The heat beat against him like a car crashing into a liquor store. Michael was dragging his feet against the coarse sand, every step made as if it was his last. Only through his sheer iron determination was he able to continue in these inhumane conditions.

He had a goal that he had to reach no matter what happened to him. He had to get this for them so that she wouldn’t have to struggle. For that to happen he had to reach his destination and make it back alive.

The thing he was looking for, water. Water was the only resource in the world that still mattered in this godforsaken desert. It was through this clear liquid that people were still able to survive in these unforgiving conditions. Because if you knew where to look, the desert was filled with food. It was only water that was a limited resource in this dry desert. Only a few sources for it still remain.

The most commonly used was moisture farming. Even in this impossibly hot desert moisture was present in the early mornings. Those with the equipment and the knowledge on how to harvest this moisture was able to live with what little comfort one was still able to get their hands on in this destroyed world.

Michael was not one of these people and therefore had to get water through different means. He would seek out natural areas where water condensed from the cold night air.

These places were extremely rare, and sometimes he would find nothing and have to rely on less honourable ways to get water. Today was shaping up to be one of those days’ bad days. He had checked the usual nooks and crannies where water naturally condensed.

But today it had vaporised before he was able to get to them. This meant he had no choice but to attempt to procure some water from one of the nearby moisture farms without getting caught.

The closest farm to him was the one owned by Billy Johnson. He was a mountain of a man with enough muscles to make even a grizzly bear jealous. To make matter worse, Billy was one of the only people in the entire desert that still had a gun and ammunition.

This made him extremely dangerous to steal from as a single unarmed man. Michael felt the thirst in his thought and knew he didn’t have time to think it through. The midday sun was approaching so he had to be out of the direct light before that happened.

Nothing that moved outside in this time survived that long, the sun’s rays were able to cook a man alive was he to stay outside longer than five minutes. And even then, it would take a day to recover from being outside for even that long.

He didn’t want to experience that, so he quickened his pace through the sandy hills, for he knew that he had to also make it back home before the sun truly set in.

He was slowly approaching Billy moisture farm. It was situated at the bottom of a valley. Between two huge dunes that made for a hidden area which would also increase the effectiveness of the catchers, the moisture catchers themselves were huge metal contraptions of interweaving patterns comprised of a special metal developed just before everything went bad.

It was supposed to provide easy clean water to all people in the world, even those that live in dry climates and was hailed as one of the greatest inventions to be made in that generation.

But now only a few still remain functional, most got destroyed while others weren’t maintained correctly and therefore broke down on their own. Billy was one of the few people left with the proper know-how to maintain these moisture catchers, which was why no one had stolen them from him.

The moisture that condensed on these catchers flowed down the metal mesh into a container that was dug into the sand to reduce evaporation as much as possible. He didn’t have the time to dig up the containers and dig them down again before Billy came to collect his water.

His best bet to get water was to put his canteen in the space between the moisture catcher and the funnel that transported the water into the container.

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He looked around him to see if Billy was anywhere near before he ran towards the moisture catchers as quickly as he could. He knew he was wasting energy, but he had to be quick he didn’t know when Billy would decide to bless him with his presence.

He uncorked his canteen and placed it against the bottom of the catcher where there still flowed a small trickle of water.

“Water,” he thought to himself. It had seemed so unimportant before. You could always get your hands on water. It was an easily available resource that was used freely to do whatever you wanted.

As he looked back it all seemed so wasteful now. Here he was stealing water from someone else to survive another day.

Sometimes he felt like he should be moving north where water was still aplenty. But then he remembered the catastrophic storms that terrorized the north daily, he no longer felt that need. The desert might be hellishly hot and dryer than it had any right to be, with sand that would get into every nook and cranny. It was still better than having to walk through constant floods and winds capable of ripping out fully-grown trees with ease.

A cold sensation on his hand alerted him that his canteen was full. He put the cap on and ran for the hills. He had stayed there too long, the chances of him being discovered by Billy was increasing exponentially each second that he remained. He had to get a fair distance away quickly, even though he knew it was a bad idea to run in the desert for extended periods as it wasted energy and water.

His thought was interrupted by the loud sound of a gun firing. He felt the air ripple right beside his ear as a projectile flew right beside it.

“GET BACK here you MOTHERFUCKER!” he heard someone yell behind him. Going by the method of elimination he assumed that he had just been discovered by Billy and he doesn’t sound happy. Michael speed up, adrenalin was pumping through his veins.

He made sure to move unpredictably to reduce the chance for him to get hit. He would pretend to run right and then quickly move to the left instead. He kept on dodging bullets until he felt he was comfortably out of shooting range.

“DON’T YOU DARE RETURN YOU DISGUSTING MAGGOT, I WILL NOT HESITATE TO BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OPEN!” He heard Billy shouting at him out in the distance.

Michael sighed he had made it out by the edge of his teeth. Had Billy been just a little bit of a better shot he would not have survived. On the bright side, he had achieved his goal and could return home victorious. that was until the next time she was running out of water and he had to once again go out searching for more.

With those thoughts running through his head to turn towards his home, and with a brisk pace began walking towards it ignoring the constant heat that surrounded him.

Half an hour later he was almost home when suddenly he felt the wind stop. There was always a small breeze running through the desert blowing around the sand. But now there was nothing, and that was a very bad sign. When the winds then turned and began blowing in the opposite direction he was crippled by despair.

These were the warning signs of a great sandstorm. Now and then she would tear through the desert blowing up sand and people with it. The sands inside it move so fast that they might as well be small knives. With resurging vigour, he half walked half ran towards his shelter. He was lucky that it was nearby when the storm was approaching.

There it was just in the horizon his shelter, its entrance covered by a thin layer of sand, but he knew it was there. He was almost there and at the right time too. he could see the sandstorm approaching with unprecedented speed, it moved through the desert like a great tsunami wave move through the ocean.

He knew he couldn’t make it to the door before the storm hit so he took his protective glasses on and wrapped his scarph around his face. it was at the right time too for the storm moved quicker than he thought and rolled over him as he was halfway to the shelter.

The wind threw him to the ground like a dirty rag and he was immediately covered in sand. He fought himself up and almost crawled his way forward. He had to reach the door, he had to get home, she needed him. With sheer willpower, he fought his way through the storm almost getting blown away multiple times but at last, he arrived at his destination tired and aching muscles.

He turned the handle and opened the door as little as needed and squeezed through. He closed the door and promptly collapsed on the floor, unable to move an inch more. The sweet embrace of unconsciousness took him out of his misery and into the sweet dreams of yesteryear.

He awoke in his bed some hours later. It would seem that she had carried him to his bed when she found him at the door. He heard someone approach his bedside.

“Dad are you ok” he heard the person say.

He smiled and looked up at Charly his 5-year-old daughter.

“Yes, I am fine” he answered while he raised himself into a sitting position.

“Just ran into a little sandstorm nothing to worry about” he assured her.

He could see it in her eyes, she didn’t believe him. He knew that he shouldn’t lie, but it was his duty as her father to protect her and take care of her. It was his fault the world was like this. Him and all the others from his generation. The least he could do was to sacrifice his own body so that she may have a chance to survive.