The Line

She waited in line.

Every so often the line would shuffle forward a few paces, the parched ground beneath their feet releasing dust into the air. There was no talking, not because it was forbidden, but because there was nothing to say. They all waited in line. That was what they did.

She generally kept her eyes fixed to the back of the head in front of her, or down to the ground. The dusty, dry ground was what most of them knew best. There were a few bits of greenish brown plants struggling for existence here and there, but mostly it was just dirt. That's simply how life was now: dust, dirt, and lines. So many lines.

She didn't know any of the people she waited in line with. She recognized some faces, but she didn't know them. People didn't talk to each other much these days, and she spoke less than most. When she did, it was typically a monosyllable. “Yes.” “No.” “Stop.” Mostly she could get by with a simple gesture, though, so she simply didn't speak. Nothing to say.

The line shuffled forward again. Someone behind her coughed. She tried to think of what she was in line for this time. Food? Water? Maybe this time it was the ever elusive line to a better place, whatever that meant. She wasn't sure, but it must be an important line, though. Otherwise there wouldn't be so many people in it. She assumed there were a lot of people in the line, anyway. She didn't look. She knew there was a head in front of her, and there was a shadow from behind her on the ground. That's as far as her situational awareness extended these days. It didn't matter who they were. When the one in front of her left, it was her turn to hold out her hands and be handed....something. A bowl with some thin gruel, maybe a jug of water. Once she was handed a blanket. It was a heavy, woolen blanket, scratchy and uncomfortable. But it was warm enough during the cold nights.

If she looked past the head in front of her she might glimpse the city in the distance, gleaming in the oppressive sunlight. She remembered living in a city, once. At least, she thought she could remember it. Maybe not. Her memory wasn't what it used to be. Or maybe it was, she couldn't remember. She might have grinned at her joke, but her face couldn't remember how. She shuffled forward again.

It wasn't always like this. That much she knew. Once things were better. The ground was fertile, and plants grew everywhere. She had seen pictures. The cities were open to everyone, and people traveled from place to place every day. They had houses, and...she searched for the word. Families. Yes, that's it. Families. She had a family once. She was certain of that. She remembered another woman, older. Mom. There was a man, too. And a...brother? She was less certain about that, but she was pretty sure she could vaguely remember her mom, and was there someone else...? Her face twitched a bit, maybe the corners of her mouth turning up briefly? But now it was hard to see. Oh. Water in her eyes. Better not lose it, water is hard to get these days.

She tried to put any thoughts of her family out of her mind. Thinking about them made her feel things that she didn't want to feel. It was better to just shuffle along in the lines and not think, not feel.

She stepped forward again.

It was hot. It was always hot during the day now. The sun beat down relentlessly, as there were rarely clouds in the sky anymore. Nighttime was a welcome respite from the heat, but the cloudless skies did little to retain it, so the nights were cold. Sometimes she could even see her breath at night, when the moon shed enough light to see by. The tents they all lived in helped a little, but her wool blanket helped the most. She both hated and loved that blanket. It was so scratchy, and made her skin turn red and itchy, but it kept her warm. She could also hide under it, cowering in her own corner of the tent. Sometimes when she was under her blanket she looked at the only thing she owned that reminded her of her old life. Around her neck she wore a small, heart shaped locket. She couldn't remember where she got it. Found it somewhere, maybe. Inside was a picture of a woman and a baby. She didn't know who they were. It didn't really matter who they were, either. They simply were. The woman in the picture was pretty enough, she thought. She looked happy. It was the only happy expression she saw these days. In fact, without the locket, she wouldn't even know that “happy” was a thing.

The locket was her most treasured possession, and she didn't know why. It must be because of the happy expression on the woman's face. It was a reminder of a time long gone.

Her eyes flicked forward, just for an instant. She could see the soldiers ahead, handing out today's prize, whatever it might be. She wondered how one got to become a soldier, handing out goods to the poor wretches here in the wastelands. They must come from the city, she thought idly. It was mostly hidden behind the aid tent now, but she saw the sun shining from the glittering roof of one of the giant buildings in the distance. Afterimages danced in her vision, blinding her momentarily. She heard shuffling feet in front of her, murmurs of voices. The words didn't reach her brain, only the sound.

Her vision cleared, and she saw that she was at the head of the line. The woman in the locket stepped forward and held out her hands, praying she would be handed her long-gone baby once again.