Deserted (8 page)

“More for the road then, buddy.” I
said as I tucked his morsels away within my backpack. Finally, with my meal
finished and the day ready to be explored, I gathered our things and hoisted
myself up
Ponika’s
back.

“Lead the way. Find them, boy.” I
urged him forward, no longer trying to direct him. I failed with my way
already; why not try his? He hardly needed any word from me as he took off into
the desert.

I woke
up shortly before the sun, the sky’s hue lightening ever so softly as I stood
up to stretch my legs.
Ponika
slept peacefully beside
me and I gently patted his neck as I wandered around the mesas, taking in the
view. The last few days had been uneventful and we wandered aimlessly, fighting
off our exhaustion as best we could. We found this valley last night and knew
it was the only chance we had to rest.
Ponika
and I
had cuddled up into a small niche in the valley and did our best to rest in the
chill of the night air, hoping our body heat would keep us warm.

The
sands were hard beneath my feet as I explored and the wind blew gently around
me; it was a cool and invigorating breeze for such an early morning. As I
wandered I noticed that there was more than just sand lying around us; pieces
of wood and metal were scattered around the narrowest part of the ravine and I
instinctively looked up, noticing the brief remains of a bridge that once
joined the two mesas together. Looking back at
Ponika
in a deep sleep I decided to continue on, wanting to see what lay above us. By
the time I found the end of the mesas and could climb up, the sun had
brightened the sky immensely; it was only moments away from peeking over the
horizon.

           
The winds were stronger up above our resting place, even in the early hours of
the day and I instinctively raised my bandana over my face. As I drudged my way
up the sloping mesa I started to see the outline of a large, metallic object in
the shifting sands ahead, not far from the remains of the bridge I had seen
earlier. It wasn’t until I reached the bridge itself that I realized what lay
stagnant before me. The wasteland was supposed to be vast and empty and yet
there it stood, tall and imposing over my small frame. Its wheels were rusted
over and swallowed up by the sands while its body stood in a slanting manner,
ready to fall at a moment’s notice. I wasn’t entirely sure why but the sight
saddened me; where was it trying to go? What purpose did it have? And just what
exactly happened to it? Gazing at it in awe, I noticed there was a tipped
boxcar behind it. Empty boxes littered the sands around it and while it had
already been scavenged I could still see a few pickaxes within its otherwise
empty walls; I could only assume it was an old coal train that once lead to the
very mine I had escaped from. I softly touched the train’s metal frame,
wondering on the might of our race before the Reckoning had taken everything
from us. To have been able to create such a thing as the beast before me was
mind-boggling and yet I knew from my parents that the world was once full of
things like this; in fact, this multi-wheeled monstrosity was considered tame
in the grand scheme of things.

           
I’m not entirely sure what compelled me to but I pressed my head against the
steel frame and closed my eyes; maybe I was hoping to sense the world it once
came from or listen to some fleeting ghosts whispering in the silence…I really
couldn’t tell you, but something did happen all the same. As I embraced the
train I suddenly felt my heart swell with love as an overwhelming feeling of my
father filled my head. Maybe that’s why such sights always filled me with
sadness…it was remnants of a world that my father once loved dearly.
Dad…where are you
now?

           
I sighed as the sound of my stomach growling brought me back to reality. I
didn’t have much left in my bag and I was saving what I could for
Ponika
anyway; it wasn’t his decision to enter the
wasteland so I was going to make sure he was taken care of, even if it meant I
wouldn’t be. I decided to enter the boxcar, hoping there could be something
worth taking back with me, regardless of how old it might be. I had
contemplated taking a pickaxe to defend myself with but in the end I felt it
would be too cumbersome and I already had my dagger anyway. Besides, what good
would a pickaxe do against a swarm like that in the mine? Its bulk would merely
hold me back. While I was contemplating my choice in weapons I suddenly heard
voices in the wind outside the train. Panicked, I ran to the back of the boxcar
and hid behind some overturned crates, keeping my eye on a nearby axe just in
case.

“Why do
we even need this, anyway?” A male voice grumbled angrily.

           
“I don’t know…” A smaller voice replied.

They
quickly entered the boxcar, causing it to shake momentarily and I could barely
make them out within the small gaps of the boxes I hid behind. They both
appeared to be rather young with the taller boy looking no older than sixteen.
Both strangers wore light brown tunics and had faded blue tattoos across their
face. The eldest boy had messy brown hair and appeared to have a few white,
shining strands within it, while the younger boy had short, dirty blonde hair.
The small boy looked around carefully, fiddling with his fingers and grabbing
at his tunic as the taller one kicked some crates over and huffed.

           
“I told him there would be nothing here…what a waste of time. How exactly does
he expect us to get coal?”

           
“We could head back to the mine…” the younger boy said as he stared quietly at
the floor.

           
“And do what?” The eldest replied sharply, turning around to look at the other
with balled fists, “you saw it; it’s all caved in! What does he expect us to do
with that? He’s just going to have to accept that there’s nothing out here.”

           
“Jack…you can’t just give up. He needs us to do this…” The younger boy held
fiercely onto his clothing as he flinched at the other’s words.

           
“And what does he expect us to do? Spend days digging through the mess just in
case there’s coal littering the floor? We’re not miners; I have no idea what
I’m looking for! Do you?”

           
The younger boy shook his head. “But your father…”

           
“To hell with my father!”
Jack yelled, his voice
echoing throughout the car as he turned and left.

           
“But what about the supplies?”
The small boy called
after his companion but Jack did not reply. The shy boy bent down to some
crates and opened his bag. “Here you
go,
little travelers.
It’s not healthy but it’ll get you through.” The child spoke to the crate
before him in the same way a kid would speak to a beloved pet. He removed some
things from his bag and quickly stood up. “Jack!” He called as he charged into
the wasteland after his friend.

           
I inched my way out of my hiding space, straining to hear the two boys but
heard nothing; even the wind had calmed. Just who were they? I wondered if I
should have introduced myself as I creeped my way towards the front of the boxcar.
With what I’ve experienced so far in the desert, though…I can’t imagine any
other wanderers being the friendly type. Glancing around for any signs of the
two kids, I checked the crates the young boy was fiddling with and was
surprised to see food inside; a few bags of chips and a couple of sealed,
precooked containers of flavoured noodles. There were even a few cans of
carbonated soft drinks and bottles of water. I giggled at the sight and lifted
the crate, not even caring that I hadn’t brought my backpack with me. I was so
happy to finally see some food but also confused; who would leave this
behind…and why? Soft drinks themselves were pretty scarce…who would have access
to this and then leave it behind? It would be enough to get me through the next
few days although I still worried about
Ponika
…finding
a meal for him in the wasteland was harder than I had anticipated.

I
struggled back down the mesa with the heavy crates, wondering why I even
brought
Ponika
along with me. I clearly was not
prepared for the wasteland and I’ve been risking his life since we first left.
He doesn’t deserve that…he would have been safe and happy at home. Maybe I
really shouldn’t have left…

           
I returned to
Ponika
with my crate of goods, the sun
shining brightly in the sky now. My horse was still sleeping in the nook we had
found and I smiled at him; he was great company to have. I cuddled up next to
him and as I prepared to eat
Ponika
shifted in his
sleep and slowly came to.

           
“Look what I found,
Ponika
.” I showed him the crate
of goods and he sniffed at it while I transferred the contents to my backpack.
“It’s no home cooked meal but it’ll do.”

I left
out a small bag of noodles and a bottle of water, ready to enjoy my breakfast
for the first time in ages.
Unwrapping
the goods
carefully, I took a few bites of noodles using the small plastic fork that was
attached to its side. They were stale, but they tasted like heaven. With a
mouthful of food, I glanced at my horse.

 “What
about you,
Ponika
? Are you hungry?” He merely looked
at me with dull eyes before turning his head back to the wind. I nuzzled into
him. “Alright, here you go.” I took out the oats and wheat that I’d saved for
him and he wasted no time in devouring it all. I gave him a small grin as I tried
my best to stay positive; what good would worry get me now? There’s no turning
back; I’ve made my choice and now I have to live with it.

We both
sat with our breakfast, enjoying the shade and relaxing before we set off
again. I poked around at my food, not much enjoying its flavour anymore as my
mind wandered. After what I’ve been through so far and the places I’ve seen,
there was still no sign of my father or Kay; I had assumed there would be many
clues by now. Honestly, in my naivety I pretty much expected to follow a
breadcrumb trail straight to their location; I really didn’t put much stock
into what kind of journey would lay ahead for me and
Ponika
.

I was
interrupted by my horse sniffing at me, most likely in the hopes of more food.
I cradled his head in my arm and patted his nose. “We need to save what we
have, boy; I’m sorry.” I continued to pat him as I thought back to a year
ago…to the final breaking point in what pushed me out into the desert.

           
There was a Christmas party at the community centre. We don’t always get to
throw one; it depends on what the Provider gives us in the weeks before. This
year, however, we had plenty and threw the biggest party I’d ever seen in my
seventeen years at the village; most holiday celebrations were hardly more than
house parties that could have been for anything. This party, though…not only
was it huge, but it had another meaning for me. I had never had a real birthday
party before. Mine falls two weeks after Christmas, so to me, this
was
a
birthday party.

We were
all supposed to dress our best; many of the townspeople asked for nice clothes
all year round in the hopes of this celebration. The Provider rarely obliges on
frivolous things like that but this year was different - most people got everything
they asked for. Me, though? I never asked. After everything my dad had gotten
me, people became very embittered towards me, thinking that my gifts cut into
the Provider giving their family the new shoes they needed or those earrings
their daughter wanted; like there was some kind of unspoken quota my dad knew
about the Provider.

But you
know what? Maybe there was…and maybe he did know. I’ve often wondered just how
my father managed to get the goods he did…and how frequently. What did he know
that no one else did? Why didn’t he tell anyone? Maybe I
should
be
asking why nobody ever questioned it…

Well,
like I said, I asked for nothing. When my mom found out that I had outgrown
what little formal wear I had, she got quite upset. “Well that just won’t do,” she
had said.

She dug
through her closet and found a few dresses she had worn when she was young;
beautiful dresses, in all honesty, and I was surprised at how well they fit.
I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face when I came out of the bedroom
wearing her little black dress.

“Oh…”
She had said, her eyes softening, “
you
look stunning.”

She
smiled at me and I smiled back. There was a moment then, as we looked at each
other, where our eyes seemed to say what we never could. It was the first, and
last, compliment my mother ever gave me.

We had
walked together to the party, mostly in silence but she did attempt small talk.
My father had already been gone for two years by this point, and my mother had
dropped whatever deadbeat boyfriend she had had previously. It was a tough time
for both of us, but I felt strangely proud of her that night; she appeared to
be having genuine fun socializing and she had hardly anything to drink. It
seemed like a good night for her, like maybe she was getting better. I won’t lie;
it gave me hope, too. Hope that our relationship could be mended. Hope that,
maybe…I wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.