A Gift

“You can do this. Just two more miles, okay?”

Jackie received a blank look from the girl, and she felt a pang of frustration. She knew it wasn’t fair, given the circumstances, but she couldn’t help it.

“I need a response,” she said. “Nod if you think you can make it.”

The girl shook her head.

“Okay,” Jackie said, breathing. “Okay.” She pulled a small tin case from her pocket and found that it was nearly empty.

She made a little pinching gesture with her fingers. Just one pinch this time, instead of two or three. “This will have to do for now, okay? I’m sorry, we have to conserve what we’ve got left.”

The girl nodded briefly.

Jackie plucked a speck of powder from the tin and handed it to the girl. She didn’t take any for herself. “You’re going to be okay,” she said.

But the girl was in no condition to reply. ­

Jackie put the tin away, tucking it into her sweaty, ash-stained pants. She hated this, hated the guilt she felt every time she looked at the child by her side. Everything would be alright once they made it past the checkered sign on the outskirts of town.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

When the girl didn’t respond, Jackie took that as a yes, kneeling down, knees digging divots into the muddy dirt. Lifting a dead weight was a practiced motion for her.

“Good?” she asked. When there was no response, her heart skipped a beat, and a dark thought slipped into her mind. “Hey. Good or not? I need a response.”

A moment later, she felt a knobbly knee press against her back. Jackie didn’t know what it meant, but it was at least a sign. She stood, straining under the weight, and began trudging down the beaten road. Ash-grey sunlight poured down from the sky, and the dead trees and crumbled buildings at their side provided no respite.

It was dead silent, as if the world were afraid to make a sound. There were no leaves to rustle in the breeze, no birds flapping in the sky, no people walking on the roads.

“This used to be a city,” Jackie said to the girl, who was nodding off over her shoulder. “Or at least, that’s what my uncle Andy told me.”

The girl’s eyes opened ever so slightly in acknowledgement.

“These roads were made of asphalt, before the war sun-scorched everything. Like a flat black rock that stretched out for miles. And there were lots of people here, he said. Whole streets full of people, crowds as thick as the clouds in the sky. Big buildings full of people that reached up into the stars.”

A gust of wind knocked soot from the branches of the dead trees, drifting to the ground like dark snowflakes. They walked past a heap of bricks with a scorched sign that said Maximum Occupancy: 500.

“Hundreds of people. Thousands. Millions. I can’t imagine. Can you?”

The girl shook her head gently, swaying along with Jackie’s movements.

“Yeah. The most people I’ve ever seen at the same time is about twenty,” Jackie said. “My family.”

Her train of thought faded, and they walked in silence for a while. With every step, guilt wormed its way into her heart, gnawing at her, digging at her until she felt sick. Until she felt like she had to say something.

“I’m really sorry about your mom,” Jackie said.

The girl tightened her grip around her shoulders, but made no sounds. Jackie waited for a moment, and when there was no further response, she pushed on.

“There wasn’t anything I could do. By the time I found you in that old house, it was too late.”

The girl whimpered. Jackie squeezed her hand, and found that it was shaking.

“It sucks, and it hurts, I know, I know. I lost my mom, too. Bandits,” she said, spitting out the last word. “So believe me, I know exactly how you’re feeling right now. Some days it’s all I can think about. ”

She clenched a fist.

“But it gets better. And I’m going to take care of you, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you. And when we get to my family… they'd let you stay with us if I asked. I know it’s probably not what you want, but… maybe just for now? How about it?”

Jackie listened to her own breathing, feeling the warm air on her face.

“I’m going to need a response,” she said softly. Moments later, the girl made a noise that sounded between a squeak and a snort. Jackie’s lips curled slightly. “Okay. Great.”

A flash of green caught her eye, and focusing on it, she could see a house at the end of the street covered in overgrowth. Thick vines with brightly colored flowers twisted up the walls and over the roof.

Jackie stopped, putting the girl down.

“Have to do something,” she said. “Quick errand. Stay here, okay?”

The girl shook her head furiously.

"It's just for a few minutes. I’ll be quick, and we'll be right in our way."

She shook her head again.

“I don’t understand. What do you want? Do you want to come in with me?”

The girl shook her head even more vigorously.

“Look, I've got to go in there. My family's counting on me. I've got to bring back supplies, carry my weight. Show them I care." She pointed at the house. "You see those plants? That means there's a good chance nobody else has gone inside and taken the good stuff yet."

The girl gestured at her mouth, making a pinching motion.

"No, we have enough medicine. Yeah, it's not a lot, but it's enough to go inside the house for a few minutes." Jackie placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "My uncle always says that family is about giving. You want to stay with us, right?"

The girl nodded slowly.

"Then we should find something in there to prove ourselves. Show them that we deserve to be there. I know you don't like it, but we have to."

Jackie couldn't decipher the girl's expression, but she allowed herself to be led along, limping with every step.

The house was a shabby thing, built of rotting wood and cracked masonry. It was only kept together by the vines and trees holding it in place. The door was slightly ajar when they arrived, the thick wood pried back by vines as if the house itself was inviting them.

Jackie pulled the door open wide, kicking dust into the air. A trembling hand grabbed her wrist, and she glanced backwards.

"Hey, don't worry. It's gonna be fine."

The girl pointed at the tin in her pocket.

"You're right, better to be safe." She retrieved the tin, pinched out a dose of powder for each of them, choked down the bitter taste. "With this much, I'll say we have ten minutes before we start feeling airsick."

The girl held close to Jackie as they entered the foyer. She could feel every tremble and quake of her hand. Dark shadows stretched from every nook and cranny, from the ornate cabinets to the brass candelabras on the walls.

The walls creaked, and they both jumped.

"It's just the wood setting in," Jackie said, trying to project a confidence she didn't feel. "It's nothing to worry about."

They moved into the living room, stepping over the thick knotted roots that had grown up through the floorboards.

"We're looking for anything that's useful and not food or water. Tools, batteries, gas, stuff like that."

The girl nodded.

"I'll check upstairs, you stay here, alright? If you see something good or you need my help, shout-" Jackie faltered. "Uh, sorry. You can come along with me, if it'd make you feel safer."

The girl shook her head and moved to the cabinets, opening each drawer one at a time. Jackie nodded and left for the upstairs bedrooms. The whole time, her uncle's words mulled around in the back of her mind.

Don't come home until you've found something good, he'd said. Go make something of yourself.

She had to find something quickly so that the little girl could stay with them. Uncle Andy loved her, cared about her - he just needed a gift every now and then to remind him of that. After eight minutes, her vision had started to get a little fuzzy and her stomach began to turn. At the ninth minute, she found an old plastic flashlight. She was filled with relief.

When she came back down, the girl had found something to show her: a heart shaped locket with no picture inside. She offered it to Jackie, pride written all over her face.

"Keep it," she said. "Good work, but it's not really something they'd want." She remembered the time she'd brought them a bracelet, and how they'd laughed at her. "It's pretty, though. Anyway, I found this." She grinned, displaying the flashlight. "Now we can go."

It took about an hour's walk to leave the city remnants, and by then, Jackie was practically skipping, flashlight in hand.

“We’re almost there,” she said giddily. “It’s going to be great. Uncle Andy always makes this amazing soup for when I come home. Best thing in the world.”

The first sign that something might be wrong was that nobody was waiting for her on the path. Normally, she would’ve heard rowdy voices or music on the way in. Jackie quickened her pace, and the girl struggled to keep up.

Her heart sank when they reached the campsite. The tents were gone and the firepit buried. Nothing was left behind. The picture was clear.

Her family had gone somewhere without her.

She started searching the scattered dirt, looking for a note, or a sign, or something. Some indication of where they’d gone to. There had to be a sign.

The girl watched silently as she kicked away loose soil, hunting for a buried note. If they'd been attacked by scavengers and had to flee, they would've left a note behind. They'd promised.

With every motion, her pulse increased, until her hands were shaking and she wanted to vomit.

And then, at its apex, after what felt like hours, the reality of it set in: that there was no note. There was no sign.

They’d left her behind.

“No,” Jackie whispered, swallowing. “They wouldn’t.” She looked at the empty clearing and shook her head. “They wouldn’t!” She kicked at the ground, knocking dust into the air. She felt sick to her stomach. She felt like screaming, like crying, like throwing up. She threw the flashlight at a tree, dashing the worthless plastic to pieces.

There was an intense ball of emotion inside her, and there was nowhere for it to go except impotent flailing.

A hand grasped at her wrist, and she slapped it away. “They left me behind!” she screamed, her voice echoing across the empty field. "I was good! I did everything right! I gave them everything they wanted! Wasn't that enough?"

The hand grabbed her again, and the second time she didn’t fight back. The girl pried Jackie’s hand open, and slipped something into it. She could barely make it out through blurred eyes.

The heart-shaped locket.

She tried to hand it back. "This is yours," she said, but the girl wouldn't take it. "You found it."

The girl pointed at herself, and then Jackie.

It took a while for Jackie to realize what she was saying. My gift to you.

"You don't have to-"

The girl pulled her into a hug and refused to let go. It felt different from her family's hugs. It felt warm. It felt like a gift instead of a chore. It was freely given. That last part hit her harder than anything else.

They stood together for a long time.

"Thank you," was all she could say.