Page 4 of Ablaze

The real unknown is what truly scares me. As I get closer to Utah, and the larger city of Salt Lake, I feel the anxiety creeping up in my chest. It makes me feel confused. I know I’m walking on foot, but I feel like I’m on a speeding train headed straight into a wall. I think about speeding up my travel and as I close the distance to Salt Lake, I think I should be able to find transportation.

When I passed through Denver, I heard rumors that a few major cities were starting to become more civilized. Salt Lake City was rumored to be the leader of this movement. I heard that they have started a free trading system for goods, have clean water and food readily available at a price. I couldn’t help but smile to myself at the thought of a good meal. I’m really tired of eating nuts and berries and killing small animals that I randomly come across in the woods. I regret not rationing the food my parents supplied me with in those first few weeks. They had given me a two-month supply, and I blew through it in a month. Hopefully those rumors are true because I’ve got my hopes up on finding some good chow. Besides my mystery girl, food is always the other thing on my mind. Oh… water. Of course. Water is always on my mind.

I’ve got my gear packed and loaded up on my back. The last remnants of the sun have faded out, and the stars are visible in the sky. I dampen the fire I had for my food and make sure that it’s completely out. It’s time for me to start moving and make my way into Utah. I found out about this trail right outside of Denver after some major haggling. I had to give up some flashlight batteries to find out the easiest way through this rocky, mountainous region. I must have gone back and forth with the local guy for half an hour. I had to dig through my bag until we found something he would trade the information for. I didn’t have a choice though. I’m no expert at climbing, and the terrain in this area is almost all rough rock and canyons. If I wasn’t in the position that I am, I’d stay here longer. The days have been extremely hot but dry, and the nights have been cooler to walk through. The land seems peaceful, and that’s been in a nice change since this whole mess began.

I’ve started down the path that I paid for, and it’s taking my full concentration. When my mind starts to wander, I find myself being startled back into reality with my feet slipping on the rocks beneath them. It’s a steep climb down and as I take my time with my foot holds, I begin to lose track of the time. It’s taking me a long time to climb down. I don’t realize how much time has passed until I make it to the bottom of my descent, and I’m on flat land again. I realize only then that it’s taken me almost all night to make it down the mountain and inside the border of Utah. If that was the easiest path, then my trade was a good one. I’m covered in dirt sticking to my arms from the sweat. For an inexperienced rock climber, it sure has been hard. Thankfully, I’m in excellent physical condition.

The color of the ground below my feet surprises me since I’ve only ever seen it in photos. I reach down and touch the orange dirt and quickly brush it off my hands. It’s almost clay-like and smears in my hand to leave a stain. I keep walking forward and realize that I’ve climbed straight down into a canyon, and the only way to continue on this path is to climb up and out on the other side. I walk for a few minutes and reach the far side of the canyon. I start to look for places that I can grip with my hands and feet to make my way up. I’ve just placed my right foot on the rock and go to push myself up when a man’s voice booms out behind me.

The echo bounces off the canyon walls and stills me. I slowly take my foot down off the rock and turn around to face the man. When I turn around, there isn’t just one man standing with me in the canyon, there are four standing about 300 feet away from me. The men are holding weapons pointed and drawn directly at me. This can’t be anything good.

I stand still with my hands up in the air. I try to remain calm as they walk toward me. My heart is beating so hard, it fills my ears with the blood pumping through me. They are the hunters, and I am their prey. As they approach me, I recognize one of the men. He’s the guy I made the trade with back outside of Denver. I gave him the batteries for the path information. That’s when it hits me—this was all one big trap. The friendly guy, the haggling of the supply for the route… the guy knew exactly what he was doing. My eyes scan the canyon looking for any way out. I am completely trapped with only one escape, which is up the rocks behind me. They’ve baited me, and now I’m at their mercy. What they don’t realize is I’m not a sheep in a lion’s den. I am the lion.

The men are within a few feet of me when they stop and the tradesman I recognize speaks up. “That’s him alright,” he says while he nods toward me. “He’s the one who wanted to know how to get out of town so fast,” he tells his friends. “He traded me some fancy batteries to find the easiest way out. I got a good look in his bag too”. He points his finger at my bag.

The older, heavy-set man of the group, who is clearly their leader, looks me up and down. He spits nonchalantly on the ground, and I can see he’s only got about five teeth in his head. His thick, gray beard holds drops of the spit he just released from his mouth. I look at him with disgust, and he gauges my reaction. Before I can speak, he racks his shotgun and says, “The bag.” He advances forward and stops in front of me.

His men move closer to me and nudge the straps of my backpack with one of their guns. I slowly take the bag off my back and put it on the ground at my feet. One of his men with dirty hands snatches my bag up and starts digging through it. I stand there, staring at their fat leader. He never takes his eyes or his gun off me. I keep my face calm and silently pray that this idiot going through my bag doesn’t feel around on the bag itself. My parents didn’t raise a fool, and I’ve got my orange water pills hidden in the lining of the bag. I’ve also got my maps hidden there too.

“All he’s got in here are some dirty clothes, a few batteries, a flashlight and some old wrinkled letter,” one of the men says disgustedly as he pokes through my bag. He looks back at the guy I had done the trade with a few days ago with pure hatred. “You drug us out all this way for a few batteries and a flashlight! It’s almost light out, and you’ve wasted our night!” he screams. “We could have been a part of the gas leak.”

“Quiet.” the leader tells them calmly. “Search him for anything he may have on him,” he tells his men. They come closer and start patting my body down. They pull the ID tag out from under my shirt and rip it from my neck. The pain from the metal cutting my neck hurts, and I instinctively put my hand to my neck that’s slightly bleeding. One of the men takes the tag over to their leader. He shines his light onto my tag and reads my information aloud.

“Jesse Foxworth. Dome citizen. 21 years old.” His group of men laugh, and he asks, “You’re a long way from the Dome kid. What are you doing out this way?”

I stare him straight in the eye and reply with a lie, “I haven’t lived in the Dome since I turned 18. I was in Indiana when the disaster happened, and I’m working my way west to start a life in this new world.”

He holds my gaze, and after a few seconds of silence his face tells me he’s pleased with my answer. He shrugs and says, “I guess some people can start over now. Not in this town though. We’re going to take your valuables, but we’ll leave you the clothes and bag. Crawl up the canyon wall and keep going straight. Don’t come back here. Ever! Or we will kill you.” He never once loses my gaze.

The man searching my bag throws it to the ground. He stuffs the batteries and flashlight into his own bag. The black envelope falls out of my bag, spilling the photo of the mystery girl onto the dirt. He reaches down and pulls the photo off the ground. His smile is so disgusting and perverted that I have to hold in my urge to rip his throat open. He looks up at me and asks, “Who’s this one, your girlfriend? I’d like a go at her. Where are you hiding her?” He holds up the photo for the others to see. They’re all laughing and having a good time. I just stare at him and don’t answer. Their leader quiets them down which is almost a punishment for them. The pervert throws the photo back to the ground like a playing card and starts to walk away. Their leader continues to eye me and point his gun at me as they retreat.

I hold my hands up in the air as the men walk away from me. I wait until I can’t see them in the canyon anymore before I reach down and begin to pick up my things. I feel my backpack first, and the pills are still in the lining. These idiots think they stole everything valuable to me, but they have no idea. I am more than the average loner passing through their dirt town. I pick up my clothing and shove it back into the bag. I bend down and dust off the photo of the girl. The thought of someone hurting her enrages me. Maybe she’s beginning to grow on me more than I realized. What did they mean about a gas leak? The only one in that group with any brains is their fat leader. Those idiots would probably accidently kill each other playing with gas. Nonetheless, now I’m curious. Is there a person out there letting off gas?

Sadie

My mother once told me as a little girl that nothing ever turns out as you plan. Well she was right about that. I’ve been in Utah a few days now and it’s nothing like what I thought it would be. When I crossed the border into Utah, I found water that I could use my pills on. That got my hopes up for getting into Salt Lake easily and then on to Antelope Island. The first night in Utah, I climbed over rocks and canyons to make it into a town. My legs got so scratched up, it looks like I’ve been in a cage fighting with animals. I had to barter in town for a new pair of pants to stop the people from staring at my scratched-up legs. Here, people are more civilized than what I’ve experienced these past few months. I was able to pay my passage with one of my diamonds on a wagon cart that brought me into Salt Lake City. The wagon travelled during daylight hours; thankfully it was covered. As it was, I probably lost three pounds in sweat alone.

Today is my first day in Salt Lake City; I arrived just as it was getting dark. This is the most put-back-together city that I’ve seen since the disaster happened. The wagon cart carries us straight into downtown. The streets are lined with signs and stores. They’ve got everything for a price. Hot meals, clean water, clothing, transportation, lodging… the list could go on and on. I think I can be safe here for a day or two to rest. I want a real shower and some real food. I saw a sign for a lodging house above a drink spot as we passed. I’ll go there first to see about a roof over my head for when the next daylight comes. The cart finally stops, and the handful of people I’ve traveled with scatter off the cart. I pull my backpack onto my back and begin to walk the bustling streets that we’ve just passed.

I can’t get over how organized this town is. It makes me really believe that something good awaits me at Antelope Island. I’m so close to where I need to be. I wonder what’s waiting for me there. Before I can let my mind daydream too much about my destination, I snap back to reality and remember that I have to take it one day at a time. As I’m looking in one of the shop windows, I catch my reflection. My face is covered with specks of dirt from the ride into town. My hair has grown at least four inches and desperately needs a cut. My classic ponytail grows heavier by the day. I’ve let all my cosmetic appearances go since the disaster, not that I was too into that sort of stuff anyways. Maybe I’ll find someone to cut my hair while I’m here or at least a pair of scissors to do it myself.

My good mood is quickly soured when I catch a young man in the glass eyeing me on the other side of the street. I turn around to glare at him, but he’s disappeared as fast as I can turn. It makes me think of the man in the woods. He’s filled my dreams and turned them into nightmares. I leave the shopfront and continue my walk along the street. I glance at the faces of the men who pass by me. Will I see him again? I push the question out of my mind. I remind myself that I need to stop being so paranoid. I’m sure it was just a coincidence that our eyes met. He was probably waiting for someone and left. It’s still dark outside, and there isn’t much light spilling out onto the street so I can’t be sure. I shrug my shoulders, trying to forget the moment. I tighten my grip on my backpack straps and keep my head down as I walk the next few blocks.

I stop outside the drink spot and look inside the windows. They have thick, green curtains pushed to the sides allowing people to see inside during the night hours. The place is full of people laughing and having a good time. They all appear to have a drink in their hands. It looks like alcohol in some, but many are holding waters. They’ve got gas lamps going around the room to keep it bright enough. It looks like a safe place to go into. I start at the door and stop to read the sign hanging above the entrance.

No Free Stays. Everyone Pays. Inquire Within.

I open the door and walk through the entryway. The lighting is vastly improved from anything I’ve experienced since the disaster. It’s been so long since I’ve been indoors at night that I didn’t really know what to expect. The gas lamps are evenly spread throughout the long room to allow people to see where they are walking and who they are interacting with. I move my bag to one shoulder and put it in front of my body to maneuver through the crowd easily. I make my way to the bar and wait while the bartender pours drinks for some men on the other side. There is nowhere to sit in the entire place, and everyone is standing around with their drinks in hand. When he’s finished with his customers, I try to get his attention, but the noise of everyone talking drowns out my voice. He starts serving another customer with his back still to me.

“It’s a shame a lady can’t get a drink around here,” a man says as he walks up and stands beside me. He startles me as he appears so fast.

I try to be polite and just smile. I nod my head to acknowledge his comment. I keep my eyes on the bartender, and I can see out of the corner of my eye the man beside me is still looking at me. I turn my head and look directly at him. I don’t recognize him so that gives me a wave of relief. I eye the door behind him, and my exit is still clear. The bartender has finished up and makes his way back to this side. Before I can get his attention, the man beside me yells over the crowd to him.

“I’d like a large glass of water, and get this lady anything she’d like,” he says to the bartender as he motions to me.

“That won’t be necessary,” I say, trying to be polite to the man. I don’t want the bartender to think that I’m with this stranger. I turn my attention back to the bartender and ask him for more information about the rooms mentioned on the sign outside. The bartender looks at me for a minute and makes the decision that I’m serious and I must have some way to pay him. He tells me that the rooms are located above the bar. It also includes a shower and my safety till the end of the next daylight. He also makes a point to say, “We don’t want any trouble around here, and I try to keep it out of my rooms. If you’ve got yourself in a bind, keep moving.”

I assure the bartender that I won’t cause a problem and that I’m just here for a day or two until I pass through. He motions for me to come around to the end of the long bar, and I can see the man who was beside me trying to pay attention to our movements without being obvious. When I get to the end of the bar, he asks me how I’ll be paying. I ask him what items he needs for payment. He mentions water pills, but I know those are too hard to come by so I tell him I have none. I ask him if he’ll take a map, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that it will do. I don’t need it being this close to Antelope Island.

---