Hope

Tracy opened her eyes. She stared into the blackness at the smooth rock ceiling she knew lay seven feet above where a mound of blankets and pillows were gathered, forming her bed. She sat up, reaching across the darkness to switch on the oil lamp. The flame lit and the cramped room filled with light, casting long shadows across the cave wall and floor, bouncing off the various items cluttered around her sleeping area. Cans of food, mostly expired, were stacked unevenly in a corner. Tracy made her way to the cans, passing by an assortment of electric parts, haphazard building material, clothes and tools. She grabbed a can and from her back pocket produced a knife, stabbing into the can, and scraping the spam into her mouth. She finished quickly and turned to her left where a large trash bin stood. She grabbed a pitcher and dipped it into the trash bin, filling it with water that she gulped down quickly. The bin was nearly empty, which meant she would have to travel to the spring.

She took a light pass over her items, pulling a small notebook from her jacket pocket and taking notes. Nothing needed replenishing except the water. She could make it several more months before she needed to start searching for food again. She slid on her boots, wrapped a mask around her face and donned a pair of heavy work gloves. She found a pair of goggles from a pile, wiped them clean and fastened them tightly around her eyes. Tracy tossed her backpack on and grabbed the empty bin, pulling it to the entrance of the cave. She opened the metal gate at the cave entrance and pushed the bin out into a larger cave. She closed the gate behind her and locked it with two combination locks and one key lock. 

A faint light shone from the left, which is where she headed, dreading the sunlight. A few minutes and the cave opened to a desolate rock face, dry and empty of any greenery. What used to be the rolling hills of the Ozarks now lay barren, only rocks and lifeless dirt remaining. 

Tracy shielded her eyes from the blinding sun, checking her clothing for any open skin. She couldn’t afford a scalding sunburn. The natural spring, the only one she’d found in the surrounding area was an hour walk from her cave. She scanned the area, and seeing no signs of human life, made her way to the spring. Barely five minutes and her clothes were drenched in sweat. She would give anything for rain, but it hadn’t rained for nearly two years and the temperature seemingly grew hotter every day. She pulled a small thermometer from the side of her backpack. 110 degrees Fahrenheit in October. She needed to store up as much water and food before summer came around. 

Halfway to the spring, as she rounded a large boulder after pulling the bin up a small hill, sand shifted somewhere to her right. She flung the bin in front of her and pulled out her father's glock, pointing it in the direction of the sound. A few minutes passed and nothing happened.

“Anybody there?” She croaked. Her mouth felt dry and withered. She almost didn’t recognize her voice since she hadn’t spoken in so long. There was no response. Maybe the wind shifted dirt. Holding her gun in her left hand, she pulled a large switchblade from her pants pocket and moved toward the sound. Better to be safe than sorry, and besides, the gun was actually empty but she’d gotten out of a few bad situations just by having it on her. She arrived at the spot where sound had come from and cased the area. No place to hide or run, it must have been the wind. 

She returned to the bin. Maybe she was going crazy. All this time alone with no human interaction, she might have hallucinated the sound. Tracy pulled out her journal and wrote the situation down. Journaling is what kept her from losing it. She continued on, descending another hill into a small valley. On the other side of the walley up in a rocky area at the start of a hill was where the spring came from. The fear that one day she would arrive at the spring to find it dried up always lurked in the back of her mind. 

The spring was up on top of a small rocky outcropping on the side of the hill she had begun to climb. She had to climb up and over to access the spring and as she grabbed onto a rock to pull herself up she heard a noise. Someone or something was loudly lapping up the water above her. Her heart raced and she backed up several feet, brandishing her gun and knife. Should she yell out? Whether human or animal, it would either run away or attack her and she wasn’t willing to take that risk. She could wait for it to leave but there was no telling how long that would take and she didn’t want to be outside any longer than she had to. 

The lapping stopped. She waited. No sounds come from the spring and she saw no movement. She stepped further back and waited. Nothing. Was she imagining sounds again? She glanced around, growing paranoid, her heart beating out of her chest. 

Eight months since the last human interaction. Eight months since a man almost killed her as he tried to steal her backpack. She had no one and questioned why she even went on living like this. Emotions overwhelmed her as a glimmer of hope flickered inside her. Maybe a kind human was up there, just as scared as she was. She quickly pushed back the hope, distinguishing it. Hope would get her killed.

“Hello, anybody up there? I’m just here to get water and then I’ll leave.” No response. “Please. I’m here for water. I don’t want to hurt you.”

A minute passed and Tracy debated whether to go around and find an area where she could see down onto the rocks where the spring came from. She began to move along the hill when she noticed movement atop the rock. A small dirty hand appeared and hung over the rock. Then the other hand appeared and both arms pulled and a young boy’s face appeared.

Tracy gasped. The boy looked around nine years old. His face was covered in a blanket of brown and red. Dried blood streaks ran from his nose to his chin. Poor kid. He looked half dead. Tracy bounded forward, reaching the rocks. She could help him. She could save him. She could… she could be walking into a trap. She backed away from the cliff again. 

The boy pulled himself further over the edge, now half his body showing. A huge gash ran across his abdomen like he’d been recently sliced with a large blade. Tracy watched him, mortified. How far would humans go to get the food inside her backpack? She’d seen enough to know there wasn’t much a human wouldn’t do for food or water, especially in desperate times like these.

The boy pulled himself forward, groaning as his torso hung over the edge. He pushed his hands against the rocks pulling himself further. Their eyes met. A deep sadness and despair in the boy’s eyes pierced through Tracy’s heart. 

“Wait, stop,” She yelled to the boy, louder than intended. He didn’t respond, continuing to push himself further over the rock edge. A few more feeble pushes and he would fall ten feet head first.

Tracy moved forward slowly, spying the area for any movement. The boy began to slip and he wiggled further, his whole body nearly over the edge. She picked up her pace, several meters from the cliff. This boy didn’t deserve to die. There wasn’t much of humanity that remained but she had to keep alive what little did.

The boy fell.

His body bounced off the rocks as he tumbled down. Tracy screamed and sprinted forward, only a few feet away. She lunged, arms stretched out. The boy hit her in the chest, knocking the air out of her and sending her flying. She slammed into the ground, the backpack thankfully absorbing some of the impact. She held the boy in her arms for a while, not knowing what to do, hoping he would live.

She sat up and shook the boy gently. He opened his eyes and stared at her. 

“Everything is going to be okay, she whispered.” 

He leaned his head into her chest and wrapped his arms around her. Tears streamed down her face and they held each other for several moments more. Tracy couldn’t remember the last time she had cried or the last time she experienced positive human interaction. She felt a spark of hope and held onto it. This boy would survive.