Johanna filled Chloe’s bottle with the last of the fresh water and even though she knew that no clothing would protect her baby, she wrapped her in a shawl. She checked the bag for her I.D. card. It was ration day.
She looked through the window—no sign of clouds. The horror of her husband’s death flashed before her. Johanna rocked the baby to comfort herself and closed her eyes. The half-hourly bulletin brought her back to reality.
“Good morning from the Control Centre. A rain warning has been issued for the metropolitan area. If you are going out for rations, proceed directly to your allotted depot and return home immediately. Water thieves were sighted in the city centre and authorities warn they will be shot on sight. And now for the latest satellite pictures from...”
Johanna turned away from the images of destruction. She lowered her baby into the capsule, put on her coat and picked up her keys.
*
Since it began thirty-nine days ago the acid rain had taken two thirds of the Earth’s population. Initial fears about chemical warfare were quelled when the world realised that no country had escaped. By the third week, scientists had discovered that the origin of the acid rain was not from any source on Earth.
A meteor had exploded, spewing millions of tons of hydriodic acid gas into the atmosphere. The gas, suspended in cloud, formed a ring of poison around the Earth, contaminating the rainwater.
Once a bearer of life, rain was now a carrier of death. Fresh water converted the gas into acid, keeping it potent until it evaporated. The acid burned through every living thing; in seconds; flesh and bone dissolved into a bubbling slime.
After the initial devastation, people stayed inside, venturing out for food and water. For some, terror overcame their will to live, and they died of thirst inside their homes. Governments scrambled for solutions while people continued to die.
Filtered by rock, underground water remained pure and, for those who knew where to find it, meant life. Before long, however, subterranean water sources became sites of violence. Finally, governments took control, rationing water and food, and establishing martial law.
*
Johanna focused, ignoring shattered windows and exposed steel. She checked the fuel gauge—a quarter of a tank. The drive to the water depot took fifteen minutes. As usual, cars were lined up, so she took her place in the queue. Chloe became restless and started to cry. Johanna tried the radio for music to calm her, but the airwaves were filled with words. “…harvest water from polar ice caps.” “…end of the world…” She turned it off and inched to the front of the queue.
“I.D. and ration card—through the window please.”
Johanna held out the documents. A soldier placed seven one-litre bottles of water on the counter.
She loaded the precious cargo and turned towards home. Road diversions had been set up to control looters and the main exit road was blocked by army trucks. Johanna followed a BMW into the deserted warehouse district. Twisting her way through the narrow streets, she turned sharply into an alley and slammed her foot on the brake, behind the BMW.
Armed men in make-shift metal armour had barricaded the alley and were demanding bottled water. The thieves were two cars ahead, arguing with the driver of an SUV.
“Hand it over.”
“Please…I’ve got children...”
“Shoot him...” A gunman shouted.
The SUV driver sped forward. Gunshots pierced the back window hitting the driver in the head. The SUV smashed into the barricade. The thieves grabbed the water from the SUV and turned their attention to the next car in line.
The BMW screeched back, then spun around. Johanna followed. Moments later, a van raced past, pursued by an army truck. The van swerved and slammed into the parkland fence. The army truck opened fire. As the van returned fire, one of the thieves jumped out and escaped into the park.
Johanna froze. She checked the fuel gauge—almost empty. The sky was grey.
To her left was the parklands entry. The route was longer, but it would take her back towards her house. Ignoring Chloe’s sobs, Johanna drove through the gates.
The parkland was desolate. Nothing remained of the timber picnic shelters except their concrete floors which lay like unmarked graves in the dead earth. Hemmed in by the harbour on her right and a rocky embankment on her left, she wound her way along the foreshore. She edged around a blind corner. An abandoned car blocked the narrow path.
Her door flew open; a gun was thrust to her head. She was grabbed and thrown to the ground. The driver took off, ramming the abandoned car out of the way. She sprang up and ran, screaming.
“My baby.”
Stopping ahead, the driver held Chloe through the front door. Johanna clutched her child before he raced off. She stood on the path with her daughter and screamed at the sky.
The clouds were darker. A cold breeze blew through her hair. Sobbing uncontrollably, Johanna stumbled up the embankment—with no idea of where she was heading. At the bottom of the rise, she saw the green metal roof of a boatshed. She ran.
A small group pounded the iron door.
“Help us.”
“There’s no room.”
“Please.”
The sky was black. Johanna looked around. There was nowhere to run. A woman turned to Johanna. “Have courage. We’ll be together.”
Johanna felt the first drops on her face and tucked Chloe inside her coat. The rain pelted down, through her woollen coat, to her skin.
The water fell down her legs, filling her shoes. It wet the black earth and streamed into the harbour. Some bystanders knelt in prayer, heads bowed. Others lifted their faces to the sky. The rain, untainted, and life-giving, soothed Johanna’s eyes and washed the tears from her face.
The woman took Johanna’s hand and began to dance. Johanna laughed with the realisation that the terror was over. She kissed Chloe and held the woman’s hand tightly as they both danced in the rain.
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1 comment
Wonderful !
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