I had walked unconsciously. I had found myself sleepwalking at one point, suddenly jarring my eyes open and realizing that I didn’t know how far I had travelled; the last few seconds, minutes, hours were a blackened haze in my mind as I had shifted in and out of consciousness. The sand was becoming thick at my heels and I barely had the strength to pull myself out of its grasp. My head hung low, I drudged onwards, my eyelids becoming heavy once again. I must have fallen asleep once more because I was suddenly jolted awake by my feet scraping against asphalt underneath me. My head flew up wildly and I saw I had found myself at a rather small village; so small, in fact, that my own little town could be considered a sprawling metropolis in comparison. I saw no signs of Ponika, but this was the next best thing.
The buildings were old and burned yet still standing. The charred brick and rusted signs were eerie in the emptiness of the wasteland. I passed by a General store covered in soot but I could tell through the broken windows that it had been raided many years ago; nothing but dust covered the long, broken shelves inside. Even the cash register was tipped and emptied although I didn’t know of any need for money anymore. Above the store were apartments with busted windows and a circular spot of what appeared to be pitch covering the brick and mortar of the building; it was a large section of impact that had splattered across the window-frames around it. The stairs that lead to above the shop were demolished, however; there would be no way to scavenge those rooms now.
I continued on past a car repair shop; its sign, ‘Garage’, was still hanging sturdy above its door with very little damage. One garage door was wide open and the second one was jarred in a half-open state, casting darkness upon the room it encased. I peered inside as I travelled, squinting at the outlines in the shadows; various yellow eyes suddenly peered back, their gaze steady and unwavering. I could barely make out the large, furred bodies the eyes belonged to but I could see their long, slimy pink tails reflecting off the car parts scattered across the garage. I averted my gaze but kept them visible in the corner of my eye until they, too, averted theirs; I could see that they already had a meal to focus on. I respected their territory and left the garage behind, focusing on the small schoolhouse next door.
It was made of faded red bricks and contained a lone bell tower upon the roof, of which a bell no longer resided; I would later find its rusted and cracked carapace in the dirt behind the schoolhouse. The windows of the school were boarded up but glass littered the dusty sand outside them all the same. The schoolhouse itself, however, appeared sturdy and in good condition; my next stop. The shutters of the houses around me slammed angrily against their foundations as I opened the school’s door and stepped inside.
I immediately coughed from the dust, sending even more flying around in the stagnant air. Small shafts of sun peeked through the gaps in the wood that boarded the windows, allowing me to see clearer than I had anticipated. There were nine small desks laid out in a three-by-three fashion before me and a large desk at the far end facing the others; an obvious teacher’s desk. A black filing cabinet was tucked into the corner beside the desk, its sharp and glinting frame bright in the remains around me. It was a familiar sight; the library back home had a very similar one hidden away beneath curtains and stacks of encyclopedias, although we never could get it open. I stepped farther into the schoolhouse, hearing the crunch of rotten books and soiled papers underfoot. They littered the floor near a broken bookshelf nearby, but other than that the room appeared almost untouched. The blackboard on the far wall was slightly scuffed and contained a few mathematical questions for addition with its chalk and brush still sitting neatly on the wooden ledge. As I neared the board I noticed the small stack of papers on the teacher’s desk; they were completely untouched by time and stacked ever so neatly. I gazed down at them, not expecting to see any names I recognized and yet there it was: Nathaniel Torin - A+ student. I quickly skimmed through the pile but Nathaniel’s was the only name I knew. All six pages on the desk, however, were A’s or better, but this was a classroom of nine; where were the rest? Perhaps the last three desks merely remained unused, although their scattered papers and perfectly sharpened pencils in the indent upon them made me feel otherwise. I stared down at Nathaniel’s paper in my hand; it was far more advanced math than the addition on the blackboard behind me…just who exactly was this guy? I chucked the paper back onto the pile and started to rummage through the few drawers in the pressboard desk. Ruined papers, a few broken pencils and…a key; for the filing cabinet, I assumed. I put it to work immediately but found little of interest in the exposed folders; the backgrounds and behaviour problems of kids I had never heard of and notes on tests were in most of the cabinet’s drawers…until I found Nathaniel’s file. It was written in a mix of English and a language I had never seen before. Nathaniel had more information on his file than anyone else but unfortunately I couldn’t read most of it. I put his papers into my backpack and returned the folder; maybe Kay would find this interesting.
No sooner had I closed my backpack when I heard a loud bang outside from slamming doors and muttering voices accompanied it. I ran to a window and did my best to peer through a gap in the boards.
“Which house is it, then?” A female voice asked.
“Why ask him? He clearly doesn’t know.” A male voice responded.
“I told you I never really knew; I just had a hunch. Clearly I was wrong,” a gruffer voice responded, “we’ll have to check all of them.”
“We don’t have time for that, Nate; the winds won’t last.” The first male voice responded in a concerned tone. I could see their feet wandering closer but still could not make out their faces.
“…we’ll check one more and then the schoolhouse, alright? Surely we have time for that.” The man called Nate slowly replied.
Nate…it surely can’t be…?
“We’ll have to make it out fast, Nate…I’m willing to help you but I can’t get caught; not again…”
“I know, Amy. A quick glance should be enough to know if it was Ms. Hatchfield’s place or not; I promise. We’ll be done before you know it.”
“Ms. Hatchfield? You mean Dorothy, right?” The other man responded as I watched their feet saunter off towards a house opposite the garage.
“Yes, Thomas. Force of habit, I suppose.”
I knew I had only precious seconds to escape the school while they were elsewhere and so I prepared myself accordingly. I watched as the door was held open and two people went inside. When I saw the third start his way inside I darted for the exit. As soon as I heard the slam of the door behind them I left the school and was greeted to a full blast of sand to my face; I was in the middle of a sandstorm that had conjured itself up quite suddenly. Fixing my bandana around my face I raced behind the schoolhouse, thankful at least for the wind covering my tracks. I had barely reached the old school bell when I heard the Pirates again.
“The wind is really picking up, Nate…I don’t think we have time; they’ll leave without us!” Thomas sounded panicked now. I stayed close to the brick, willing them away; the last thing I needed was a confrontation with Pirates.
“We have time; I’m just grabbing a folder. I was hoping to find more today but this’ll have to do.” Nate replied as I heard their footsteps nearby and the sudden slam of the school’s door.
I was frozen to the spot. Nate…looking for a folder? Could this be the same Nathaniel? I clutched my backpack tightly as I cursed myself; what have I done? I could hear the Pirates stomping around inside through the broken windows and heard the sliding of the filing cabinet.
“Where is it?” Nate asked angrily.
“It’s gone, Nate…all your papers are gone.” Amy murmured in response.
“Why would she do that? Why would she leave me an empty folder? What’s so important about my documents?”
“You should know the answer to that.” Thomas responded.
I heard Nate sigh angrily and the slamming of metallic drawers. “No one else has lost
information…”
“Oh, no, not at all. Our papers weren’t conveniently lost in a fire, were they Amy?” Thomas replied sarcastically.
“You really think it was intentional?” Nate asked, calming his anger.
“We don’t really have time for this…” Amy’s words were quiet and drawn out.
“She’s right; we can talk about this later. Let’s go.”
I heard their shuffling feet and the door open once again. Gripping my backpack in a white-knuckled state, I peeked around the corner of my hiding place as I saw three figures disappear into the sands.
Journal Entry #3,
I had wandered the small town for a while, keeping an ever vigilant eye on the rodents that inhabited the nearby Garage. I had wondered on what those Pirates were looking for as I entered the few lone houses across from the school. No wonder the travellers didn’t look for long, though; the homes were an absolute mess on the inside. Their roofs were caved in and broken beams littered the floor. Everything was covered in dirt and soot and what little remained of the furniture was scattered across the house. There was clearly nothing to salvage from and walking any further inside would have been disastrous; the entire frame of the homes creaked and swayed in the wind and the foundation shifted at every step I had made. I left the homes as quickly as I had entered them. I didn’t know what those Pirates were looking for, exactly, but I knew I had a piece of what they wanted; a thought that caused my stomach to knot up in fear. What would have happened if they knew I had his papers? If I exposed myself? Should I put them back? Though I don’t know what good that would have done...they won’t exactly be coming back here to check again when they already know it’s not here. Even though the idea of getting on a Pirate’s bad side had made me nervous, actually having such important documents was exciting as well; maybe Kay would be able to make something of it when I found him?
The thought of him encouraged me onwards. Kay and my father were clearly not here and neither was my horse; staying here any longer would be pointless. I sighed as I squinted my eyes towards the sprawling wasteland, the wind now puffing out a few mild gusts but nothing more. I didn’t exactly want to continue travelling the desert on my own but what choice did I have? Nothing will be accomplished if I don’t keep moving forward. And so I did; I wandered the never-ending wasteland, finding myself lost in the vast nothingness of sand around me. I found myself wanting to go home; a thought I didn’t think that I would ever have.
“Home is where the heart is, as they say.” I scoffed.
My heart was definitely not back home. So why did I suddenly long for it? Am I really not strong enough for this? I had never really thought about the repercussions of leaving. I just assumed that I would find what I was looking for, yet now I’m all alone. Where is Ponika? Is he doing okay, wherever he is? I hope he’s somehow found food out here...maybe he found his way back to town?
“He’d be better off there anyway. Maybe I should never have come out here...” I swallowed hard and cursed.
Maybe my homesick feeling was coming from something else? I had gazed at the towering dunes now surrounding me; dunes much larger than I had ever seen before. I could see paths darting between their enormous frames and my mind constantly thought onto my mother and the Dunes back home. The Dunes - a vast stretch of deserted land behind my house that seemed to continue on forever. We didn’t see dunes too often out there; the desert around us was more of a wasteland of hard, cracked sandstone than anything else, so the nickname for that particular stretch of sand was all too easy to come up with. Vicious sandstorms would often rip through there, lasting for days. I always found it somewhat mesmerizing to watch, though, as I would drift in and out of my thoughts. People got lost out there all the time and the storms were quite dangerous…but I loved to ride through them all the same. It turns out my mother did too.
My mother and I may have barely even noticed each other’s existence most days but every so often I would find her riding her horse, Rose, through town. She would smile at me as she sauntered past, nodding slightly and challenging me to a race. I was always a little confused when she asked; she would never even look my way if I passed her in the hall but suddenly, now, she wants to chat? I enjoyed the idea, though, and had excitedly agreed. Without waiting for a response I had taken off and by the time I got to the starting line we made in the Dunes, my heart was racing. Finally...I could put all my training to use!
My mother, as always, had sat there, cool and collected with only the faintest of smiles passing her lips as I had waited for her, fidgeting quite noticeably on Ponika’s back. As usual, I had no saddle; I felt it would be too constricting and I wanted my horse to always feel free. My mother, however, had a large saddle bundled with blankets and a small canister for water that she hung off the side. It was a fine leather saddle that she refused to ever ride without. Rose, however, being an older horse, may have preferred the comfort anyway so while I may have tried to convince my mother otherwise, I never pressed the matter.
My mother had slowly made her way beside me and glanced shortly in my direction. “Ready?” Even her words felt slow and drawn-out.
“Definitely!” I almost shrieked the words back at her in my excitement.
Oddly enough, she laughed; something she usually never did. “Alright, then...on the count of 3?” I nodded at her and hunkered down on Ponika, ready to take off as soon as I heard the number. “1...2...” she started and then paused as she watched me twitch excitedly in anticipation. She laughed once again and finally yelled, “3!” and I was off like a bolt of lightning.
Even with my mom’s collected demeanour she was on my tail in a matter of seconds; old Rose really had more energy to her than I thought she would. I always managed to keep the lead, though, and we twisted through the large sand hills as we made our way to our target destination: the gulf on the other side. That was our halfway point; we would slightly dip into the gulf and then charge back to the starting point. There was no set path to take but there wasn’t really a shortcut, either; the dunes often shifted in size and location with each passing sandstorm, making it impossible to ever map out a route as you went. That added to the fun of it, though, as my mother would suddenly disappear from behind me and reappear at a dune beside me, trying to sneak her way past. I wasn’t sure if it was of Ponika’s own determination and competitive streak or if he could sense my own urge to win but he would charge forward even faster as my mother and I laughed into the wind.
I remember vividly that first race and seeing the dip of the valley in the distance. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face even I had wanted to as we neared ever closer, my mother always one small step behind. Barely even touching the earth, Ponika galloped through the edge of the gulf and turned, seeing our small village on the horizon as our new racing point. We danced through the dunes once again, trying to lose my mother on our trail yet always seeing her emerge somewhere behind us. She was a surprisingly good rider but I knew she would never be able to overcome me.
I had reached the finish line mere seconds before her and I cheered into the blowing winds. I hopped off Ponika’s back and hugged him, thanking him for a job well done and congratulating him; it was more his win than mine, anyway. I had turned, beaming, to see my mother and Rose trotting over the finish line and coming to a slow stop behind us. She was still smiling, which surprised me; I had always assumed she would be a sore loser, as she never showed much interest in fun before.
“You and Ponika make a great team,” she had said finally.
“Ah, well, you’re not too bad yourself.” I patted my horse, doing my best to downplay how uncomfortable I felt at the rare compliment that my mother gave out.
“Your training clearly shows, though.” She stepped down from her horse and started to walk Rose back to the house. Ponika, still full of energy, pranced behind his mother as he followed. “You’ve really learnt a lot over the years.”
“Yet you managed to keep up quite well. You’re a natural,”
I said and saw my mother suddenly freeze. “Did you ride before the Reckoning?”
“No.” She hastily replied and urged her horse forward, suddenly leaving me alone in the Dunes; a feeling I was now reliving.
She had ignored me for the rest of the day, as per usual. I’ve never known what caused her sudden mood changes but I was well used to it; her mood often shifted without notice. As the large dunes around me started to cast their shadow upon my path, I thought with a small smile on how much my mother would enjoy a race through here; it would be like travelling between mountains. The only time she ever seemed to care about me was when we raced and as much as I hated to admit it, I often lived for those moments; a time when I didn’t feel so alone. I think it was that same loneliness that pushed me from home…that led to the day I finally left. As I wandered into the cold shadows of the monstrous dunes around me, I thought back to that day - the day I finally took matters into my own hands.
My room was basked in a light glow as the sun slowly decided to rise for the day. I had casually watched the horizon start to burn with the fiery ferocity of a wakening sun, enjoying the last time I would see such a sight from a familiar place. I was merely wasting time, I know, but a goodbye like this was hard to cut short. My fingers traced the wooden frame of my window as I looked down at the corral waiting for me. It was a hand-built corral that my father had surprised us with when I was little. He somehow managed to get all the supplies necessary to build it and brought back two horses with him: my colt at the time, Ponika, and his mother Rose. I never questioned it as a child but it often wanders through my thoughts these days…just how exactly did my father manage to get whatever he wanted from the Provider like that? What did it matter now, though…really? He was gone and soon enough I wouldn’t have a Provider either. I had watched my horse as he stirred ever so slightly but Rose was still sleeping soundly. Maybe Ponika knew something was going on today? I grabbed my hiking pack from its spot at my feet and hurled it onto my shoulders; I had already packed my things the night before. I readjusted the small satchel I had attached to my belt as it had slid down uncomfortably when I grabbed my backpack and I double-checked the satchel’s contents. Thankfully, everything still looked good; my medical supplies were contained within and I would hate for anything to happen to them. Would it be enough, though?
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