Sam was adept at finding things in the ancient rubble. He was also good at getting in and out of those ancient skyscrapers without triggering a collapse. It seemed ironic that something that seemed so solid could come tumbling to the ground, but it had happened and many of his people were lost. The skyscrapers held a tenuous relationship with gravity and the surface of the earth had called them home from time to time. It was best not to tempt fate and Sam rarely did.
Rarely, but not never. After all, some of the best salvage were near the tops of these buildings.
The road from the rim lead past several of these buildings. It felt like taking your life into your hands when you stood below them and looked up. It was a challenge, listening to the groaning supports and the wind sending shivers through the building. Sometimes spouting cascades of rubble to a sudden stop in the hard packed ground.
“Any moment...” Sam whispered, “Any moment and everything could come crashing down.”
He took a somewhat winding route, avoiding hazards, but also shakily putting useful scraps into his makeshift sling sack. He couldn't afford to spend too much energy prying open boxes and getting into drawers, so he took what he could from the surfaces: a usable screwdriver slightly pockmarked with rust, a magnifying glass with a brittle handle that crumbled when he touched it, metal wheels from an old upended chair. He stopped several times, catching himself. His hunger was eating him from the inside. It had long since stopped being an obvious pain and more like a constant ache. It wouldn't be much longer. If he didn't get a full ration, it might even be tomorrow.
Sam leaned against the wall, he was afraid to sit or he might not stand back up. He leaned forward and pressed against the gloom that was swallowing the hulking towers. The sky turned from red to a dark purple. Then from the dark purple to a palpable dark blue. The mist eddied around his feet as he moved through the darkness. Every footstep made Sam’s entire frame ache. He couldn't tell if he was trembling from hunger or the encroaching cold. The smell of a campfire was on the air and reflected light penetrated the sky, guiding his way.
“Home again,” he said under his breath.
He moved to the checkpoint and raised a thin hand and a wavering voice.
“Sam here.”
A man looked over the wall from what he was doing. He had an old construction helmet with reflective bands lining the rim.
“Anything out there, son?” He barked, pushing his voice against the darkness like a challenge.
“Nothing, Trev, not a peep.” Sam said, breathlessly.
Trevor looked down and paused.
“You don't look so good,” Concern fluttered in his voice.
“Haven't eaten, sir.” Sam said, with some effort.
He sat, unmoving as he looked down for a couple of heartbeats. Sam couldn’t see his face, but he could feel it. Trev was a good man. He was there to protect the city from attacks that had long since ceased. He got a full ration which, for a Protector, was required. Trev had known his dad, Avery. He was probably the closest thing that Sam’s father had to a best friend. Regardless of how aloof as Avery had been.
“You don't look so good,” Concern fluttered in his voice.
“Haven't eaten, sir.” Sam said, with some effort.
He sat, unmoving as he looked down for a couple of heartbeats. Sam couldn’t see his face, but he could feel it. Trev was a good man. He was there to protect the city from attacks that had long since ceased. He got a full ration which, for a Protector, was required. Trev had known his dad, Avery. He was probably the closest thing that Sam’s father had to a best friend. Regardless of how aloof as Avery had been.
Ever since his father had passed on, Sam had to work extra to meet his scavenging quotas. Everyone had to work, it was true, but the better the haul, the more likely you got a decent share. Last week he had been at half rations even when he felt he was doing well. This week, it was scraps here and there, but he hadn't officially been rationed. He felt like he was being punished and he didn't know why. This had been happening for so long it was hard to know when the last time he had felt full.
Sam was slowly giving up. Yet, he had this irreconcilable drive that kept him going. The drawing of him on the word filled page fluttered into memory again. It seemed so long ago, but it was merely hours past.
Trev had retreated from the wall and after a muffled conversation called down to someone to open the door. Sam trudged forward, stumbling slightly, but righting himself. Each footstep rattled his bones. It was a lonely procession, rows of Protectors parted as the emaciated Sam moved into town toward the supply hold.
“You're late!" Old Ty grumbled as Sam leaned through the door, "Well, later than usual..."
He unslung the bag and dropped it on the table with a clatter, then flopped on a close-by cot like a bundle of bones.
He had barely looked up to see where Sam had gone. The dark of the supply warehouse hid the desperation that was filling Sam’s eyes. They glistened as he stared at the wall wondering if this was his last night.
There was a knock at the door and Tiberius shouted for whoever to come in. Trev walked in.
“Ty, where’s Sam?”
“Eh, lying there. Why?”
Focused and completely detached from reality, Tiberius was stooped over some electronic components with faint wisps of smoke ascending from his soldering iron. Sam watched him from his cot. He was a thin, bony man with bright blue eyes. Ty’s close cropped white hair had a matching scraggly beard that framed a lantern jaw with few functioning teeth.
Sam was slowly giving up. Yet, he had this irreconcilable drive that kept him going. The drawing of him on the word filled page fluttered into memory again. It seemed so long ago, but it was merely hours past.
Trev had retreated from the wall and after a muffled conversation called down to someone to open the door. Sam trudged forward, stumbling slightly, but righting himself. Each footstep rattled his bones. It was a lonely procession, rows of Protectors parted as the emaciated Sam moved into town toward the supply hold.
“You're late!" Old Ty grumbled as Sam leaned through the door, "Well, later than usual..."
He unslung the bag and dropped it on the table with a clatter, then flopped on a close-by cot like a bundle of bones.
He had barely looked up to see where Sam had gone. The dark of the supply warehouse hid the desperation that was filling Sam’s eyes. They glistened as he stared at the wall wondering if this was his last night.
There was a knock at the door and Tiberius shouted for whoever to come in. Trev walked in.
“Ty, where’s Sam?”
“Eh, lying there. Why?”
Focused and completely detached from reality, Tiberius was stooped over some electronic components with faint wisps of smoke ascending from his soldering iron. Sam watched him from his cot. He was a thin, bony man with bright blue eyes. Ty’s close cropped white hair had a matching scraggly beard that framed a lantern jaw with few functioning teeth.
Ty drove him hard, which kept him occupied. It was something Sam appreciated, but he was driven to distraction so often he had little awareness for those outside of himself. Right now, Sam was begging to be seen—acknowledged—as he felt himself slipping away.
Trev’s face came into view, his concern turned to worry. This was a common expression for him. His face was etched with the premature aging lines to prove it. They tended to mar his seemingly unflappable exterior.
Trev's eyes were a deep penetrating brown set deep under his jutting brow and wealth of red brown hair. He had his wife and and two young sons to care for, but his lost connection with Avery connected that same fatherly concern to Sam.
Sam remember Trevor being young just years ago. He was sure that this only had happened since he now had a family to worry for, too. There was too much sorrow in the world to have children. Sam sighed and involuntary tears began to stream from his eyes.
Trev’s face came into view, his concern turned to worry. This was a common expression for him. His face was etched with the premature aging lines to prove it. They tended to mar his seemingly unflappable exterior.
Trev's eyes were a deep penetrating brown set deep under his jutting brow and wealth of red brown hair. He had his wife and and two young sons to care for, but his lost connection with Avery connected that same fatherly concern to Sam.
Sam remember Trevor being young just years ago. He was sure that this only had happened since he now had a family to worry for, too. There was too much sorrow in the world to have children. Sam sighed and involuntary tears began to stream from his eyes.
Tiberius swung his head to the side and followed Trev’s gaze to Sam.
“Huh, you not feeling well, boy?” Tiberius verbally poked at Sam making him feel even worse.
“Huh, you not feeling well, boy?” Tiberius verbally poked at Sam making him feel even worse.
Trev opened an old military pack and knelt by the cot. He rooted out a plastic and foil package printed with Meal Ready to Eat. It was incredibly old, but seemed to have weathered that time well.
“I've been saving this for a special occasion,” Trevor said, struggling with a pathetic smile.
Sam’s gaunt face looked pained, there was a mix of disdain and bone-crushing fatigue as Trev tore the package open neatly and handed it to him. Sam may live another day, but he really didn’t know how he felt about that. It was a constant struggle that he'd grown tired of.
The thought to refuse came and went as his stomach gurgled at the smell of chicken bacon loaf oozed from the package. He took it gracefully and nodded wordlessly to Trev. Sam drank the gravy and chewed each bite from the chunk of meat slowly and deliberately. It was then that he realized that these animals, if it was an animal, had likely been dead for decades, and—the more morbid thought occurred to him—that animal was likely extinct.
“Should we only be so lucky,” he thought to himself. Humanity seemed to teeter on the edge of the precipice.
Trevor stood, watching Sam unceremoniously slurp at the contents of the MRE.
“I knew we were low on supplies, but I had no idea they had cut rations to the children.” Trev was clearly upset as he spoke to Tiberius.
Tiberius shook his head and shrugged, only now being aware that such a problem may exist.
“I … I didn't know. I'd a done something if I had. He’s such a trooper, after all.” Tiberius said as he bent down and mussed Sam's hair absently.
Sam's stomach rumbled violently as his body remembered what to do next. He drank copiously from the aluminum canteen that hung off the edge of the cot. A wave of exhaustion settled over him pushing him into the cot and he drifted off, listening to the rumble of voices drone over him.
After Sam had slipped in a daze, Ty looked at the bag Sam had brought in. He upended it and pulled out the tools and wheels and carefully pulled out the magnifying glass.
“You don't see this kind of find anymore. Real glass!” Tiberius chuckled scratchily to himself as he tapped it with a grotesque fingernail. He took the lens and started fitting it with a wire clasp and attempted to mount it to an old lamp arm with stretched out springs.
“Hey, Ty. Let me know how he does when he wakes up. Tomorrow morning I'm going to find out why he’s not getting rations.” He said it sternly, grabbing Ty’s shoulder, making sure he was looking him in the eye.
“Will do!” Ty belted jovially, nodding at Trev while looking through the magnifying glass at the project on the table, seeming to forget everything that had just happened.
“I've been saving this for a special occasion,” Trevor said, struggling with a pathetic smile.
Sam’s gaunt face looked pained, there was a mix of disdain and bone-crushing fatigue as Trev tore the package open neatly and handed it to him. Sam may live another day, but he really didn’t know how he felt about that. It was a constant struggle that he'd grown tired of.
The thought to refuse came and went as his stomach gurgled at the smell of chicken bacon loaf oozed from the package. He took it gracefully and nodded wordlessly to Trev. Sam drank the gravy and chewed each bite from the chunk of meat slowly and deliberately. It was then that he realized that these animals, if it was an animal, had likely been dead for decades, and—the more morbid thought occurred to him—that animal was likely extinct.
“Should we only be so lucky,” he thought to himself. Humanity seemed to teeter on the edge of the precipice.
Trevor stood, watching Sam unceremoniously slurp at the contents of the MRE.
“I knew we were low on supplies, but I had no idea they had cut rations to the children.” Trev was clearly upset as he spoke to Tiberius.
Tiberius shook his head and shrugged, only now being aware that such a problem may exist.
“I … I didn't know. I'd a done something if I had. He’s such a trooper, after all.” Tiberius said as he bent down and mussed Sam's hair absently.
Sam's stomach rumbled violently as his body remembered what to do next. He drank copiously from the aluminum canteen that hung off the edge of the cot. A wave of exhaustion settled over him pushing him into the cot and he drifted off, listening to the rumble of voices drone over him.
* * *
After Sam had slipped in a daze, Ty looked at the bag Sam had brought in. He upended it and pulled out the tools and wheels and carefully pulled out the magnifying glass.
“You don't see this kind of find anymore. Real glass!” Tiberius chuckled scratchily to himself as he tapped it with a grotesque fingernail. He took the lens and started fitting it with a wire clasp and attempted to mount it to an old lamp arm with stretched out springs.
“Hey, Ty. Let me know how he does when he wakes up. Tomorrow morning I'm going to find out why he’s not getting rations.” He said it sternly, grabbing Ty’s shoulder, making sure he was looking him in the eye.
“Will do!” Ty belted jovially, nodding at Trev while looking through the magnifying glass at the project on the table, seeming to forget everything that had just happened.
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