Deserted

by L. M. McCleary

  ‘Stay another week or two,’ I had thought, ‘pick up more supplies from the Mediator and Provider before you go.’ I immediately shook my head at the idea though. No…I’ve procrastinated long enough.

  I had doubted I would receive any more supplies anyway. The town was well stocked with medicinal supplies, making them no longer a necessity and therefore not a priority. The Provider rarely cared about non-essential requests. It would be as much a waste of time as my current loitering. I had sighed inwardly and reached for the old, rusted dagger that lay on my bed. As I prepared to put the dagger into my sheath I had noticed that a small section of hilt had been chipped off. When did that happen? The answer came to me before I could even finish my thought: my mother. She did not take my father’s leaving too well and had once thrown his things around the house in a fit of rage, including many of his handmade pottery and collectables. I had come home one day to see my father’s clothes strewn about the living room and my mother sitting on the couch, five drinks in. There were shattered pots around her feet, pots I had once helped my father make in our basement. She was huffing and sweating and I merely looked at her in disbelief. Hell, my heart went out to her a little bit, although I’ll never tell her that; I struggled with my own anger at my father’s disappearance. I had reached down to pick up one of my dad’s checkered blue shirts and she had immediately snapped at me.

  “Don’t touch it!” She snarled and I jumped in surprise; she had never spoken to me so harshly before. I had said nothing and merely stared at her, wide-eyed. She didn’t even look at me as she continued her drink and I ran upstairs to my bedroom. I didn’t see the dagger in the mess my mother had created but it most certainly must have been there; my father’s sculptures certainly were.

  I grumbled. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

  I tucked the blade into the sheath on my hip and shook my head of the memory. I had tightened my ponytail and took one last look around the room to ensure I wasn’t missing anything. Making sure my father’s bandana was tight around my neck, I headed for the door and took one last look at my room; I was surprised that I actually felt a little sad to see it go. My room was still draped in darkness although the window was ever so slowly becoming brighter as the sun herself started to wake. My oaken four-post bed was made and the pillows stacked neatly on top; I even folded my grandmother’s quilt perfectly and rested it at the foot of my bed. My vanity was finally cleared of every little knickknack that my mother always yelled at me for leaving out and its creaky wooden chair was pushed in as far as it would go. The dark hardwood floor was swept and clean and the dark red rug atop it was freshly washed as well; my mother would not have to do anything to my room in my absence. It was the least I could do for her, anyway; in her state she can barely crawl out of bed, let alone keep a tidy house anymore. I opened the wooden door to my room and closed it very slowly behind me, afraid that any small sound could wake my mother from her fitful rest.

  The hallway was the complete opposite of the room that I left immaculate for my mother; it was a mess. The hardwood floor was scuffed and dusty and the long rug that ran the length of it was upturned on various sides. I shook my head when I noticed it; it had been that way for weeks now. The piles of clothing that lined the walls were steadily getting larger but at least they were shoved to the side; I once had to swim through a sea of clothes just to reach my bedroom. I took one last look at my mother’s bedroom door that lay opposite my own, leaving a last thought for her as I started to leave. Surprisingly, her door was slightly ajar; she usually locked it behind her. I took a passing glance into her room as I made my way towards the stairs and saw her sleeping in a rather uncomfortable position atop a heap of my father’s clothes. The blankets were draped over the side of her bed and the pillows were scattered across the room. The large wardrobe that my parents shared was open and most of the hangers lay broken on the floor around it; sadly, this was all a sight I was used to. The faint, green glow that escaped her bedroom is what caught my eye, however, as I noticed a small green vial sitting on the bed-stand beside her. I had seen it before, but only once. I was a child at the time and when my mother caught me watching her hold it she screeched at me and I hurried away; I was only little then and her harsh tone scared me for days. I was never sure what exactly it was but the liquid inside that green bottle always seemed to swirl in rapid movements when my mother held it. I think I had even heard voices at the time. My father didn’t know what the vial was and denied it even existed as he had never seen her with such a thing. I was only a child; I quickly let it go. Whatever it was, my mother must have been gazing into it again before she slept last night, as she would never dare leave it out in the open like that. Then again, I was rarely ever home; what did she need to hide anymore?

  As tempting as the thought was to examine the vial, I really didn’t care enough in the end; I had something much more important to pursue. I wished my mother well in my thoughts and continued down the hallway but was stopped momentarily by the dust-covered nightstand on my left. There was a vase atop it with what used to be flowers within it, long and drooping in death and curled petals that fell every so often into the dusty world below. They were far beyond my help but it wasn’t the flowers that caught my eye, it was the picture frame that bothered me; it was sitting face down in a pile of dust. I lifted it up and carefully dusted it off as I put it back in its rightful position, holding back on the irritation I felt as I did so. It was a photo of me and my father in the corral the day I received Ponika. It was a memory I loved to look at; just because she didn’t doesn’t give her the right to disgrace it like she did. I felt that photographs were to always be treasured, as cameras are an extremely rare gift to receive, but my mother didn’t seem to care about anything anymore. I took one last longing look at the photo and swore to myself that I would see him again. I would find Kay and my father, no matter where it took me.

  The stairs creaked ever so slightly as I inched my way down, straining my eyes in the denser darkness that permeated the first floor of the house. Even in the darkness, however, I could see the piles of clothes strewn about the living room and the dishes that littered the table nearby. With one hand on the banister I took in my surroundings, somehow still appalled at the state in which my mother continued to live. The bay window at the front of the house, opposite our couch was draped in long red curtains; I can’t remember when they were ever opened last. No wonder it was so dark inside; but how was it outside? I peeked at the front door and noticed the night slowly getting brighter through the small circular window near the top of the oaken door to our house. I cursed myself for my procrastination; I had wanted to leave much earlier than this. I hoped the townspeople would choose today to laze around indoors for a while so I could make my escape, although they never did before; they’ve always been early risers. I never did understand why; what is there to be up so early for? We have nothing going on here.

  I had swung the door open and headed outside, no longer caring about the noise I may make; I didn’t have time to be stealthy. It was a chilly morning, as it usually is; the shadows of the night could chill you to the bone sometimes. I saw some movement inside a few homes but thankfully no one was outside just yet; maybe I could still say goodbye, so long as I made it quick. I hurried off to my left and followed the sands that drifted quietly at my feet. Behind my house was the perfect vantage point of the Dunes; my private vista. I had really wanted a moment with it before I left. Once Kay disappeared too, this place was the only positivity I had left. I loved watching the Dunes, a place that will always hold a special place in my heart, not just because of the fun me and Ponika used to have, but because it was a rare time when my mother and I seemed to become more than just strangers. I had really wished that we could have gone back to that…

  I had stood atop the vista, watching the swirling wind dance across the hills of sand. The storm was raging hard in the Dunes today; it would be a few days before this one let up, I was sure. Once again, the twistin
g vortexes mesmerized me as my thoughts wandered. Each dune my eyes meandered to reminded me of racing; we would use the dunes as benchmarks to guide our path. I had quickly become a skilled rider as Ponika became my life; we were inseparable. It was rare that my mother would do anything more than a quick jaunt around town on her horse but when she felt like racing, she did it well. Sand would often kick up in our eyes as we went but neither of us cared; it was freeing being out there. My mother’s defensive shell seemed to melt away when she was with her horse, although it never lasted long. The Dunes reminded me of life without my father and the little ways we would find to bring some peace to our souls. It’s quite apparent that my mother gave up on finding that now, though. I had felt a small pang of guilt about leaving but it passed quickly; she never cared when I was around so why would she care if I wasn’t?

  I started to hear movement in town, jolting me from my thoughts. Looking quickly behind me I saw a few people emerging from their homes, sleep still evident on their faces. I once again cursed my slow behaviour and hurried back the way I came; I still had to wake Ponika. I raced across the sands in front of my house, relieved that no one seemed to notice me. By the time I reached the corral on the other side of my home my horse was already wide awake and prancing around his stall. I quickly fed him some oats and allowed him to gather all the strength he could for the morning; he would need it.

  “C’mon Ponika…we have a very important task ahead of us.” I talked soothingly to him as he grazed from my hands. “You’ll love it…running wild into the wasteland, no buildings or dunes to stop you. You could outrun the wind.” I patted his neck as he finished the last few scraps from my other hand.

  When he was finished I packed a few of his things into my backpack and hoisted myself upon his back, saddle-less as always. I urged him slowly forward and pointed him towards the sprawling wasteland beside us, the morning’s rays now illuminating the hard ground before us.

  “This is it,” I said as I leaned into him, “everything is going to change now, Ponika.”

  With a quick movement of my heels he was off, charging into the wilds of the desert. The townspeople, however, heard his hoofs on the hard ground and immediately watched as I left. I gritted my teeth; who knows what lies my mother would conjure up about why I left or where I was going. I had forced the thought from my head and the emotion from my heart; that was my past now and it had no hold on my future. Ponika and I had run wildly through the wasteland, the wind warm and exhilarating against my skin as I had felt myself grow nervous. The freedom was exciting but I had never journeyed into the desert before…well, never on my own, anyway; I did attend a meeting with the Mediator once, out in the northern wastelands, but that…that was nothing compared to this. The thought of the entire desert at my fingertips, waiting for me to explore every last nook and cranny was exciting. The world that Kay and I always dreamed of could very well still be out here somewhere and I continue to hold onto the hope that he found that place and that he’s waiting there for me. I can picture it now: relaxing in the shade of a large tree with the sound of rushing water in the distance, watching birds fly by and having all the food he could want at his disposal. Laying his back against the long, cool grass that grows for as far as the eye can see, not a care in the world. I’ll find that place, and him with it.

  The night had been coming on fast and the wind’s howling had become ever more incessant. I had fallen asleep while still standing at one point and knew that I had no choice but to find somewhere to rest, even if only for a few minutes; my search for the now three missing boys will have to be put on hold. My heart ached whenever I thought on my missing horse; things were not supposed to end this way. What were my chances of ever finding him out in the wasteland, really? With only my two feet to guide me, I would never be able to catch up with him even if I knew where to go. It was a defeatist’s attitude, I know…or maybe it was simply a realist’s one? Either way, I would get nowhere in my journey if I didn’t get some sleep – and soon. I couldn’t exactly just lie down in the desert, though; I had to keep on moving until I found somewhere safe to rest. The last time I had seen much of, well...anything, was hours ago; I had no idea how long I would have to drudge onwards until finding another suitable spot. Night had already encapsulated the sky by the time I found this hollow. I knew it was my last chance at finding some seclusion from the wasteland and I happily took cover within it.

  I was surprised at its interior as I stepped inside. The walls were frigid to the touch and made of a metallic substance. Fragments of a railing line the sides of the hollow, the majority of it rusted and bent into various angles. The ground, while mostly covered in sand, is hard underneath and when the sands shifted I could see the same metallic structure hidden underfoot. This wasn’t just a random cave within a mountain, like I had assumed initially; my hollow was actually a tunnel to the other side. What lay at the end of the path, however, was hard to determine as the tunnel was steeped in darkness, although a few small shafts of light were occasionally visible, peeking through some sort of obstruction. I sat near the entrance, bathing myself in the brightly lit moon and willing my uneasiness away. I wanted nothing to do with rubble and shadows and I casted shifty glances towards the other end of the tunnel; its darkness reminded me of the mineshaft, a place I’d rather forget. I have nowhere else to go, though, and I find myself whispering comforting words into the quiet night as I start to nod off. I need to get some rest; here’s hoping this entry won’t be my last.

  *

  “Here, boy; I believe she belongs to you.”

  I know I heard those words, I just know it. I was awoken by a familiar sniffing sound and felt hot breath on my face. My dreams quickly turned to nightmares as I imagined the creatures of the night that surely must have gathered around me and I almost screamed myself awake at the feeling. With fluttering eyes I jerked forward, still groggy and trying to make sense of the white muzzle that was greeting me. Another huff of his breath and a brush of his mane to my face and suddenly I became acutely aware.

  “Ponika!” My words echoed throughout my side of the chamber as I embraced the horse I was sure I would never see again. I hugged his neck tightly, afraid to let go and he stood as still as he always did; he was well used to my affections. I nuzzled into him and held back the tears I knew were about to form; the wasteland is no place for weakness. “I thought you were gone...” I eked out the words into his neck and patted him.

  Then I remembered the voice. It had sounded so…familiar, yet clouded by my dreams. My heart raced as I whirled my head around, looking for what surely must have been my father; who else would know about Ponika, let alone know that he was mine? But I saw nothing. Standing up slowly, I peered into the darkness further into the tunnel and called out, expecting to hear the voice yet again. I strained to listen, standing perfectly still as my horse sidled up next to me, but there was no other sound besides his short huffs and his clicking hooves. If he’s not further into the tunnel…

  I hurried my way towards the wasteland, hoping to possibly catch a glimpse of the rescuer on his escape but the desert was as vast and empty as I had left it – at first glance, anyway. I was about to turn back in when I saw the footprints in the sand; large ones that were most certainly not mine. I called out to my father again as I chased the retreated steps. I didn’t get far from my little hollow, however, when the footprints vanished entirely. The wind had become rather violent by now but the rest of the steps were still visible…how could they just up and disappear like that?

  “Who…who rescued you, boy?” I glanced back at Ponika as though he held all the answers. “How did they know who I was…or you, for that matter? Was it someone you know?” Ponika continued to stare at me with a dopey expression. But…it had to have been someone we know; who else could that possibly be?

  I wandered back towards the entrance of the tunnel. “But why did he leave? He recognizes us, he knows us.” I stopped and thought for a moment, biting my lip as I tried to fo
rce my emotions back. “I’m looking for you…why did you leave?” My father wouldn’t have just appeared momentarily – that didn’t make any sense.

  I eventually returned to my spot on the floor and I stared at the wall opposite me, losing myself in my thoughts for most of the night. “Did you not want to find me?” I whispered the words and picked absently at my jeans. “Maybe you don’t want to be found…”

  I stretched myself out on the cold floor and patted Ponika’s muzzle. He didn’t seem concerned and I tried to take solace in that. I shut my eyes and tried to sleep. It was a long-going process, but I did manage a short and uncomfortable nap with the sound of Ponika’s hooves nearby; a constant reminder of his vigilant guard. When I awoke to the sun upon the horizon, we breakfasted together and I tried to stay positive for the day to come. I decided to think of what happened last night as a ray of hope.

  “Maybe he couldn’t stay,” I had said to my horse through mouthfuls of food, “maybe something wouldn’t let him. I need to know for sure, Ponika; he may need my help.”

  While I had eaten my meal voraciously I was surprised that Ponika seemed fairly disinterested in his. A few stray scraps are all he wanted yet he appeared to be full of energy; he must have scavenged quite well in my absence, if the words I heard were nothing more than a dream.

  “More for the road then, buddy.” I said as I tucked his morsels away within my backpack. Finally, with my meal finished and the day ready to be explored, I gathered our things and hoisted myself up Ponika’s back.