Leaving the Desert

The boy sighting down his rifle beside me was barely fifteen. "Do you think they have any?”

"Water? Not likely." I was looking at the defensive lines ahead of us through a sniper scope. I might have felt better about the situation if I had the rifle to go with it. "Maybe some food, probably ammo, too.”

"So why are we…” the boy began.

"Hush, Jordan." Satisfied that nothing was happening ahead I lowered the scope and met Jordan's eyes. "Either we take them out, or they take us out. That simple."

"Wouldn't it be better to join up, work together?" The innocent naivety poured off him in waves. With a little meat on his bones, and a scrub-up, he'd be one of those boys described as cherubic. Instead, his cheeks hollow, blue eyes sunk, skin darkened by sun and grime, and curly blonde hair plastered on his head with sweat, he just looked like another victim of the water wars.

"How well did that work out for your folks?" As soon as I snapped it out I felt terrible. Jordan turned away, looking back down his rifle at the quiet defensive works.

"I'm sorry, Jordan. Fuck, I… shouldn't have said that." I turned my attention to the horizon to hide the tears pooling and threatening to fall.

"No, you're right." His voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you really think we can make it to the big lake?”

I stowed the scope in a pouch at my waist. “It’s Great Lakes. Honestly? I don’t know. But we’ll have to go through their territory to do it. Let’s get back to camp.”

We eased back down the hill behind us until we were safe to stand. We were less than an hour out from our camp if we moved fast, but the late afternoon sun made steady, conservative movement safer. The air shimmered with heat, making the sparse, dry grasses seem to swim before our eyes.

“How many gun placements did you see?”

“I counted four for sure,” Jordan said, “and maybe another one, but too far to see.” Jordan had the energy-conserving, ground-eating walk of those raised in the desert plains of Kansas. It had taken me a couple years to pick it up. “How did I do?” he asked.

“It wasn’t a test, but yeah, five.” I patted the pouch with the scope. “We’ll need to find another one of these, or maybe some binoculars if you’re going to be scouting all the time.”

“Was there anything else you saw?”

“Markers - little flags - in a row between the hills and the emplacements. Probably a mine field.”

“Shit.”

“Language.”

Jordan laughed. “As if you’re one to talk.”

“I’m more than twice your age. And I’m supposed to be teaching you how to be an adult.”

“That’s no reason to be a hypocrite. Besides, you’re not that old,” he said, a crooked smile lighting up his eyes.

“Don’t think that buttering me up gets you off the hook.” I gave him a sidelong glance, his expression taking on the sweet, puppy-eyed look. “Okay, okay. You’re old enough to decide what you say and when. Just not around Marla, she’ll tear me a new asshole.”

He laughed. “Why are you together with her? You’re way prettier than she is… and nicer too.”

“That’s not…” I stopped myself before chiding him again. “We’re together because we love each other. Nothing more, nothing less.” There was more, but I didn’t feel like talking about it. “She’s not mean, she’s just… focused — and sad.”

“A lot of people in the camp are,” he said. “Sad, that is. I don’t get it. They say they wish it was like the ‘old days’ and then talk for hours about how dirty the sky was, and how their parents and grandparents kept breaking the world.”

“You were born to this, so you don’t know anything else. They talk about the bad times, after the good times, so we don’t forget that all this,” I gestured to the arid landscape around me, “was our fault.”

“How so?”

“We, humans that is, decided we liked having limitless energy on demand and cheap plastic crap more than we liked the planet. When the oceans started rising and fresh water started running out, instead of trying to fix things, we burned more fuel harvesting the ice in the Antarctic.” I shrugged. “Even before that was all gone, we all started killing each other for whatever was left.”

“But no one in the camp could be old enough to remember that far back.”

“True, but our parents and grandparents were.”

“Huh.” He seemed to ponder this for a while as we walked.

“Gloria,” he asked, “why did you take me in? When my parents….” He trailed off.

“I think it was the sad, puppy-eyes you make.” I laughed, but it wasn’t real. It was the polite laughter that said ‘now that I’ve made a joke let’s leave this alone.’

If I had to be honest with myself, his expression was part of it. Another part was knowing that if no one claimed him, a ten-year-old boy would have been left in the wilderness on his own. Like Marla, when I claimed her. We found her starving on her own in the wilderness, maybe ten or eleven, she wasn’t sure. I was only fourteen myself, but I convinced my mother that I’d take on the extra work to make sure she had food and shelter. When my mother died of the fever four years later, I’d already managed to get my own tent and gear, and a herd of goats. Marla still wasn’t ready to face the world, so she moved in with me, and mother’s belongings were shared out among the camp. She’s never talked about what she went through, but I let her know, often, that when she’s ready to talk I’m ready to listen.

“That’s not really it,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. My sun-baked olive skin looked dark against his faded brown shirt. The copper ring Marla had made for me a few years ago was dull and left green marks on my skin, but I never took it off. “It was Marla. She wouldn't leave you behind.”

“Really?” He had a momentary look of surprise, but covered it up with his all-too-frequently-common adolescent swagger. “I guess she can be nice. You know I would’ve survived anyway.”

“I know,” I lied. “You’re tough like that.”

“But, thanks — for saving my life.”

It was something I hadn’t heard from him in at least two years. Not just the thanks, but the sincerity of tone. As much as I wanted to hug him close I knew he was ‘too old’ for that, and settled for giving his shoulder a little squeeze.

As we neared the camp the smell of meat roasting over flame tempted us in. Twilight was  just setting in and I pointed out Venus on the horizon.

“Venus,” he said. “Good luck, right?”

“I don’t really believe in luck.” I walked into our tent and shucked my gear, and Jordan did the same, taking care to put our packs and weapons in their proper places. “Thank you, Jordan. Should we eat first, or give our report?”

“Let’s give our report first. Then we can take our time with dinner.” He looked as if he wanted to ask something, but didn’t.

“Yes, after dinner you can go make googly eyes at Karina.”

“I wasn’t going to — I mean that’s not…,” he sputtered.

“That’s exactly what you’ll do if you’re smart,” Marla said. She’d snuck in so silently that neither of us heard her. She held something out to Jordan. “I found you this. You know where the tools are.”

She handed him a piece of heavy-gauge copper wire and pointed to the metal-working tools at the side of the tent. He looked at the wire in confusion. Her brown hair hung lank over her pale, freckled face, hiding one of her deep-green eyes. She wasn’t out much during the day, instead taking guard duty most nights.

“You said you wanted to learn how to make one of these,” she said, pointing at the ring on my finger. “You might as well make one for Karina.” Turning to me she said, “Captain’s waiting for your report. You take care of that and I’ll fix you some dinner.”

“You heard the lady. Let’s go Jordan.”

The “Captain”, Howard Colm, pored over maps, comparing recent, hand-drawn maps to pre-fall maps, plotting possible courses to Lake Superior. He was our camp’s de-facto leader by dint of having been a military officer in the tail-end of the water wars, and staying alive as long as he had. I’m sure he was over seventy, but still limber, agile, and strong.

“What can you add?” He spun the map around so we were looking at it right-side up and pointed to the area we had just scouted.

There was a history of our entire journey on the map, years of traveling, detours, and areas marked as too dangerous to pass. Not far to our east was Kansas City, circled in red with the words “New Nation Army” written above. To the north, where we had just scouted, the map was blank, except for the penciled-in words “Army of the East” with a large question mark.

I drew in the earthworks that formed their defilade position and added a line where the markers had been. “I think this is a mine field, but there were no markings on the flags so I can’t be sure.”

Jordan added the five machine gun positions. “They don’t seem like they’re in a hurry to leave. You think they’ll actually leave all that work behind and attack?”

“Son, if they’ve got the same sort of water shortage we do, they might do anything, sane or not.” With that, Howard sent us on our way.

“Gloria,” he asked, “does that mean we might do anything, sane or not?”

“I hope not, Jordan.” I put my arm around him and headed back toward our tent.

We were halfway there when he squirmed out from under my arm. Karina was bouncing up to meet us, her face pink, as if she’d been scrubbing it with sand like we do the dishes. Her blonde hair was hidden under a cap, and her brown eyes reflected the light of the rising moon. “Jordan, can you come have dinner with us tonight?”

He looked at me and I nodded. “Have fun,” was all I got out before the two of them bolted for her father’s tent. Marla was watching, and shook her head with a little smile.

With the current lack of water for anything other than drinking, dinner consisted of rabbit jerky and dried roots that had been pounded out into a dry not-quite-paste and warmed over the coals. Not gourmet, but filling at least. The wind shifted and the smell of cooking meat blew into the tent, making our stomachs grumble.

“The goat will be ready in another couple hours,” Marla said. “Anita and Carla took over from Sten. There’s enough for everyone to have at least a little.”

“That was our last, wasn’t it?”

Marla didn’t answer right away, but the look in her eyes told me I was right. “No water, couldn’t keep her alive.”

I moved next to her and pulled her close. “Shhh. We’ll make it through.” I don’t know if she believed me or not, but she curled up next to me and laid her head on my lap. We fell asleep on the ground there, never making it to the pile of blankets we called a bed.

When morning broke there was a slab of goat meat on a plate in the tent. Too large, if Anita and Carla were sharing it out fairly. Or then, maybe not, since it was the last, and we’d been the ones that provided the herd for the camp in the first place. At some point in the night Jordan had returned and put a blanket over us. He was still snoring away in his own pile of blankets.

The usual sounds of morning, dry coughs, moans, cooking fires being lit, drifted in. Marla had moved up during the night, her head on my chest. I brushed the hair out of her face, expecting to wake her, but she chuckled. “I’ve been awake for a while, just enjoying this.”

“I’m enjoying it too.” I kissed the top of her head and started to rise.

She stopped me. “Wait. Can we go somewhere private, and talk?”

“Of course. Right now?”

“No, let’s make sure Jordan has something to keep himself occupied, then we can go.”

Karina’s voice came from outside the tent. “Are you decent?”

“Sure, Karina, come in.”

“Good morning!” She stepped into the tent and stopped short. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know Jordie was still asleep.”

“I’m not, now. Good morning, Kar.”

Marla nudged me and whispered, “pet names.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re up. If it’s okay with you,” she looked at Marla and me, “the Captain wants Jordie to go with me, my dad and couple others on another scout.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said. “Um, can I do that, Gloria?”

“Why don’t you ever ask me?”

“Sorry, Marla, um, can I go on the scout?”

Marla snorted. “You know I’m just giving you a hard time. Can he, Gloria?”

“Sure. You make sure to do what Jerry tells you. And stay safe.”

“I will.” He threw back his blanket and pulled on his dusty trousers and boots, faded brown shirt, and pack. Grabbing his rifle, he checked the magazine, then looked in the lockbox by his bed for more ammo. “Shit,” he muttered, “I’m running low.”

“Language!” Marla glared at me. “Are you letting him say things like that?”

“No, she’s not! Sorry Marla, sorry Gloria. I won’t do it again.”

I don’t know why he covered for me, but that was one less hurdle to jump before Marla would be willing to talk. Once he headed out to patrol in the north Marla and I went south to walk around the desert a bit.

We were far enough to just see the camp, where we could talk freely. Marla sat on the ground and I did the same. “Gloria, I… I want to tell you what happened to me, but I can’t. I don’t remember most of it — I mean, it’s there, in the back of my mind, and I see flashes in my nightmares, but….”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, or can’t. You know that I’ll love you no matter what.”

“I’m afraid. I’m afraid you’ll forget me.”

“What do you mean?”

“The goats…. I don’t think it’ll be long for the rest of us.” She grabbed my hand to keep me from interrupting. “There’s no way we’ll reach the Great Lakes. Dying is the only way anyone leaves the desert. If — if I die first, I don’t want you to forget me. But I want you to find someone else. Maybe Jerry, or Anita; they’re both lonely.”

“Why don’t you matchmake Anita and Jerry?”

“They hate each other’s guts.”

“And what about you? I could die on a scouting mission, what would you do then?”

“I wouldn’t forget you. I’d take care of Jordan until he’s on his own, then I’ll go back out to the wilderness.”

“Well, that settles it then.” I snuggled up next to her. “We’re just both going to have to keep on living and grow old together. So old, we’ll make Howard look like a child.”

Marla smiled, but it did little to dispel the constant sadness behind her eyes. We sat there a while longer, until it became too hot to stay. The walk back to camp was quiet, somber. I wished there was a way to ease her pain, but without knowing the root, all I could do was to be there for her.

We spent the day around the camp; Marla making another ring from the copper she found, while I cleaned my pistol and mended Jordan’s other pair of trousers. It was nearly nightfall when Karina returned running full tilt, tears streaking her face. She barreled straight into Howard’s tent. Curious members of the camp, ourselves included, started to move closer.

Howard stepped out of his tent, waved us over, and called for Anita, the camp medic. “It’s Jordan, and it’s bad.”

“How bad?” Marla asked. I couldn’t ask, couldn’t speak.

Howard wasted no words. “Gut shot. We won’t know how bad until they get him here. They’re carrying him in.”

The world dropped out from under me and I collapsed. Marla squatted down, holding me from the back, shielding me from the world. I could barely make out the sounds of Anita getting a table ready for when he came in.

When Jerry and the others carried Jordan in, hours or maybe only minutes later, they laid him on the table and collapsed. Anita looked him over and sat down with me.

“There’s nothing we can do. His stomach is punctured. He’ll die, it’s just a question of how,” Anita said.

“What does that mean?”

“Either a slow, painful death from sepsis, or…” she held up a bottle and syringe.

“What’s that?”

“Overdose of morphine. He’ll go to sleep. Painless and quick.”

I nodded and she filled the syringe. I approached him on the table.

“Gloria, mom, I’m scared.” He’d never called me that, and my heart shattered.

“It’ll be okay. She’s going to put you to sleep and you’ll wake up all fixed up.” The tears fell down my face as I tried to keep my voice positive.

He looked at the needle. “Truth?”

I nodded and tried my best to smile as Anita pushed down the plunger.

Jordan grabbed my hand. “See you later, mom.”