Nuclear Heartlands

Maya silently waded through the murky water that was now at her hips, the raft she had assembled using an array of decaying objects found on the drylands was now tied to her waist with a thin length of worn rope. It felt heavier as the time wore on, as if she were dragging it through a thick and reeking soup. Bits of plastic and floating rubbish brushed passed her bare legs as she arduously moved through the depths. Maya’s search for food was getting critical, she was hungry. Famished. It had been around three days since Maya last ate, at least it felt like three – the sky never brightened, nor did it darken. She was starting to believe that the whole earth was now shrouded in this murky twilight, covered by clouds that rained ash but never water. She looked up. The black clouds rolled eerily overhead like catastrophic waves. Maya tried to take a deep breath of the muggy air but instead spluttered and coughed as the pollution irritated her air passage. How much more could the toxicity build up before we can no longer breathe? The despairing thought ran across her mind. Maya had traded her gas mask in for food many weeks prior, the remorse gripped her.

Not much dry land remained since the sea levels had risen and engulfed the lowlands. The drylands had been decimated by nuclear attacks, and the soil, now a toxic sludge had not produced crops of any kind for what must have been months, maybe even years. Instead, a gruesome tentacled ivy sprawled across the debris, iridescent in colour. It seemed to be the only thing that thrived on nuclear waste.

Maya looked down to the water, she was unable to see beyond an inch into its depth – the thick inky soup showed no sign of life. Her toes tried to grip the slimy tar as she pushed passed seaweed and shoals of plastic bags suspended in the water. Her energy was wearing thin as the heavy water zapped her of her strength. If I don’t find food to-day, it might be my last, Maya was trying to contain the intrusive thoughts that were slowly filling her with hopelessness, but she was losing the battle. Her head spun. She stopped to search the surface of her raft for her near-empty water vessel. Fresh and clean water was a rarity, traders on the dryland had found a way to desalinate the contaminated seawater but asked a heavy price per litre, Maya had already given away her last item of value – the pocketknife her father had gifted her before he had gone to fight with the rebels and before nuclear wars had erupted all over the earth. Maya pressed the vessel against her dry lips to inhale the last drops of liquid. She closed her eyes and pictured her smiling father – the sight sent a chill through her body as she gulped, and a tear rolled forth from her eye.

The traders were not good people. People that had lived this long after the wars were seldom good people, the need to survive at any cost now dominated the human instinct. Maya knew there were cannibals and human traffickers among the traders, the pocketknife she had to trade in felt like the last line of her defence. She was exposed now. She was prey. If only she could take the knife back and feel as though her father, her shield, was with her again.

Swallowing her fear, Maya trudged on through the thick water trying to remain unheard and unseen, she tried to keep the banks of the dryland in relatively close proximity so as not to drift off into unchartered territory. Apart from the ivy and the slimy seaweed below, Maya had not encountered anything living for days. On the raft she had a few hunting spearheads that she had knapped herself from rock. She reached out and grabbed a spearhead and clenched it tight inside her fist, the sharp edges pressing against her skin. If there was going to be a hunt, it would have to be now, thought Maya. Now or never.

A few hours must have passed, and Maya was giving up the fight for food. She inched forward until suddenly her foot encountered a rocky surface which took her by surprise, she slid backwards into the water, now fully submerged, the spearhead flew out of her hand. She frantically struggled to get a grip on the ocean floor and push herself back up, but her left hand was caught in a tight chain. After a few seconds of desperate tugging, she broke free, and in the same instant about 5 fish, the size of human hands shot passed her body. She flew out of the water, still holding the chain and feverishly gazing in all directions to spot the fish. There was nothing, Maya was alone again. Filthy water gushed from her unkempt hair and ran down her body, she dropped her head despairingly until her eyes caught sight of the chain still swinging from her fist, it glinted in the gloomy light. She pulled it closer to her eyes, from the end of the chain hung a perfectly crafted heart-shaped locket.

Maya gazed in amazement at the silver locket that seemed to shine so bright in the absence of light. She rubbed her fingers over the etched surface to remove the dirt that had accumulated underwater; she passed it between her fingers. Maya’s feelings of exhaustion and extreme hunger seemed to fade while staring at her beautiful find, she thought of how she could trade the item for water and maybe even food. Her fingers found the clasp on the side of the locket, with no effort at all the locket clicked open into two halves. She squinted. There were photos inside, faces. Maya struggled against the light, she found a young girl with long brown hair in the left half, she had a familiar face and Maya pondered for a moment. She glanced across to the other side, there was an older woman with the same brown hair and striking beauty. Maya gasped; eyes widened she felt like her heart skipped a few beats – she could hardly believe her eyes:

“Mum!”, Maya cried, the locket now an inch from her face.

“Hey, there’s a girl down there, quick, snatch her!”

Maya froze, she was now exposed and there was nowhere to hide. The hunters were here.

_______________________________

To be continued