself. After she studied plants that thrive in arid conditions, she decided to recreate a small measure of beauty in a crumbling landscape.

    Ellie paused and swallowed a chalky ration tablet and mopped her brow. She pushed on, the burn in her thighs and calves a reminder that she’d neglected to stretch in her haste to leave. The rise in the road indicated that she was less than five miles from her destination, with less than four hours of darkness remaining before the roads were filled with armed sentries at their posts, ready to detain anyone without proper identification and sanctioned purpose for their travel.    

   Ellie had driven this stretch of road at least five times a week when she worked as a researcher at the university. Besides the tulip garden near the school’s entrance, where she lingered on Spring afternoons before she departed for the day, her favorite place was the Library, where she spent much of her time satisfying her curiosity about everything. She loved the musk of those aged books and loathed their loss once the Purges began.

   What future was possible for a society that restricted citizens from seeking knowledge of the world? How would change occur if there was no exploration to build a brighter future? In her work, Ellie recognized the theme of resisting change as the underlying cause for the collapse of the most advanced empires. She felt powerless to effect any significant change, but something compelled her to salvage a tiny beautiful creation before it was completely lost.

   Now, the moon reflected on the nearly empty lake in the park. Patrols destroyed the campgrounds to discourage the type of encampments for displaced people. Charred wood remained of the benches and structures where families once gathered for picnics and reunions to celebrate. The lake had been one of the largest man-made bodies of water in the area, and it was drained not long after the restrictions began. The scant rainfall remained, which seemed to shrink each month in the inescapable sweltering heat. Even Winters stayed warm, with the daily temperature never falling below 60 degrees on days that once brought freezing weather to the state. Ellie thought of filling the spare hydro flask with lake water, but she nixed the idea, having watched news reports of water theft detected by hidden sensors, the offenders rounded up and imprisoned indefinitely. 

   The blue violet sky meant sunrise was less than an hour away. Ellie lengthened her stride and approached a clearing near the town square. News reports failed to depict the utter devastation of burned storefronts and boutique shops she once frequented during after-work errands. She’d read about the sentries shooting citizens using the area for shelter, and in an hour, they might appear to round up stragglers, so she needed to hurry.  

    She reached the patch, now illuminated to discern the flowers she coveted. No sunflowers or clover, but a few undersized thistle and larkspur inexplicably bloomed. Ellie shrugged off her pack, locating and yanking on her suit, in case anyone appeared while she collected. She slipped the four mesh bags, the hydration tablet nestled and ready to nourish the flowers she found. Ellie used the miniature trowel to dig the first plant and its root ball. The towering larkspur she picked next spilled out of its bag, and Ellie tucked it into her pack with the utmost care. When all four bags were filled, she smoothed the soil and zipped her pack. 

  “What are you doing here?” A flashlight, held by the tallest man she’d ever seen, shone in her eyes

   Ellie raised her hands, her heart racing against the blood rushing through her ears. 

  “I see your ID, but why are you out this early?” The shorter sentry said, a firm grip on his pistol.

  “I’m a vegetation researcher, I prefer to work when in cooler temps.” Her lie held some truth, though her work involved governments and civilizations, not horticulture. 

  “She’s just picking wildflowers, unarmed, let her go,” the first guard said. 

  Ellie lowered and held out one dirt-caked palm. “I’m done, and I won’t be back.”

  “Leave now.” The men turned and Ellie hoisted her bag, almost dropping it again from her unsteady arm.

   She made it halfway home when the rain fell as a fine mist, then a soaking shower. Usually she hated the rain and darkness equally, but Ellie gave thanks for the beauty and promise of it all.