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2 years ago

In community: (Short) Stories / Tales(c00f)

Topics: Writing, Nanowrimo, Story, November, November21, ...

"Still in bed? It's time for some exercise."

Moms face looked white, pale and swollen in the light of the candle she held in front of my face.

"Are you ready, dearest? I've arranged everything for your second adventure. How do you feel?"

She stroked my hair, smiled but her eyes didn't see me. Mom looked far away at a place I was no part of. I studied her face. The longer I looked, the more deformed and unrecognisable it looked. I blinked, closed my eyes for a while as I smelled that rotten scent again. What was it?

"Still, tired honey bee?" Dad's voice came from the other side of the bed. He yawned and stretched himself out and was like he said ready to go although he could use a cup of tea first. I heard mom pour in tea, I heard him sip while joking with mom. I hadn't answered him but he didn't seem to mind.

"The smell makes me nauseous. I can't stand it. How can you?"

"Then you better get out of bed, drink your tea so we are out of here. With an attitude like that, you won't get far young lady."

Dad's voice sounded cold and stern. Had I said something wrong? I didn't mean to be rude.

"How do you feel? No muscle pain after yesterday's long journey? It's late so we have to go now."

Mom's voice was as soft as always and so was her touch on my shoulder. I asked myself how I felt. Underneath the blanket, my body felt fine. No pain, a warmness and pressure of the cloak. How different it was from sleeping in the cabin where the temperature was regulated automatically and sheets and blankets belong to the past.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I drank my tea while dad paced up and down.

"Go wash up quickly," Mum whispered as she pushed me towards the improvised bathroom. "Time won't wait. Extinguish the candle when you're done and put it in the corner on the floor, dear."

I nodded and washed as fast as I could with the water, washcloth and the piece my parents called soap. The soap smelled nice. Like the candle, I hid the box of soap in the corner of the bathroom.

"Finished already," Mom wanted to know. She sounded nervous, "Bring the soap with you, dear."

"I'll take care of the bowl of water."

Before Mum or I could say anything, Dad had disappeared.

"Now you need to pack what you can carry and what is important to you," Mum said to me. "Look, this bag is for you. What do you think of it? You can put in it what's important or dear to you. What you would never want to leave behind so to say but you need to carry it all yourself. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"This is my bag do you want to see what's in it?"

I wanted to but what if she wanted to know what I was taking? Mum didn't wait for my answer and shook her bag empty on the bed. The contents of her bag formed a mountain of everything and anything that I couldn't see very well. Was there a book sticking out of the heap?

"I'll give you a brief idea of what you may need and what I call difficult to part with. I have already put some necessities in your bag. Who will take the soap? You or me?"

Eagerly she began to repack her bag. I was amazed at how quickly she did that. It seemed as if everything had its own place. I watched with fascination.

"You'd better hurry, there's not much time left. We'll have to walk faster today than we did yesterday."

She didn't look up as she spoke but continued to pack steadily. How could she cram so many things into a small bag?

"Do you need help? Everything here belongs to all of us. It's part of your history, your family history and the world how it once was. What would you take with you if you can't come back here? Look here," she rattled on cheerfully, "I have one for you too. It's an old-fashioned thermos. It keeps drinks at the same temperature as you put them in. Not forever, but for a long time. I used it for you when you were a baby. The worst thing that can happen with these things is they don't. I filled yours with tea. Take the soap. What more?"

The notebook was underneath my clothes. I already took it with me. There wasn't next to my parents much precious to me. It felt as if mom was the one who packed and kept all our treasures. If she would answer all those questions and share the stories of her family I would carry history with me. My bag wasn't empty. Mom gave me a thermos, soap, put clothes and bags in it and lunch. I thought. What about the pictures?

"Can I take pictures with me, photos from the pantry? How about the food?"

"We can't take them now, we'll have to leave. Wake up earlier tomorrow so there's time. You have particular photos in mind?"

I nodded and she smiled. Perhaps it felt a relief to her nothing special was dear to me. I felt no need to drag our present life around with me in a bag I couldn't lift. Mom, dad and the notebook were all I needed. Mom packed the world in her backpack and if dad did the same we wouldn't get short on anything easily.

"Okay, it's time to go."

Dad was as cheerful as ever. "We'll do it just like yesterday. I'll go in front, you walk behind me and hold me and Mum will follow you."

"Here's the torch," Mom whispered, "you don't have to turn it on. Follow Daddy. You can wear it around your neck. I made a strap for it much easier." As we shuffled through the darkness after Dad, she hung the lamp around my neck. For a moment I thought about how I would miss the bunker and the storeroom. In a short time, both had become home. The blackout did not bother me not like it bothered others. I didn't miss the delivered meals, the communications screen, the drones and my cabin I had forgotten. It no longer felt like the safest place in the world, which it was not. Without energy, the smart city was little. No one was watching over its safety when the walls no longer had eyes and ears.

Following Dad, I climbed down the ladder. My legs felt funny.

"Muscle ache," said Dad, "keep moving and it'll go away fastest.

Despite the soreness, the walk wasn't too bad and this time I waded through the water myself while holding Mama's hand. I was proud of my achievement and Mummy and Daddy praised me.

"Just a little further and there will be a surprise," Mummy said. "I am curious to see what you think of it. While you were still in bed I thought I'd give Dad a hand."

She started walking a bit faster and encouraged me to do the same.

"I can't wait to see daddy's face. He was a bit short-tempered this morning don't you think?"

She giggled like a little child and I laughed along with her glad that Mum wasn't ill anymore and had provided a surprise.

Suddenly Dad stood still, turned abruptly and I bumped into him.
"How?"
He looked at Mum and put his arms around her.
"How, what, when did you do this?"
His voice sounded like he was about to burst into tears.
"Yesterday when you were away and today when you were still sleeping. I'm sorry I couldn't help sooner."
"You must be tired."
"You're crushing me," I said in a choked voice as I tried to push my parents apart. "What is it."
"See for yourself," Dad grinned.

There it was. Mum had made some kind of vehicle. She called it a boxcar or it was once a boxcar only bigger or something. You could sit in it and ride it. Forwards, backwards. You could pull, but you could also use your legs or hands to propel the cart.

"It did well here even with everything in it and through the water."

Dad looked at her in admiration as I did. In the cart were things from the pantry. Pots and tins of food, kitchen utensils but also what looked like blankets or clothes. Where had she got them from? I hadn't seen them in the wardrobe, the cupboard where I had seen the boxes. The boxes of which there were photos that I wanted to take with me.

"The car is fully loaded, we'll be walking today," Dad joked.

And that's what we did after the wagon was given a push forward, it followed Dad effortlessly. I had never seen a cart so nearby. How I would love to try it out. Silently I followed the cart with nom next to me till we were back at the place where the light shone at the end of the tunnel.

"Let's eat something first," mom suggested. She looked tired.

"Good plan. We have a break before we get out, cross the field and I show you two my surprise." Dad looked satisfied about how far we got and the surprise had was eager to show us.

Part 1: What's cooking

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Written by

wakeupkitty

No bio yet...

2 years ago

In community: (Short) Stories / Tales(c00f)

Topics: Writing, Nanowrimo, Story, November, November21, ...

Comments

I always like the way you write, you have a way of doing it in a simple way, every sentence is understood and it's like my mind imagines everything perfectly.

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carolinacardoza

2 years ago

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