Radio Silence

The sun looked down over the scorched land. The golden eye of the beholder was on its final hour and prepared to give its watch over to the moon, who refused the patrol and let anarchy chaperon the night. The earth trembled with the vibration of feet put to dirt. A flurry of ill intent rising like a sand storm set to engulf those in its path. The time for finding safety was running short. Homes scorched, turning civilized people back to primal instinct. Those still clinging to the idea the world could spin backward were on the brink of extinction.

Maya's heart thundered in her chest, stealing the air from her lungs. Her feet sank ankle-deep into ash. It gripped her boots like the earth had been trying to pull itself up to run with her. How much further? Where was the end? Her body begged for relief, but she did not know her destination. There was nothing in sight. No small towns left to harbor wanderers. The sun winked overhead, keeping her in its wavering gaze. Run Maya. She willed her body onward. You must keep going. She cried, realizing that will alone would not soothe her aching muscles. She ceased so suddenly her feet slid, kicking up the ash into the air, breathing in the particles with the hot night air. The sun dipped down over the horizon, nesting into its slumber. Maya quieted her racing heart. She closed her eyes and opened her ears. There were no animals to cry in the night, no leaves to sway or dance in the wind. Was it man or beast that made the sound ringing in her ears? Running may have enticed such a thing to chase, but standing still would seal her fate. Fear fueled her run, blinding her body to the tear and strain of her muscles.

Maya's eyes fell upon a house so small she thought it might have been a staging shed. Had it been built for a time such as this? She pushed on the door, praying it would give way, but it didn't. She beat the door. "Please! Someone!" She screamed. If somebody lived here, they would have to hear her plea. Her knuckles numbed from thrashing against the door. "I can pay you for the night!" The door unlatched slowly, casually opening. "Please go on." A voice quivered from inside. It sounded like a man's voice rough from waking suddenly. "I will pay you if you let me say here tonight!" She pushed her hand through the door, a small number of bills clutched in her fist. The door opened fully. The man lifted an eyebrow along with the corner of his mouth. "I'm not running a motel." She couldn't grasp his age, not for sure, but in the range of her own, she assumed. She tucked the money into the front of her shirt, letting the ends hang out of the low-cut blouse. His eyes trailed down following the cash. She nudged herself forward, closing the gap between them. "I don't need to eat any of your food or drink your water." Her eyes caught his. "I would do anything to stay for the night." He made a sound as if he had nearly choked. His eyes shot up to look into the darkness behind her. He grabbed her arm and ushered her inside. The door closed, shutting Maya's fears outside. The man's belongings filled the room to the brim. Bed, kitchen, closet all crammed into a tiny space. He watched her silently, tracing her curves with his eyes, perhaps wondering if he had conjured her up in his mind. Thankfully she embraced him, grateful for his loneliness.

The sun tried to sneak a peek through the window of the stranger's house. It let its beams creep beyond the pane and rest on Maya's soft skin. She stirred hazily, coming back into the land of the living. She sat up, letting her feet dangle off the side of the bed. The table was so close it was as if she had awoken waiting on breakfast to be served. "I'm not a very good cook." The stranger said, setting a plate down in front of her, then went on about his business, acting like her waking in his bed was an everyday occurrence. He sat at the other end of the table, trying to tune an ancient radio; hissing, and popping before landing on a scratchy voice. "It's amazing how far technology had come only to be outlasted by the basics." He lifted his hand, showing off the radio, beaming as if offering her a look at his valuable treasures. Her lips quirked. "It's been years since I've heard a broadcast." Taking a bite from her plate. "You lied when you said you weren't a good cook." She said. He blushed, and she found her cheeks flushed as well. They talked on, knowing the time by the heat of the day. The conversation was light, never diving into uncomfortable or unknown territory. It had not been the first time she had sheltered from the night, but it was the first time she had stayed all morning. She only regarded him as Stranger, and it soon became his name. He kept her engaged in conversation, drawing her words out. He breathed them in like air, enthralled with her presence. Before either had realized, the sun had exhausted once more. The night before, she had thanked him for letting her in. That night he thanked her for staying.

They settled in, growing the way dandelions do in the cracks of concrete. They wanted to put down roots together, but their walls stifled their growth. He had never asked her name nor offered his. He had jokingly called her Ash once, and the name stuck. She would always smile, concealing her inner thoughts. Maya, she would agonize, dreaming of her name on his lips. During the day, he would leave, kissing her before he left and bring dinner before dusk. She imagined him working on the steam line, sweating under the sun. The thought rolled around in her head before disapating. While the idea was pleasant, it was wishful. She had seen the steam line once and the men who worked the rails. He wasn't built like them; he was lean and athletic. Her mind swayed back and forth, dancing with the crackling radio. It was hard to discern music in the static, a note here and there, and the rest filled in by imagination made her heart soar from beyond her body, taking her back to a time before ash and dirt. Had she dreamed the feeling of grass on her feet?

Warm air burst through the door along with the stranger. He beamed like the sun, and she wasn't sure if it were him or the outside air that had heated the temperature. "I bought you something!" His excitement quickly became hers. Dangling from his hand was a heart-shaped locket. Her eyes widened. It wasn't cast from precious metal. It was silver, but the edges were worn, letting nickel shine through. Maya held it to her heart. "It's beautiful!" She looped it around her neck. The radio crackle, bringing in bits and pieces of a woman's voice. The stranger cranked the sound up. He took the words in, scratching the information into his mind. A rebel? He must be a rebel. Dread welled in her soul. If someone were to tell on him... She tried to throw the idea out. No, he had kept alive this long. He was clever enough to hide from authorities. She sighed, letting her worry out into the air. "Are you alright?" He asked, coughing when he spoke. Maya met his gaze and nodded, burying her fear inside.

The radio played non-stop, and the stranger stayed close, listening to the woman's voice. He was enthralled by this woman the same way he with her. He was more of a philanderer than a rebel. Maya covered her head, snuffing out the sound. "Can you please take a break from that?" She groaned. The radio silenced with a click. Her ears rang, adjusting to the soundless ambience. "I didn't know it was bothering you, Ash." Her eyes snapped to his. "That's not my name." She said, eyes narrowing on his. "Don't you want to know what it is, or where I came from, or who I was before this?" She asked. "It doesn't matter? We can't go back to a time before the state. We are what we are now." He said, joining her on the bed. She wanted to bite her tongue, to swallow her anger, but it came out in a bitter hiss. "It matters to me!' She tugged on the locket. "Is this a collar for your pet?" She questioned. Tears formed in her eyes. "You don't have to wear it if you don't want to. It's yours. Do what you'd like with it." He rolled over and pulled the blanket over his shoulder. "You should get some fresh air tomorrow. You are going stir-crazy."

Maya stretched her legs, creating piles of ash at her feet. Her wind-blown hair tumbled down her back. The sun kissed her face softly, keeping her safely in view. She lay down sinking into the earth, ashes to ashes. She closed her eyes, dreaming of snow. Soot fell from the overhead trees like a dusting of her heart's desire. She opened her eyes. A man in a mask gazed down at her. A scorcher weighed down by the equipment use to disfigure the earth. She scrambled to her feet, stirring up a cloud of particles. She screamed, letting her elbow collide with the man's goggles. Glass embedded into her arm. Her mind whirled, sweeping up her feet and pressing the word run unto her chest. She crashed into the safety of the rebel's home, crouching low beneath the window, praying for his safe return. She clutched her elbow and writhed in pain. "Are you hurt?" She snapped her eyes to the doorway. Blood leaked down the stranger's eyes and nose. He tossed his broken lenses on the table, and knelt beside her. Her eyes quivered, awed by him. "You're-" The words caught in her throat, unable to take flight. He ran his hand under his nose, smearing blood across his face. His eyes narrowed on hers. "I thought you knew. What man do you know who is permitted to build on state land or can afford to feed more than himself?" She felt betrayed not by him but by her heart. She wanted so badly to love him she had filled in the blanks with what she wanted and not with what was. "I thought you were a rebel." She admitted. His eyes rolled back. "You rather I be a criminal?" He scoffed. "I doubt I could survive the way you do. If I knocked on someone's door in the middle of the night, would I be let in?" He leaned forward. "I don't know your name. I don't know where you came from or who you were before this. You could go with peace of mind if I bother you. I would never be able to track you or turn you over to the authority." His words lifted her to her feet. "You would let me go?" She asked, unsure she had heard him correctly. "You aren't my prisoner. You knocked on my door and asked to come in." He lifted his hand to the door. "You can leave if you want." If? She clung to the locket as if it were her own heart. "My name is Maya. I'm from Centreville, and before this, I was a botanist." He brushed the ash from her hair. "My mother calls me Cooper, but the troop calls me Standish. I'm from here." He shrugged, lifting his palms. "Before this... I was a very lonely man." He spoke softly in her ear.