Tomorrow

Tomorrow.

The rhythmic sound of the wheels bouncing mix with the swirling melodies of the wind and quiet sobbing to lull me into a restless sleep. I jostle awake every few minutes, bumps in the road battling with exhaustion.

I wake to a coughing fit and quickly bury my face in my knees, arms wrap around top trying to stifle the sound. While I have no desire to know, I am compelled to pull the rag back from my face. More red speckles. The back of my hand brushes the rest off my cracked lips before pulling the rags back over my mouth and nose. I scratch, the back of my neck, my Dust covered hair, and allow my fingers to pass over my chest as I move from one armpit to the other. It’s still there, sitting in a hidden pocket against my breast.

Hands and feet extended, I stretch (a vain attempt to ease my aching muscles) and put my feet back over the side of the cart, hands gripped to the bars. Not much wind today, but the breeze still manages to blow the Dust into my eyes, stinging them. I’m not used to the sensation, my old goggles were good. It pains me to look back and see them on the eyes of Thief riding on his camel.

My eyes close, nothing to see but the swirling tan anyway.

Hours go by before the first scuffle. I hear the voice of a woman, someone new. I think we picked her up yesterday.

“Please!! We’re dying, we’ll be no good to you dead!” she screams.

My eyes open and look to her. Her back is to me, I see only rags. I don’t know why I look when fate is already written.

Thief runs his camel up holding a canteen in an outstretched hand towards her. Arms press through the bars reaching for the water, desperate. He grabs her wrist, twists and yanks it to him, Thief’s other hand reaches through the bars and around her neck, his paw swallowing it whole.

“Quiet!” he shouts in a whisper through clenched teeth. “Quiet! Are you trying to bring Mosquitos?!” She goes limp but he holds on, staring into the cage, scanning each of us silently with fury in his eyes. Eventually he lets go, her lifeless body slumps to the wood floor.

No one says anything. We ride on.

Tomorrow.

***

The wagons stop. Guards dismount their camels. I see four figures approach the caravan, appearing about fifty feet away as they emerge through the fog of the Dust. One comes to the wagon in front of us and speaks through a window in hushed tones while the guards surround the other three. I can’t make out the words. Thief walks to the wagon window, nods, and heads to the back of the caravan. He comes back with a bag and skin of water, hands both to the stranger and the stranger walks off, disappearing into the tan once more.

Guards guide the three newcomers to the caged wagons, two to the back and one to mine. The gate opens and Gloves shoves the newcomer in, pulls out the dead woman, locks the gate and throws her to the side of the wagon. Guards silently mount their camels and each raises a hand high in the air, except Gloves, he pats down the woman’s corpse first. Finding nothing of interest, he mounts and puts his arm in the air, the caravan lurches forward again.

Where did he get those gloves? I wonder. Hard to find now.

The newcomer looks around the cage. He is old, too old. Eyes are sunken into their sockets above gaunt cheeks with stretched, leather skin. We lock eyes and I quickly look away, too late. He approaches.

“Is this your story?” he whispers behind me, his voice feeble, dry and raspy.

I turn around and glare at him, but he doesn’t get the hint.

“Is this your story boy?” I am not a boy.

“No point talking to him, he’s mute” whispers Braid. “And you shouldn’t be talking anyway, that woman he killed made too much noise.”

The old man turned to Braid, a trembling, boney hand reaching out to point at her chest. “Is this your story?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, now shut up old man!”

I hear hooves stamping in the Dust and look out the bars to see Thief staring into our cage.

“Quiet!” he bellows as softly as he can, and holds up a single finger to Bones. “Warned.” Thief tugs on the reins and lets his camel fall back to his position. Bones sighs, feebly drops to his hands and knees and twists around to sit next to me.

“I’m just trying to figure out whose story this is.”

Another coughing fit takes me and I quickly bury my mouth in my rag covered arms, trying to mute the sound. It passes and I look up, Bones is staring at me.

“I don’t think it’s yours.”

I close my eyes, the stinging in them subsides.

***

Creak

It came from the wagon behind us, I look just in time.

CRACK!

A wheel breaks off, the axle drives into the dirt and the wagon grinds to a halt. Its driver looks up in panic as the other guards stare at him. It’s been so long since I felt anything other than pain and hunger, I had forgotten what this was.

Fear.

Maybe today?

“RUN!!” shouts Thief. The wagon jolts forward as the Guards whip their camels into a gallop.

“DON’T LEAVE ME!” Screams the driver. Even over the thunder of wheels and hooves I can hear the high pitched whine speed towards the broken wagon. Gunshots ring out as we speed away.

Thief waves his arm to get our driver’s attention, then points ahead and to his right. I follow his finger.

I see a glow. Not just the ever-present tan, but a blue glow pushing its way through the tan.

What?

The wagon ahead veers towards the glow and ours follows, Thief and Gloves whip their camels to run faster. I look around the cage and see everyone cowering in the front, next to the wood wall separating us from the driver and I join them.

The whine from the Mosquitos can be heard again now, coming closer, but there was no seeing them through the Dust. Rapid gunshots pierce the tan. Gloves and his camel tumble in the dirt.

I look to my left at Thief, wondering if he’ll fall next, panic rising in my chest. Only now I see the tan is changing, the blue glow pushing against it.

Shots ring out, but not from the Mosquitos. Loud. Huge. Cannons. I see small explosions in the sky behind us.

Can it be…

Everyone slows down and the wagon turns. I see it, but how? It’s a myth.

We’re next to a glass wall, blue light pouring out. Inside I see buildings, towers, the glass curves around in all directions. Inside its… clean. No Dust.

The Dome.

It exists!

Thief comes up to a flat spot on the glass, pushes his thumb against something and speaks. Not a whisper. My heart pounds with excitement.

“Lampeer, shipment.”

The flat spot slides up, and the wagons pass through.

Cool air wraps around me, my fingers tremble as I hold them out beyond the bars. I take the rags off my face and suck in the freshest air my lungs have ever had as watch my hands tremble in shock. I look at Thief, he sees me then gestures in a wide arc.

“Hepa.”

People swirl around the cage in beautiful, clean, brightly colored clothing, none daring a glance through the bars. None of them have their faces covered.

The wagons stop and the cages open. Men in tan uniforms gesture for us to come out, all of them speaking loudly, without fear of the Mosquitos.

“Out! Out all of you let’s go!”

We file out of the cage and are pushed into a building. It’s whole, not broken or crumbling, a gleaming white. In front of us walks a person in purple trousers and cape, the person from the front wagon, I’m sure of it. The building is gigantic, tall columns rise to meet a huge domed ceiling. We are shoved into a room off the main chamber, tan uniforms surround us.

Purple looks back at the group. “None of you will make any trouble for me, understood?”

A man in a cream suit comes out of a side door and Purple hands him a stack of papers. Suit leafs through them then looks at us.

“Do any of you contest the terms of your contract?”

“What?” whispers Braid, confused.

“Your contract! The ones you signed with Mr. Lampeer, do you any of you contest the terms?”

Knuckles raises his hand to the air timidly, his missing fingers reaching past his sleeve.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You signed this Contract of Servitude with Mr. Lampeer did you not?”

“I… I never signed anything.”

Purple glares at Knuckles, his lips pierce and nostrils flare with rage.

Suit sighs. “Fine then.” He raises his hand, a glowing square on his wrist coming to his lips. “We have one Your Honor.”

A wood panel opens on the far side of the room, and fat man in black robes walks out, plopping himself down in a giant chair. He waves his hand, annoyed.

“This court is called to order, the Honorable Judge Preston presiding.”

“Who objects to their contract?”

Suit points at Knuckles.

“That one.”

“What are the grounds of your objection?”

Knuckles looks around, confused. “I… I never signed anything.”

The Judge waves Suit forward and takes a piece of paper, holds it up and points to a scribble. “This is not your signature?”

“N-no sir.”

“Do you have any documentation proving your claims?”

“I… what?”

“Documentation! A bill, a check, anything with your signature that can prove this to be a forgery?”

“No I… I was in the Dust.”

“Without counter evidence this court finds in favor of the Contract holder. Court is adjourned.”

Knuckles steps forward. “How am I to have-“

BANG! The Judge slams his hammer down. “Not another word!”

“But there are no papers out there!”

“I find the plaintiff guilty of contempt of court! Three days in the Waste!” BANG! Tan uniforms grab Knuckles and drag him out of the room.

“What?! NO! DON’T PUT ME OUT THERE!!”

“Your contract now belongs to the Free City of Hepa for its duration or until such a time as we negotiate it to another” drawls Suit. “Take them to their rooms.”

We’re dragged away again, down the street, down stairs, more cages. They throw me into another cage with Bones and the new guard clangs the lock shut.

“Enjoy your time in here. You’re to be put on filter duty, back out there.” With that, he is gone.

Hope is gone. Sanctuary doesn’t exist.

I fumble in my rags, I feel it, the metal still warm from the Dust. I look at it, it’s been so long since I looked at it. My locket, ironically shaped like a heart. Made of silver I think. I open it and see the woman. I wonder who she is- who she was to the little red haired girl I took it off of. Doesn’t matter.

I pull the picture out and see the pill hidden there. Safe.

My new Sanctuary.

I remove the pill and raise it to my lips but a bony hand grasps my shoulder. I turn around and see tears running down his weathered skin.

“No, your story doesn’t end this way.” He smiles at me. “Besides, you can always do it tomorrow.”

My breath catches in my throat.

“Never today. Always tomorrow. Ok?”

I nod.