A Little Dry

Nikki sifted through the heap of degraded trash searching for a glass bottle. The Spirits knew even a plastic container would work at this point. At 45 degrees centigrade one couldn't be picky about a receptacle. There wasn't much left anywhere anymore though, and this made her anxiety peak as the thought passed through her mind. There was little she could do given the time of day, and finding another trash pile or garbage dump within a couple miles walk was almost chanceless. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her dusted torn rag and looked longingly at the rubbish in front of her. She was worn, hungry, ragged, and desperate. It had already been near 2 days since she had passed out near her shelter fire and shattered her last glass bottle. Having taken a drink from a brackish puddle in an old underground car park, the result of which had been intense bowel discomfort, she was angry at herself for her lapse of attention. She had lost friends for less stupidity, hence her current lonely position in the world. she scooped, and dug trying to conserve what she had left for energy. The situation was made even more ironic given the enormous amount of fatty meat she had in her sack having laid waste to a large feral hog earlier in the week. Most of which had been carefully cured and smoked in her encampment a fair sight into the hills, a straight shot north from her current location. Salt was a precious commodity, one she was precarious enough to stumbled upon while perusing an abandoned hostel sometime ago. There had been thousands of individually wrapped packets just stacked in multiple boxes in a mostly collapsed section of the former kitchen. It had lasted her quite a while now, and she was still so proud of herself for having obtained near literal gold worth of currency, and life sustaining support. A crush red plastic cup made a crinkling and cracking sound that snapped her from her day dream of long past triumphs. Only long enough to allow the disappointment to settle over again.

"What a bitter way to spend my day." She thought.

The toll a lack of water takes on a person is immense in a short amount time. Especially within a climate as harsh as the Newer Earth had to offer. The frantic and sporadic thoughts of a brain lacking hydration is a concerning and demoralizing experience. Of the luckily only handful of life threatening situations Nikki had been placed into, lack of water was the most encountered and the scariest. Her kidneys throbbed, and her stomach gave another churn as it clamored for any amount of liquid relief. Heaving a swath of decimated cloth aside, a resounding metallic clunk came from the heap of filth as it hit the decrepit and sun scorched asphalt that the ruins of this little remaining cityscape called passageway through. In her oblivious state, Nikki disregarded the sound for small bit of time continuing to dig and heave refuse at an increasingly frenzied rate. It wasn't until a chunk of clotted up dirt disturbed the pile of textile remains, and buffeted the metallized container loose of it's former dirt encasing, that she really paid it any attention. A silver canteen lay glittering in the unforgiving sun. Nikki scamper over and snatched the gilded vessel from the ground, utter disbelief befalling her depressed and forlorn demeanor.

"Oh Spirits. Oh Spirits, thank you. Thanks you so much." she rasped as she lapsed into racking sobs.

"Gram, I know this was you. Thank you for guiding this gift to me."

She took a salt packet from her drab and haggard cargo pants and offered it to her Grandmothers' Spirit, pouring its' contents into the much welcomed and newly arisen breeze now passing over her grimy, sweat laden face. Casting her gaze into the direction of the now setting sun, she whispered more ragged and dry praise to her Grandmothers lingering presence she now felt enveloping her. She then began the long trek back to the shelter with her deeply treasured boon cradled like a swathed newborn in the folded crook of her arms. Another blessed bounty from the Spirits of Old Earth allowing her more Gifted Time.

Carefully descending back down into the dilapidated car park, Nikki attentively placed her feet into the crags and holds created by the rubble. She was surefooted there was no doubt, and climbing had always been a strong suit of hers, even as a child. Often scaring her Grandmother and her Father by scaling wreckage or when found, the barren and warped trees that scattered the arid landscape. One of the traits that made her so successful at the task was never being too sure of her ability or her terrain and thus always ready, and mindful of where she was in the endeavor. She clamored down the last bit of the slope, gracefully entering the vacant cavity. Allowing her eyes to adjust, Nikki carefully grabbed the hand forged blade held in the tanned leather sheath strapped to her hip. While sure this place was still vacated, much like her climbing vigilance, she never allowed herself to be too sure. The credo was one her Father had instilled within her mindset at a very young age. Never be too sure of anything. Sureness yielded complacency, and being complacent ensured an end to ones Gifted Time. Typically a miserable end at that. After sitting a spell and allowing the darkness to become a legible sight, she crossed the lot heading to the sunken divot she had previously discovered held water. Waterholes were scare and typically occupied by wildlife, Ravers, or Corpse Weavers. Ravers could generally be traded with or persuaded to allow refills, but Corpse Weavers thrived on The Hunt, and were quick to kill and consume the flesh. Father 's words echoed through time, reminding her to stay away from there posted lands at all cost. Corpse Weavers actually held claim to vast expanse of land through Dry Valley, and even a good swath of purchase throughout the mountains. Their use of an Old Earth animal known as Pigeons made them formidable force, as they could relay information to tribes within their territories at a fairly quick pace. Word of your arrival to the stead could be learned of in a matter of hours, or mere minutes in the worst of cases, leading to band of collectors catching you unaware without a moments notice. Father had known of the skills the Pigeon Wielders hoarded and even killed for, and been resolute about teaching Nikki the skills to identify their signs.

Kneeling beside the deep recess of sludgy and stagnant water, Nikki filled the container to its maximum capacity quickly and with fervor, hurriedly fastening the top while keenly surveying her surroundings best she could. This was not a place to be caught unaware, and certainly not somewhere to be trapped in. While cool, and damp was a refreshing change from arid, and dry, darkness was never your friend. Darkness is where the Felled dwell, and are truly a horror a person did not want to register as an encounter having been survived. There were lingering effects from crossing the path of a Felled. Father had never recovered from his own confrontation. He never detailed the experience to anyone in the tribe, but he began deteriorating soon after; with his hair graying rapidly, and skin sagging from his body like rags draped across a drying rack haphazardly. Nikki recalled the day his teeth had all fallen out, and the image flashed in front of her eyes as she began the walk back to the exit of the cavernous old lot. It remained too long at the forefront of her thoughts as she traipsed through the dark sending shivers across her whole body.

"A goose just walked over my grave," she thought haplessly to herself. A bit too poignant a thought given her current surroundings. Reaching the slope, she made sure she had secured the canteen in place in her loose rag sack she used as a backpack. She had become almost covetous of the bottle in their short time together. It was, after all, her only means of survival currently. Climbing, she pushed the macabre thoughts that had begun to manifest away and paid attention to the task at hand. One hand in front of the other. One foot at a time. She left the collapsed concrete and emerged into a dim and reddish evening, the days heat finally giving way to the timid and somewhat biting chill of the dusk air now caressing her. She had left all her warmer clothing back at the encampment having planned on leaving the search for a container earlier. She lamented her earlier frenzied state, but was still glad of the outcome regardless. Her prize swayed heavily in her bag almost congratulating her on her end result. She sure was thirsty. She smiled knowing she would drink heartily back home tonight. She quickened her pace leaving the glaring hole behind her as she went.

It wasn't quite dark when she reached the hidden path to her encampment, but it was dark enough she again chastised herself for having become so frayed in the moment earlier. She only lapsed into regret for moment though as she rounded the track to her meager accommodations. A brief survey of the space told her all was still in place, and she slipped in the camouflaged rift in the rocks she called called the entrance to her home.

While humble her place of rest was far from ill equipped. Having the stored resources from a couple generations past, and the new additions she had added in her own wanderings, Nikki was actually rather fortified with wares. On her own for only a few months of her 27 years and those months only being the nearest few, she had plenty to survive with as far as appliances and tools. Gardening tools her Grandmother had taught her to utilize, adorned the disorderly and slightly misshapen shelves lining the spacious and rocky walls of the underground chamber. While unable to garden close to the cave, they were still very useful for establishing a secret garden further up the mountain where a small creek of nearly nonexistent mountain runoff kept a sparse few patches of tenable, fertile soil running. This was one of the many gifts The Spirits of the Old Earth had granted her Grandmother before Nikki's Gifted Time had begun.

Nikki placed her sack upon the ground near one of the half dozen chairs her Father had made throughout his life, and pulled the canteen from the bag. she then began the process of bow drilling a fire in the small hearth in the back of the cavern that held a small crack leading further under the earth. This lent the ability to maintain a reasonable fire, while still concealing location. Another Gift. Nikki genuinely felt Blessed by the Spirits for all these Gift her Father, her Grandmother, and Herself had received throughout the years. She was deeply thankful in this moment as the water slowly but surely reached a rolling boil. She used an iron pair of tongs, leftovers from her Fathers forging days, to pull the bubbling liquid from the fire, and set it aside to cool. Pulling a strip of salted pork from the steel cache made so many years before her time she couldn't even recall the story of its' attainment, she ate greedily of the tough but satisfying fatty flesh. Her stomach made huge announcements of its approval as she did so. Careful not to overfill her belly, lest she risk a stomach ache or intestinal distress she drank heartily of the tepid liquid which was the most cherished gift she could remember receiving in all her Gifted Time.

Sometime later she lay in dark, a not too uncommon occurrence, relishing in her fullness. She thought back to times less lonely, and unforgiving; surrounded by friends and family. She recalled playing with Jarred and Tate. Fishing with Rachel and Tammy. cooking with Grandmother and Father. All had been lost to time or scarcity. The call for survival taking many from the once prosperous. albeit small. mountain community. Rachel and Tammy had fled when the largest freshwater spring on the mountain had run dry some ten summers previous. Tate had found a lover and left to join Raver at the end of Dry Valley to provide for his growing family. Grandmothers Time had run out nearly five full years ago now. All these waves of nostalgia and more left Nikki a sobbing and hollow wreck as she nursed a nourished and hydrated stomach into unsettled, unrestful sleep.

In her dream Nikki stood amidst the most lavish forest her eyes had ever beheld. Specks of dirt drifted through beams of facile, undemanding sunlight. The hues of green were almost overbearing, having never witnessed such luxuriant fertility. Crystal clear, and even seeming cool and refreshing water bubbled from stream to the left of her, and an illuminated, spacious field of brilliant and exuberant flowers flourished to the right of her. She gazed down and was surprised that she was standing on cobblestone pathway leading to massive wooden spiraled staircase leading up and around the side of a massive, and seemingly ancient tree. There was a pressure in the air that beckoned she move forward along the path to the stairs, a familiar and familial feeling. Spirits were guiding her and she could feel it deeply within the core of her self. She walked along, gaping wondrously at the intensely vivid feel of the finely worn stones beneath her infrequently but now bare feet. Reaching the stairs she was marveled more amazingly at the sheer size of the stairs rounding the tree. From pictures and old magazines her Father had coveted more closely than any other treasure she knew this was fir tree of some kind, the name of which she had never committed to memory for lack of necessity to do so.

It took her some time in the dream to pull herself up the massive steps, but she did with ever more increasing intrigue as to why she was being conducted to ascend this immense pathway. It seemed like hours later she finally reached the summit of her climb, to find an open deck, surrounded with ornate, but degrading woodwork railings all around open expanse of flooring. Large patches of moss covered these boards even more so than the steps Nikki had just climbed. In some places she could see down to the forest floor through holes blotted across the deck. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, causing a not undesirable flutter in her chest. Across the way she spotted an opening in the form of an open, heavily mossed over, decorative doorway; appearing to have been built in a monstrous natural hollow in the tree, following the curvature perfectly.

Nikki crossed to the door, cautiously avoiding the rotting holes in the floorboards of the decking. Entering was again an overwhelmingly vivid experience, as sunlight cascaded through large glassless windows, heaving emerald luminescence throughout the chamber. Inside was absolutely massive and teeming with shelves. Each expanse of shelving was meticulously aligned in rows and columns that seemed to stretch beyond feasible comprehension. She came to the unconventional conclusion, this place was much larger on the inside than it was on the outside. She didn't allow herself to dwell on this revelation very long, as she was still being compelled forward.

Nikki continued on still very aware of the footing around herself as the floor was more decrepit here than it had been outside. Following her intuition she travelled down long and narrow pathways between the vast amount of racks, all of which were overburdened with mossy coverings. She recognized that upon the sills of the shelves were books also being overtaken by the lichen growing unendingly across nearly ever surface. She had never properly learned to read, Father had said other skills necessary for survival were first and foremost priority, so she had a loose understanding of reading, and she did her best as she went along to try and glean what she could. Some things stood out, the world apple and seed, easily pronounced. Others were beyond her comprehension, like Brooklyn, whatever that meant, or Detroit. The latter word being absolutely out side of her abilities.

Still following compulsion, she turned and found herself amid less dilapidated, and moss ridden shelves. The tomes here were fresh looking as of fairly newly printed. If she had any concept of this, she would have been curious as to who or how, maybe even why, but as it was she was simply astounded by the mere existence of all it, even if it was a dream. Rounding the end cap of a particularly shining, and glossy wooden shelf containing books that said things like "Tate" and "Rachel". Words she recognized as friends. While curious, the compelling feeling she could not shake wouldn't let her touch them. Memorized by the words she understood and fascinated by the feeling of being guided, she failed to see the stooped and incredibly tall, shadowed figure at the end of the row.

When Nikki finally peeled her eyes from the books, it was too late to even want to get away from the figure. She saw it and wanted to scream, but only as a result of the sheer surprise of him (it was a him she saw that immediately) being there. He stood to full height as she approached, and was shocked by just how tall he really was. She was near 6 feet, whoever this figure was loomed over her by a solid 3 feet. His face was gaunt and well tanned skin pulled tight. His mouth was astonishingly thin and was adorned with a small but long patch of graying hair jutting out of his chin just below his lower lip.

"Hola mija.'' he said, startling Nikki even more. His voice was gruff, but smooth, and somehow comforting. She was awash with a feeling of home she hadn't felt before, nor could quite place as an emotion.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Nikkie blurted. She did not in the least understand what he had just said to her.

"My apologies Mija. I have not spoken, other than to myself, for sometime." he chuckled at this, like it was inside joke she was supposed to be in on. She found it hard to understand the way he spoke, but she could at least make out the statement this time.

"It's okay," she uttered, then more confidently, "I have not spoken to anyone either. I mean, I talk to Grandmother all the time, but that's different I guess." She found solace in her own voice addressing another person. Just how lonely she had been dawned on her.

"I know niña. I hear your Messages. I bring them myself for you." He knelt almost paternally. "Your abuela loves you very much, and is very thankful for your words." There was an air of sadness in his voice Nikki didn't much care for.

"But I speak to her directly. The Spirits..." she trailed off.

"Aww Mija, that is how it once was. So much disconnect in the world. Your voice, sus palabras, just cannot reach the Spirit World. It is too far away now." He said this in the same tone here father and used when he taught her that fire was hot, or water meant life. It was just a statement of fact; of what was.

"Why is it this way? What do you mean?" she inquired. Nikki was smart and incredibly resourceful but this was too much for her to grasp as a n abrupt declaration of how things are. Cognitive dissonance is a powerful thing.

"I'm sorry niña, there's just not enough time. You will wake soon, and I have a message for you. Tu Abuela, your Grandmother, she tells you the time has come to leave mija. you must go east Nick Nack, out of the Dry Valley. Go where Pamola flies free, and the boulders point touches the sky. There is a life for you there, and your Gifted Time can run long."

Nikki marveled at this message passed to her. Only Grandmother had ever called her Nick Nack. A name from Old Earth that meant something like treasure. Grandmother had told Nikki of trinkets that her own mother had collected on shelves in their old home. The tall, dark man bent again and pushed something into Nikki's hand. Just as she was about to ask another question, she suddenly found herself staring at the ceiling of her cavern, drenched in sweat, clutching a small stone figurine in her hand.

To be Continued.