Sat in my tent, I watch the moon come up. I remember when I planned this journey, I had expected to make so much more progress during the night, without the sunlight beating heat down on me. I clearly wasn’t aware of how cold this desert gets at night. My tent tries to keep me warm, however I cannot say it works. The hairs on my neck stick up through a small hole in my jacket. I brush the hair out of my face and unroll my bedroll, however I doubt I will sleep tonight. Tonight, it will have been a year since I last saw my father.
I can still return to that day, if I close my eyes. I can still recall how a year ago I lost everybody I’d ever known, and lost nearly everything I called mine. I close my tent; I’ve seen enough of the moon tonight. I lie down on my roll, and like every other night it begins.
It was a bright morning, and my father woke me up in his usual manner – cold water from the icebox with a small but satisfying breakfast. Then I staggered into the main room, still not fully awake. The sunlight soon let me adjust my vision, and through the window I could see Chloe and Marcus flirting outside Chloe’s house. I sat at the table and sipped on my water slowly. The town had built a new pump next to the river opposite our house, and my father certainly reaped great benefit from it. He came into the main room, ruffled my hair and told me to have a good day in his usual bright manner before leaving for his work. He was one of the builders on the wall, making sure no wild animals could break through and steal our food or break our equipment. The rations we got from it weren’t the best, but the two of us could manage. I spied Marcus slowly letting go of Chloe and grabbing his rucksack as he had to leave her, and I saw the lack of affection in her eyes contrasting with the total adoration in his.
I sat for a short while, until all had settled outside. I packed my writing supplies and headed for my Sweet Spot, a withered old tree a few minutes south of the residential area. At about halfway up the tree, there was a solid branch that somebody light like me could sit on and watch the town buzz during the midday hours. I’d written many poems and stories on that branch, and confessed many feelings too. I’d dreamed about the world beyond the gate, and written little descriptions of what animals I thought lived out there. I knew about the rats, they were our biggest issue along with the spiders. Chloe would argue that the spiders were worse, yet I didn’t think she really understood much for her age.
I climbed up my tree and unpacked my pad and splintered pencil. I scribbled a little in the corner and began thinking of what to write about. I’d talked about Chloe and Marcus already, albeit I’d changed their names for my own sanity’s sake. I’d written about both a peaceful town with a loving mayor and a hellish place run by a cruel dictator. I’d even tried to make my tree the leader of a settlement, however I didn’t mention that story much. I tried to listen in on some conversations beneath me, yet nothing came. I thought a change of scenery might help, so I left my tree and went in search of a new place.
I arrived at the Hole in the Wall. It wasn’t actually a hole, yet I knew how to make it one. My father had fixed it the day it was found by Jones, one of the guards. He told me all about it, and so I knew just what to move to have a look outside. I’d done this before, not out of any desire to leave, just to see something new. There was nothing moving outside, just dirt and dead plants. I remembered Jones talking to the Mayor at a party some weeks ago. “There ain’t one direction I can look where I don’t see no dang scorpions or rats or other pest!” I was disappointed after looking through that hole.
I crawled through the hole a little, so I could see further out. A little layer of dust swept over the dirt, and the scrap in the wall shifted in the wind. Metallic creaking droned around me, and I soon stopped shuffling for fear it’d all cave in on me. I was quiet for a moment, and as soon as the creaking stopped it was dead silent. Not even the guards and their footsteps could be heard. Not one conversation filled the silence. The town had stopped entirely.
I shuffled back in the town walls and replaced the parts of the wall I’d moved. I headed back to my tree to start writing a story about a world frozen in time when I heard a gunshot in the distance. I ducked behind a rusty metal fence and peeked over. In the distance, in the town square, I saw a large group of armed men rounding up the Mayor and his staff. Jones was there – I saw his hat slightly tilted on his head. Marcus must have been there too – one of the men was shoving a young man my age, snatching a rucksack from him. He was pushed down to his knees and he nearly hit his head off of the ground.
One of the men was saying something, but I was too far away to understand. I assumed he was threatening the Mayor to give them supplies, yet he didn’t ever look at him. I wasn’t sure what was going on for a short time, they seemed to just be standing around. Then a lot happened very quickly.
Jones looked at the men. The leader who’d been talking the whole time turned his back during his speech. Jones shook himself free of the man holding him and lunged for the leader. He tackled him down to the ground and tried to choke him. One of the other men dragged him off of the leader and threw him out of my sight. Another gunshot rang through the air. I feared the worst, and the solemn silence from the other hostages confirmed my thoughts. I swallowed and choked on it. Fear had a hold on me; I couldn’t move away.
A group of other people were shoved into the area. Chloe and the other young people were at the back of this group. They must have been at the park, or perhaps in the mess hall. That’s the only way they held out for so long. One of the boys spat in the man’s face, and they kicked him to the ground. I looked away, expecting him to end up like Jones, however there wasn’t a shot this time. I shuffled away from the fence, and grabbed my bag. I finally had a grip on reality, and I knew I had to run.
I tried my best to contain myself and crawl to safety. I climbed in through the nearest house’s window, figuring I’d be safe now they’d found everybody else. I searched through all the drawers and storage containers – I grabbed a tent, a bedroll and a bottle of water. I heard a scream from outside, and I swallowed back tears. Out of the window I saw a blaze forming around the town hall. The leader was shouting at the Mayor, waving his pistol around. One of the older women cried more than the rest – the guard next to her stopped that with his rifle. She hit the floor harder than even the man expected, and he picked up her corpse and threw it in front of the Mayor. The world became blurry, and I stumbled back through the window and back to the Hole. I needed to get out. Smoke didn’t help the choking; I used all my energy to hold back a scream.
I was starting to remove the wall when I heard steps. I ducked behind the fence and looked out to see two guards taking Chloe and two others away from the rest. I hugged the fence when they got close. I overheard them threatening Chloe to tell them where our food, our water, our anything was. She screamed for Marcus – I guess she did have some feelings for him after all. Her voice cracked like I’d never heard before, and I winced as she fell to the ground. The group walked past me, and I slid open the wall. I crawled through, and looked back to the blaze. It’d spread to the residential district, and it was a bright orange. I closed my eyes and ran. I didn’t think twice about it, I panicked. I regret it even to this day.
I know that my father was among those they had. I never saw him with them, but I know he was with them. I stumbled across a caravan after around eight hours of wandering the dusty plains, and he let me follow him to the next settlement after some persuasion. I slept in a dark corner of the town that night, unnoticed by the locals, and in the morning I headed to the well. I asked around about my home town. Some hadn’t even heard of it, some ignored me, and eventually I was brought to the town hall by an older man who didn’t recognise me and thus considered me a thief. I spent that night in a rusty cell as they considered what to do with me. I remember falling asleep in that cell and thinking I was dying. It was far worse than anything this desert has thrown at me.
In the morning, their equivalent to a Mayor opened up my cell and asked if I was the prisoner from the burnt town north of the settlement. I nodded and he gave me a little water. He told me another caravan had arrived, along with news of increased bandit activity in that area. He’d sent search parties to look around for supplies or survivors, and they’d returned empty-handed. I fell to my knees and tried to cry. When I couldn’t even create tears, I looked up and saw the Mayor’s face. He had concern and pity all over his face, and he told me I could stay in his settlement until I figured out where to go. I waited until he left and laughed at his use of “generosity”.
The next day I took all the supplies they’d given me. Small amounts of food and a canteen of water, along with a small curved knife. The man who gave it to me reminded me of Jones and I nearly cried again. I left the settlement and wandered in the direction I’d been told was east, as that was where the next settlement was apparently. They didn’t lie.
Since then, I’ve drifted from place to place. Some places welcomed me, and even offered to let me stay for a while. I never felt comfortable accepting that offer. I felt like a liability; I felt like I should have died too. I felt like I was on borrowed time, and so I kept moving. Some places shot at me when I got within 10 steps of their walls. One time I stumbled across a scavenger and he tried to rob me. He soon regretted that, of course. I dropped my bag on the ground and waited for him to come close before kicking him in the stomach and taking his gun, just like Jones had shown me. I’m looking at that gun right now. I’ve never fired it, but I’ve checked. It has three shots still in it. It scares me, honestly, but it reminds me of how dangerous this world can be even in the most stable of times.
About a week ago, I was in a larger settlement when a man ran into the mess hall. He cried about a bandit raid and I remembered the day I lost my town. I saw a little girl tear up, and I told her to hide wherever she felt the most safe. She told me she had a corner of the wall where she hid from a bully named Ryan. I told her bigger bullies were coming and she nodded in fear and ran outside. I watched her turn a corner and move a metal sheet. I had flashbacks to my Hole in the Wall.
The man who had warned us had ducked behind a table and warned us all that one was coming. I ducked near him and held my knife. A single bandit entered and aimed his gun around the room. He came near my table and I held my breath. He turned away, and I saw the man shake with fear. Everything moved quickly again. The bandit took a step and I lunged over the table and tackled him. I ripped off the bandit’s mask and recognised Marcus’ eyes, this time without any adoration. I froze on him, before another man in the room took Marcus’ gun and aimed at him.
I stood up and told the man to drop the gun. He aimed at me, yet his eyes were filled with fear, not anger. I stared at him for a good few seconds and he dropped the gun and ran. I held my knife and looked at Marcus. He told me that he thought I’d burnt to death with the town, and that he, Chloe and the rest who weren’t killed on the journey to the bandit camp had been forced to work for them. Marcus had become a raider, and Chloe was a scavenger. I remembered the scavenger I left writhing without a gun. Marcus said they had a small camp minutes away, however their main place was days away. I asked about my father; he knew he had been at the main settlement in the earlier days, yet he didn’t know if he was still there. I asked for a direction, and he said north-east. I took the gun that the man had dropped and threw it to a settler before leaving the mess hall.
I climbed over the wall as I had done before. I spied the girl cowering in her corner, far from the violence. I heard shouting in the mess hall and a gunshot. I’d become used to that treatment. I knew that the gate was facing south, so I faced what I worked out to be north-east and began to walk. I’d taken my share of rations that day and figured I had enough for a few weeks.
I’ve been in the desert for a few days now. I hope Marcus didn’t lie to me about their main camp. I was so confused that it was him that I never even once questioned him. He had no reason to tell me the truth. Marcus wasn’t the least bit devious, though – that much I’d learned from watching him and Chloe. I stare at the gun again, with its slightly rusted barrel and worn grip. I don’t know what I’ll do when I find the camp, I’ve never thought about it. If there’s a chance my father is there, however, I’ll find him. He’d do the same for me.
I remember the gunshot from the mess hall. Marcus is dead, I know it. So are a lot of other people. They all died instead of me. I’ve thought many times how close I came to dying that day. I can’t help but wonder what I could have done. I never come up with an answer, but I always end up asking why I’m still here. I always ask if this journey for my father is a death wish. I never answer myself – I’m too scared.
I open my eyes. The moon is shining through my tent, and it’s silent outside. I roll onto my side and think about the magical world I used to create beyond the gate. I think about how that burned with my home. I think about how many other dreams burned that day. I sob a little for the first time in months. I close my eyes again in search of a new dream.
Gillon's Stories 