Pilgrimage to Hope

The breeze sends a shiver down my spine and I pull my jacket closed. The arid wasteland before me goes on as far as the eye can see. The once-sloping hills have since been eroded beyond recognition, leaving jagged peaks and precariously crumbled roadways for me to scramble over. I remember how lovely these green hills used to be when I was a child, and I close my eyes to savor that memory for a moment.

This used to be a highway. Throngs of people had once travelled in and out of the great city along this thoroughfare, but now it lies desolate. I’m the only one out here, and it’s no wonder why.

Most of the few people left have survived by hiding in underground shelters or retreating far into the mountains. Small pockets of people lie scattered across the countryside, but hardly anyone travels between them. Maybe I’m crazy to be out here, but for me it’s worth it.

The Great Fallout was practically a lifetime ago, and yet it still feels like yesterday to me. I’d only been a little girl at the time, but I can still remember it as clear as day. The smell of toxic smoke burning my lungs and stinging my eyes haunts me. I still can’t even smell a simple campfire without getting flashbacks.

The fires had burned for months and months until we thought we’d never breathe fresh air again. Most people eventually lost hope, but I had to be stronger than that. I wouldn’t give myself the luxury of losing hope.

I look around and make sure there’s no one else out here with me. I see nothing but barren rocks, coarse scrub grass, and dust clouds blowing in the wind. Even so, I remain discreet as I carefully pull at the chain around my neck.

It used to be shiny and golden, but now it’s faded to a dingy green-brown color. I’ve carried this small heart-shaped locket with me every single day since I was separated from my family, but I never let anyone see it. People have become so desperate these days that this little trinket would be stolen in a heartbeat if the wrong people saw it. It’s what’s kept me going, and I couldn’t bear to lose it.

Sometimes I worry I’ll forget what they look like, so I pull it out for just a minute and re-memorize their faces. My mom’s eyes sparkle and her hair falls softly around her face as she smiles at the camera. I think my dad took this picture at a family barbecue or something like that. It was ages ago, but her smile still gives me comfort.

My sister was just a baby at the time. The picture’s so small I can barely even distinguish any details of her face, not that they matter. I’m sure I wouldn’t even recognize her if I saw her today. Her chubby cheeks must have slendered out by now. I wonder if her hair is still golden blonde or if it’s darkened over time like mine did. I wonder if she knows my name or ever asks about me. I wonder if I’ll ever find her.

I snap the locket shut and tuck it back safely into my shirt. I’ll find them eventually; I have to believe that. They’re why I’m doing this. I’ll keep looking for them for as long as it takes. I’ve been going from shelter to shelter in search of them, and I’m not about to stop now.

I carefully slide down some loose rocks to the bottom of the embankment. This decline is steep, but thankfully the path ahead evens out for a while. Once I’ve reached the bottom I look up and marvel at the height of the old bridge towering before me. We still call it the Golden Gate, but no one uses it anymore. It isn’t safe.

I walk out across the dry valley and make sure to stay in the bridge’s long shadow. The atmosphere is thin and my skin burns easily, so I take advantage of all the shade I can find. This used to be a bay, but now it’s just dust. How strange to think that this was once filled with water.

The rubble of the old city lies behind me, and more ragged hills lie ahead. I’ve heard there’s a shelter somewhere on the other side of those hills, and I figure I’ll probably be able to reach it by nightfall as long as I keep up a good pace. I make it over the hills easier than expected and finally come to the very top of the final ridge where I can survey the valley below.

The same broken down roads twist and turn across the valley, surrounded by broken down structures and crumbling buildings. Some still look sturdy enough, but most are unstable and therefore most likely unused.

Off to the right I see a green strip of grass and a few willowy trees growing in a tight clump. There must be a creek or underground spring of some kind. That’s definitely where survivors would have gathered, I think that’s my best shot.

I wind my way down into the valley and then head in the direction of the little green strip. I find an old paved road heading in that direction and follow it for as long as I can. Even a broken down pavement is easier and faster to cross than open country, and it buys me enough time to get there before dark.

I always get a nervous flush of excitement whenever I come to a new place. Every new shelter is a chance to find them, or at least a step closer. All the what-if’s flood my mind, but I have to push them back down again. The chances of them being here are low, and I can’t let myself hold too tightly onto any hopes or expectations.

The gurgle of trickling water reaches my ears as I approach the small camp. The sound alone is refreshing, and is a welcome change from the dry, dusty road behind me. A small cluster of tents and tin shelters surround the creek, and on the other side I see a series of sheds made of old glass windows held together by ropes, cords, and zip ties. A very clever solution to the unpredictable temperatures and erratic winds we’ve all grown used to. A couple of the larger tents sit with the flaps open and I can see people inside as I approach.

“Hello!” I wave and make sure I’m seen even from a distance.

You can’t be too careful these days, especially with strangers. The last thing I need is a trigger happy guard thinking I’m a threat before I get the chance to introduce myself.

A thin old woman emerges from the tent and wraps a covering around her face to shield it from the hot sun.

“Hello!” She waves back. That’s a good sign.

“I’m traveling through the area looking for my family.” I explain as I approach. “May I come in?”

“Yes of course, come in, come in.” She beckons me.

I’m welcomed into the community tent and finally get to peel off some of my layers. I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I unwrap my face covering and breathe in the fresh air. The air quality on the open road is toxic, but being by the water helps keep it relatively clean and safe.

The woman grabs a tea kettle off of the little campfire outside and pours the steamy brown liquid into two little, chipped cups.

“Come, sit.” The woman invites as she sits down on a cushion.

Old, thread-bare rugs are patchworked together to form a floor, and a circle of cushions are spread out around the tent for people to recline on. A few people in one corner are playing a game with old, faded cards. I can tell they’re watching me and listening to our conversation, but I don’t blame them for being curious. Another woman is lying down nearby fanning herself to keep cool. She watches me closely as I sit down.

The woman hands me one of the cups and takes a sip from her own. “Where are you traveling from?”

“I’ve travelled for so long I can hardly tell where I began.” I muse. “I was separated from my family during the Great Fallout and I’ve been looking for them ever since. But along the way I heard of a colony up North, and I’m hoping they would have ended up there.”

“I've heard stories of the colony too.” The woman lights up. “Up along the Sacramento River. A trader came through here about a month ago and said the land has started to produce on its own again.”

The excitement in her voice and twinkle in her eyes match the hope in my heart. Everyone I’ve asked has had stories to tell of the colony and, more importantly, what it represents. Meager food rations have been grown in crude greenhouses like the ones outside, but they require intense labor and are often less than fruitful. If some part of the land has truly started to grow on its own again then that means there’s hope for the rest to be restored too.

“I can only barely remember what grassy hills used to look like,” I reminisce. “I hope it’s something like that.”

“It’s been a long time since I saw a wide open field or sat under a blue sky.” The woman closes her eyes and smiles sweetly to herself as she savors the memory. “We were so busy back then we usually missed all the little moments, but now I’d give anything to dance in the rain or sleep under the stars again.”

I love hearing stories like this from people old enough to remember. Most of my hopes are based in my imagination of what nature might be like, but sometimes when I hear others’ memories I can step into them as if they were my own. All those things this woman is hoping to relive, I’m hoping to experience for the first time. The chances are low, but if there’s any chance at all then it’s one I need to pursue.

“You could come with me and see for yourself.”

The woman opens her eyes and returns to the present moment. “That’s a beautiful idea, but I’m afraid such a journey isn’t for me. I’m not in my prime anymore, and I have a life here to keep on living as best I can.”

My heart grows sad to see her unable to chase after her hopes the way I’m chasing after mine, but I understand her reasoning. She’s found a little world here worth investing in. She’s worked hard to create a home, and home isn’t something to be given up lightly.

“I understand.”

“I’m glad you can go, though.” The woman smiles warmly. “Go see if all the stories we’ve heard are true. Run in the grass for me, if you can.”

“That would be a miracle.” I whisper longingly.

The woman nods. “And I hope for your sake that it holds the miracle you’ve been looking for too.”

My family. That would truly be the biggest miracle of all.

The next morning I prepare for the next leg of the journey ahead of me. The small community graciously sends me with some food rations for the journey and asks that I send word if I ever do find the colony.

The kind old woman comes out to wish me well. “I hope you find everything you’re looking for.”

I hope so too. I turn north and follow the road they pointed out to me. A little white flower growing out of a crack in the pavement catches my eye and I smile. Another day lies ahead, and another step closer to my destination.