Survive for Me

by Karin Dahan

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  them.”

  I hug her close, trying to take in every single detail; her sounds, her smells, the softness of her hair. This will be the last time I ever see her. I can no longer hold back my tears.

  As I gently stroke her hair, the smell brings back memories of when she was newborn and loved nothing more than to sleep on my chest. “I love you so much my Eddie, my everything, but you must go.” At first my voice is just a whisper but as I continue it grows stronger, “Go to the cabin in the forest. I know you will find the way. But keep off the main roads. Don’t let anyone see you. Edward is the only one who knows about our cabin and he will come find you.” He has too.

  I stand up, lift Eddie to her feet, and guide her over to the porch doors that is just a few steps behind the kitchen table. The doors opened to a wooden deck and a small patch of grass and beyond that a metal fence with the forest behind it. The fence looks misplaced with so much greenery surrounding it.

  The sirens are closer now, only a block away at the most. I push the doors open and an icy wind rushes past us into the kitchen. Even though it is high summer, the afternoon is unusually cold, and the trees seem almost angry in how they sway in the wind.

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  “If you hurry you will get there before sunset; don’t stop on the way. It wouldn’t be safe to be out in the woods when the sun has set.” I bring my hands around the back of my neck and find the clip lock to my golden necklace. “I always planned to give this to you when you were older. I have had it since the day you were born. It has your name on it, that way I always carried you next to my heart.”

  “Mom, don’t. You’ll give it to me later.” I ignored Eddie’s protest and put the necklace on her. Tears are streaming down both of our faces now as the first knock on the door echoes through the house. I kiss Eddie’s cheeks and take a deep breath to steady herself. “Go; do not look back. You know where Edward has a hidden opening in the fence; use that. I know you can do this Eddie. Survive for me.”

  Eddie is holding onto my shirt with a closed fist, refusing to let go. I pry open her fingers while her eyes plead with me to not make her do this. How I wish there was another choice, another way for this to end. But I can’t be ignorant, and I can’t let them catch her. I must save her.

  I push her outside and shut the sliding door, trying to hold back the emotions that are screaming inside of me not to leave my daughter. “Go Eddie, run,” I whisper as I gesture for her to leave. I can see how

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  she’s torn, how she’s having an internal struggle with what to do.

  Then, to my joy, I see my stubborn and strong-willed daughter listen to me for once and she starts sprinting toward the fence.

  As I watch her run away all the things that I’ll miss from her future are disappearing with her. I’ll never get to see the woman she becomes once her teenage years are over, never see the joy of her first big love, or help her through heartbreaks. I’ll never know my daughter’s soulmate or see the faces of my grandchildren. The tears are uncontrollable now and as Eddie climbs through the fence all off my strength disappears with her and I slowly slide down to the floor. I saved her Alec. At least I did that. It’s a low whisper against the loud crack as the front door breaks down.

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  Chapter 1

  I climb up the familiar rope ladder to the tree house, the wooden steps smooth under my touch. They have been used so many times that the newly cut hardness and brightness have given way to a more comfortable use and a darker color, making them blend perfectly against the deep brown of the tree trunk. The height of the climb doesn’t bother me anymore. When I used to come here with my parents my mother always reminded me to use the safety harness when I climbed the 30 feet to the cabin hidden by the branches of the redwood tree. I, of course, only used the harness when she was looking. As soon as she wasn’t in sight, I would take it off and climb without it. The harness always seemed to slow me down. I reach the top and gently push the latch that blocks me from entering the house to the right and climb inside.

  My mother hated the word treehouse and instead insisted that this was a cabin. Dad on the other hand loved it and they would often bicker about what would be the right term for our second home. I guess they were both correct since it isn’t your average treehouse they built. When I was a child, I believed this was a hobby project for my parents.

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  They both shared the love for science but also the curiosity of creating and building new things, coming up with solutions to problems. What was better than building a fully functional home in the middle of a tree. But now I know better. The seemingly innocent reasons in a child’s mind seem long forgotten. They built this treehouse as an escape, a place to survive.

  I drop my backpack on the kitchen counter and unpack the treasures found in the forest today. Fall always means harvest time and though our earth is no longer viable to grow food in the same capacity as before the new era started, the forest still sparsely provides berries and mushrooms.

  The golden chanterelles remind me of the time gold had a huge importance in this world. Not that I lived it, but I read it in my uncle Edward’s history books. Now money has no value. All people care about are the items they need to survive and the old way of exchanging money for items has been replaced by a barter system. It’s hard to believe the stories about how people used to live before the world changed so drastically. They seem almost mythical, in a way, since humans believed they were unstoppable. New technological advances

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  were coming out weekly. A big portion of the population lived in abundance with food and water in plenty and even spent money on travels just for enjoyment. And then they got greedy, not wanting to care for the warning signs the earth showed them. Global warming was a myth in many peoples’ minds.

  It began with larger earthquakes. Then, there was a devastating increase in tsunamis and tornadoes. But no one slowed down to listen.

  Now the world we live in has a different map. The water level rose when the artic melted, flooding many of earth’s larger cities. The resulting extreme financial damage so many countries suffered was severe. The millions, if not billions, it took to relocate survivors when the water took over caught everyone’s attention. But by then it was too late. Some biological structures that were not foreseen, along with the weather changes, were irreversible. Farming became impossible. When you can’t produce food and when clean water is hard to come by, it doesn’t matter how many gold coins or paper bills you have. They won’t fill you or nurture your body.

  I clean the mushrooms and toss them in the frying pan, they sizzle as they hit the heat. Once they cool off, I will put them in the freezer. You can never have enough food stored away for the cold and

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  long months of winter. It fills me with a sense of calm knowing my pantry and freezer is full, nothing I even cared about before when I lived with my parents. I glance backwards to the family portrait that hangs on the tree trunk behind me. Tears burn in my eyes. Even though it has been two years since I saw them, the last memory of my mom still haunts me. Why did they have to leave me?

  Edward’s portrait hangs next to ours. Even in a photograph his wise eyes look like they see everything. What happened to him? Why didn’t he come like mom promised? I went back to his house a few months after living in complete loneliness, but it looked untouched. It was the same as before but only dirtier, a ghost of what it used to be. The only visible difference was a brown stain on the kitchen floor. My mind instantly told me it was dried blood, but my heart wouldn’t listen, it still won’t. I grabbed a few canned items and snuck out, careful so no one would see me.

  When I got to the treehouse two years ago it was stored with clean water and food so I could survive for six months. After that, I had to take care of everything myself. With a mother as a botanist and plant scientist and Dad as a biological scientist, thankfully they had taught me a thing or two about plants and growing them. Maintaining
our garden

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  and helping my parents grow vegetables had been on my chores for as long as I can remember. But my parents had made it clear that our treehouse was never something we talked about, especially the garden. I don’t know exactly how my parents got access to soil that could grow crops, but I know it doesn’t exist outside their lab. I wish I had someone to ask about these things. There are so many questions unanswered.

  Dad would be careful to explain all the plants and their different needs, he would always allow me to have my own seeds that I would grow from scratch. Mom would be more scientific about it, always remarking their Latin names along with how to best build a garden to meet nutritious needs. I never cared for the science behind it all. I just loved doing something with my hands, nurture something that was so alive. I wonder now if they were preparing me for surviving by my own hands all along.

  I put the pan with the golden mushrooms by the window to let them cool down and head up the stairs toward the roof. The wooden staircase swerves around the trunk up toward the ceiling. I hop up more than walk and push through the door to get out in the fresh air. The warm sun’s rays hit my face and the brightness makes me squint for a second. There is a light breeze playing with some strains of my hair and

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  I tie it back in a knot. Our roof is a steady platform that leads to three different paths, each one located on one of the main branches in the tree. I cross the small bridge to my right. I pull away one of the branches blocking my way, some of the leaves have already started to change their colors to a beautiful palette of red and orange. Behind the branch, a second building comes into view, a long rectangular shape compared to the oval shape of our house. The hard and clear plastic covering the sides along with the roof looks misplaced sitting on the big branch. I still can’t help but bubble with pride at the beautiful structure my parents created. The practical sense is almost more impressive than the aesthetic look. A roof made of strong plastic lets the sun find its way to the growing plants underneath, small holes in the plastic is strategically placed above the garden boxes to allow a natural watering process. The water is also collected in tanks on each side of the building, and later used to water the plants when the rain shines with its absence.

  I run my hand over the potato plants to my left. The flowers are almost ready to bloom, which means I can soon harvest the vegetables hiding under the dirt. My parents built two of these structures in the tree, making this a self-sufficient home. Most of the things I need to

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  survive, I can grow myself. It might not always be the tastiest, but I don’t have to go hungry like so many others. I pick up the basket in the corner and collect the ripe vegetables.

  As I collect the dark green kale, I can’t help but think about all the starving people, that don’t have the luxury that I do to be able to grow my own food. This glass house wouldn’t be possible it if wasn’t for my parents and the soil they were able to sneak out from their lab. Regular soil didn’t let the vegetable and fruit grow anymore, the way it did before. Industrial farming is obsolete now. It had started with taking longer for the plants in the processed soil to grow, too many pesticides and chemicals had ensured that. And if the farmers managed to grow anything it would often come out rotten or spoiled. But it wasn’t just the soil that was the problem, first and foremost you also had to be in a place with weather conditions tolerable for sustaining life. Almost half of the places on earth’s surface are now unlivable. If it was wasn’t rising water levels taking over, it was either extremely warm or unstable because of natural disasters happening on regular occasions. So, even though the earth has stayed the same round ball in space, it now seemed so much smaller.

  I smile as I remember my old life, so innocent to the reality

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  outside of our gated community. A low squeak interrupts me in my train of thoughts and I look down to see Einstein at my feet, anxiously looking up to see if I have something for him. “Well, hello there, Einstein.” I crunch down and run a finger over his soft fur. Having a pet mouse is not ideal in my home, but I found him when he was little. He had most likely been taken from his nest by a bird that accidentally dropped him on the tree branch outside the door to the garden house. He looked so frail and innocent when he was lying outside in the rain; too scared to even move. I couldn’t help but provide him some food and shelter. I guess living in solitude will do that to a person. I’m so starved for company I keep a mouse around as a companion. “Here you go littles.” I pick up a small piece of old cheese from my pocket and give it to Einstein who gives off another squeak and runs to the little house I built for him. I figured if I feed him on a regular basis, he won’t try to get into my food storage to steal.

  I check on the other garden house as well to make sure everything is growing like it should. I pick up a few tomatoes that are ripe and plant some more lettuce and spinach. The soil from the lab makes everything grow stronger and at twice the speed as normal. It also doesn’t lose its nutrients and can be used over and over. I have no

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  idea why our government hasn’t made this accessible to the whole population.

  Even though I have the magic soil, I still need to take care of the plants and make sure I keep planting new ones to take the over what I use up or what grows old. In the winter I will pull an isolating cover over the house and hang the growing lamps to take over when the sun’s rays aren’t strong enough. Thanks to the solar panels covering one of the branches high in the tree I have electricity. For cloudy and rainy days, the small wind turbines attached at different locations bring in electricity. But, I must make sure not to use up too much. I learned that in the beginning of my stay here. I would listen to music freely and sleep with the lights on. It only took a few cloudy days for the electricity to go off. Music and light helped chase away my fears and loneliness. It took several months before I could fall asleep at ease without either. I still wake up from nightmares every night, but I have gotten used to it. I can usually fall asleep without staying up for hours afterwards, which was the case in the beginning.

  On my way down, I put out a few acorns I found in the forest in hopes my new friend will make it back. I have seen a squirrel outside my windows a few times and I hope he will return. I have already given

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  him the name Musk, after Elon Musk, a historical pioneer in the fields of environmental-friendly companies. The squirrel doesn’t have any resemblance to the man, like my little mouse resembles Einstein with his white long whiskers and big round eyes. I don’t even know what Elon Musk looked like. It just seemed fitting to name my new friends after former scientists or environmentalists. Repeating the names here in the cabin where I’m alone reminds me of home and how we often used these names along with other people of importance in history around the dinner table with my parents. We would always eat dinner together. Some nights Uncle Edward would join us if he wasn’t working late, which was often the case. Lively discussions would take place over home-cooked meals. The subject was often historical events that had changed the course of our history and how certain events, or people could have saved us from what happened if they were given the trust or the opportunity by the government. It’s funny how I now look back at such a memory with fondness and would do anything for a dinner like that again. But back then I used to roll my eyes over the passionate discussions and look at the clock and wonder when I could go to my room.

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  I read one of the books about plant life as I eat my tomato soup. Just as in our other house, this too holds a whole library; shelves line the walls on each side of my parents’ queen-size bed. I have already read all of them, so the information is not new to me. Even though I know the words by heart, it seems difficult to focus and the words blend together. Going into the village always creates an unease with me. Technically, I don’t have to go. I have enough of the soap and detergent to last me a few more weeks. But my salt, sugar, milk and egg rations are
all out. I can survive without it but doing so is blander. And life right now is bland enough.

  I abandon the book because I can’t focus on reading. Instead, I write a list of things to bring with me. Mixed emotions of excitement and fear are fighting inside of me. The people I barter with are the closest thing to friends and family now and the seclusion of this life has my mind screaming for any human interaction. But at the same time, I remember that time I first went to barter and the gang that runs the village jumped me. I shudder at the memory and force it out of my mind. Thinking about it will only add to my regular nightmares and tonight I need all the rest I can get. Tomorrow will be a long day.

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  Chapter 2

  As I get closer to the village, I pull my forest-green hoodie over my hair and let it cover part of my face. The hoodie used to belong to my Dad. It was one of his favorites. At work he always looked proper with freshly pressed shirt, tie and slacks. But at home and the days he had off, he preferred more comfortable and practical clothes. I’m sure it looks ridiculously big on me but if it hides that I’m a girl I’m better off, safer. When I pull it close, I can still smell his cologne. It gives me courage.