Alyssia huddled behind one of the few stone outcroppings along the road. She had been walking for the last week and a half with the occasional short ride on a flatbed transport. In her right shaking hand she held the pistol she had taken from Lucas’ body. She was long since out of food and even water was becoming a distant memory.
The darkness and cold of the night pressed in around her. Fortunately, this being a terraformed planet she didn’t have to worry about wildlife. Unfortunately, that same lack of wildlife, or any natural resources to speak of, was robbing her of the chance to survive without human intervention.
So far as she could remember, and her memory was not doing well, it had been almost two full days since she had last had any water. She hadn’t urinated at all since yesterday morning. Nothing was quite working right; her hands would not stop shaking and her thoughts kept sliding around in her head like ice cubes on a hot pan.
Somewhere deep in her mind, a thought skittered by, something about dehydration and her time running out. She brushed it aside, she didn’t have time for that now. Trying to steady her hand on the pistol, she listened. Already two heavily laden enclosed transports had whizzed by in the two hours she had been sitting here. There was no way she could even get those to slow down, never mind stop. But the much slower flatbed transports, many of those had nothing more than thin plastic around the driving compartment, sometimes nothing at all.
The distant hum of a gravity drive came to her from the direction she had come from. It was slow in reaching her, her mind was slow in processing it. But eventually, she realized it must have been one of the slower flatbed transports. Very slow by the sounds of it. She gathered the last of her remaining strength and waited.
When it sounded no more than twenty meters away, she moved as quickly as she could without risking a fall. Moving into the middle of the road she raised the pistol in both hands and pointed it at the oncoming transport. As the lights of the transport fell on her, the driver brought the vehicle to a slow and ponderous stop about five meters away.
Alyssia suddenly realized she hadn’t given any thought to what she would do if the transport hadn’t stopped. She wasn’t certain in her current state she would even have had the presence of mind to jump out of the way. Squinting into the bright lights of the transport, she belatedly realized another downside to her plan, she could barely make out the shape of a man sitting at the front of the vehicle.
She opened her mouth to speak and nothing but a dry rasp came out. She swallowed several times, trying to work moisture back into her parched throat. It felt like she had a mouth full of sand and dry leaves. After several seconds, she tried again.
“Get out,” she rasped. She realized her voice was unsteady and it sounded thin and weak even to her ears. The man on the transport must have heard the lack of conviction in her tone because he didn’t so much as twitch. Alyssia was so close to giving up, she just wanted to sleep. She was so tired and sore and thirsty. She would have given anything for a drink of water. “Please,” she said piteously.
Finally, the man moved. He stepped out of his transport and walked slowly towards her. As he stepped into the light of the vehicle Alyssa saw he was old, his face filled with wrinkles and what little hair he still possessed was white and wispy. About a meter away from her, he stopped and just looked at her. She didn’t see any fear in his eyes, only weariness and perhaps some sympathy.
“If yer gonna shoot me girl,” the man said, “ya could at least do me tha favour of makin it quick. If not, I’ve got places ta be”
Alyssia would have started to cry if she could have. Her body shook slightly and she wasn’t entirely certain if that was from sobs that wouldn’t come or if the tremors from her hands had moved to the rest of her body. She slowly lowered the pistol to her side. As she stood staring at the stubborn old man, the pistol dropped from her trembling, nerveless fingers.
She was done, life had kicked her in the gut too many times. Over and over again everything she had tried to do to improve her life was thrown back in her teeth. She was done, she gave life the middle finger and gave up. She turned slowly and began stumbling back towards the open desert. She would at least muster up the dignity to die on the side of the road instead of on it.
As she passed the rock she had been hiding behind earlier, she started to lose focus on the world around her. Her vision began to narrow. Suddenly it began to tilt. Her last thought was a realization that it wasn’t her vision that was tilting. She was falling. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.
Alyssia dreamed. She dreamed of food and drink. She dreamed of soft beds and clean clothes. She dreamed of a life she had never known, one where happiness was the goal instead of survival. She dreamed of death, a pleasant release from the torment that had been her life.
She felt water on her face, on her lips. A light trickle that tickled her parched throat. Coughing weakly, she groaned as the pain of reality intruded on the bliss of death her dream had promised. Dry wrinkly hands held her head gently as more water was trickled into her mouth. She heard a voice say, “Come on, girl, cannaw have ya diein right in fron of me now.”
She coughed more, her system not understanding what to do with a substance it had almost forgotten existed. She opened her eyes but all she could make out was a blurry shape above her and darkness all around. She tried to speak, to tell the shape to just let her die, but another cough came out instead. “Hush,” the voice said, “drink what ya can and rest, I will na harm ya I promise.”
She gave up fighting, perhaps the voice would pour enough water down her throat that she could quietly drown. She could think of worse ways to go. She was so thirsty that the thought of drowning sounded oddly pleasant. Unfortunately, the figure above her only continued to trickle water into her mouth. After a few minutes, she had enough moisture in her mouth to swallow properly.
She decided that drinking was better than drowning after all, if only slightly. Just as she was starting to feel like she might actually prefer to live, the figure above her took the water away. She weakly tried to raise her hand to reclaim the liquid ambrosia but the voice said, “That’ll do fer now, would na do any good ta have ya sick it all back up.” Alyssia didn’t understand, all she wanted was more water.
Dropping her hand back to her side she decided it didn’t matter anyway. She was going to die soon, all alone in this desert. That was assuming the old man she had tried to rob didn’t come kill her first. Maybe the hallucination that had been giving her water would bring her something to eat next. Sliding back into a semi-conscious state her last coherent thought was how sad it was that her own hallucination was the kindest person she had met in years.
The feeling of gentle rocking brought her back. Opening her eyes she saw nothing but the dark sky above and the blurry dots of stars. How strange, she couldn’t remotely begin to guess what was causing the rocking sensation. It probably didn’t matter anyway, she was only hallucinating it. Looking at the stars, she slowly closed her eyes again. She could think of worse sights to be her last as she drifted off again.
She felt someone picking her up and, opening her eyes, she saw a grizzled face shrouded in darkness. Her thoughts were like fleeting ghosts, almost impossible to see, nevermind pin down. For some reason, she thought the man carrying her was her father. That made no sense, her father was long gone. Wasn’t he? “Father?” she tried to say. It came out as more of a croak than a word.
“Shhh,” the shadow said, “yer safe here.”
Safe. That wasn’t an idea she had known often in her thirty some odd years of life. Wait, thirty? She was only eight years old, wasn’t she? She didn’t understand what was wrong with her, why did she keep thinking her father was gone? She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. She was in her father's arms now, so she rested her head back on his arm and let herself drift back into darkness.
She awoke on and off several more times to the sensation of water being trickled into her mouth. She swallowed greedily the few times she was conscious enough to do so. Always the water was taken away before she’d had enough. She still couldn't make out the face above her; why did she have the inkling memory that it was her father? That thought made no sense, but then, none of them did right now.
The sixth time Alyssia awoke, or maybe the six hundredth, the face above her changed. It had long hair and a soft gentle voice. “Here you go, dear, try some of this,” the voice said. A gentle hand lifted her head off the pillow behind her and a small cup was brought up to her lips. The liquid this time was warm and smelled of vegetables and meat. She swallowed greedily, it was the first thing at all like food she had tasted in a week. Or maybe it had been a month, time meant little to her anymore.
“Slow down, slow down, dear,” the voice said, “they’ll be plenty more later when you’re feeling better.”
More? There was never extra, never more. You had to finish everything you could find as soon as you found it or someone else would. Still, as she swallowed mouthful after mouthful, her stomach began to indicate it wasn’t so certain it wanted to deal with food anymore. She leaned her head back and the hand behind it gently released her back onto the pillow. Before she could think to thank the mysterious voice for the broth, she drifted back into sleep.
Twice more the mysterious female voice brought her cups of warm broth. The second time Alyssia thought she could almost make out the details of the face. It seemed her eyes were starting to behave themselves again. The woman was old and wrinkly with shoulder-length gray hair. She had a warm kindly smile that immediately made Alyssia relax. The woman reminded her of an older version of her mother.
“Who are you?” Alyssia managed to say after finishing the cup of broth.
The old woman pursed her lips then said, “My name is Verra”
Alyssia thought back, there was another person. An old man she had thought was her father for some reason. She asked, “There was… an older man, wasn’t there?”
“My husband,” Verra said, a fond smile on her face, “irascible old coot, never would let life tell him what he could and couldn’t do.”
So the old man wasn’t her father. She knew that, her father was over twenty years gone, but still the admission hurt. The hallucination had been so comforting. She tried to sit up, she had more questions for Verra, but all she succeeded in doing was bringing on another coughing fit.
Verra laid a hand on Alyssia’s shoulder. “Shhh,” she said, “sleep, girl. They’ll be time enough for talk later.”
When the coughing passed, Alyssia felt light-headed. Her vision was swimming again and her stomach felt very uncertain about its contents. She closed her eyes and concentrated on letting it settle. By the time her stomach felt better, she was already half asleep. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was disbelief that after reaching the end of her rope and finally just letting go, someone actually caught her.
Waking up sometime later, she attempted to collect her thoughts. Her mind seemed to be functioning more or less correctly again. At least she knew for a fact how old she was and where she was, that had to be a good sign. There was a lot of fuzz surrounding her memories of the last… however many days it had been. She sat thinking for a while, trying to track back through all the fuzz. The last solid memory she could dredge up was… trying to hold up a transport with her gun.
The old man, the old man whose transport she had tried to steal. He must have saved her life. But why? She had tried to rob him. Was it someone else who had found her on the side of the road? That seemed unlikely because it had been night time. Most of the transports on that road had been enclosed automated monstrosities anyway.
Finally opening her eyes, she looked around at the room she was in. It was simple, one window with the blinds closed. The bed she was laying on was comfortable, she hadn’t slept on an actual mattress in better than five years. Next to the bed was a small nightstand. On it sat the credit chips she had taken off of Lucas’s body that fateful night and a cup. Conspicuously absent, however, was her gun. Unsurprising she supposed, she had threatened the old man with it in the first place.
Pushing the covers off of her, she found she was wearing a full-length night shift. She wondered briefly who had changed her and where her clothes were, but both questions were secondary. As she slowly sat up, her stomach rumbled. Reaching for the cup on the nightstand she found it held water. Drinking slowly, she polished the cup off and wished she had more. She wasn’t exactly dying of thirst anymore, but she still felt like she could drink an entire cask of water.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she put her feet on the floor and tried to slowly stand. At first, her equilibrium shifted erratically and she had to hold on to the bed for support. After a few minutes though her center of balance came back and she was able to let go of the bed. She stood next to the bed for a minute, just to make sure everything was going to stay functional.
Once she was confident that she wasn’t going to take an unexpected detour via the floor, she began to shuffle slowly towards the door across the room from her bed. Once there she gently tried the handle, it turned. Opening the door slowly, she shielded her eyes briefly from the bright light pouring in. Outside the door was another small room. This one contained a round table and four chairs. Pictures hung on the walls at irregular intervals. There was a door to her right and one across from her; the one to the right larger and steel, the one across much like her own. To her left, there was an archway leading into what looked like a large kitchen.
Sounds came from the kitchen. The sound of someone working. Alyssia could hear the occasional clang of a pan or dish and sometimes faint humming. She briefly thought of trying for the front door, but if this old couple had any intention of keeping her against her will they would have likely locked her door. Letting her hunger win, she decided she was being overly paranoid. She slowly made her way toward the noises and smells coming from the kitchen.
On the other side of the archway was indeed a large kitchen, filled with every manner of pot, pan, and dishware Alyssia could have imagined. Standing in front of a large oven was an old woman with gray hair. A name suddenly popped into Alyssia’s head, Verra.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
As Alyssia shuffled into the kitchen, Verra turned and saw her. “Ahh child, you’re awake, good. Here let me help you.” Moving to Alyssia’s side, Verra held her around the waist and helped her over to a small table in the corner with two chairs next to it. She lowered Alyssia into one of the chairs, then moved back to the oven.
Looking back at Alyssia she said, “I should have some fresh bread done here in a few minutes if you’re hungry, child.”
At the mention of food, Alyssia’s stomach grumbled loudly. No solid food for over a week was taking its toll on her. Looking at her hands and wrists she could see her bones more prominently than she remembered. She had always been thin but she was starting to look downright emaciated now.
Chuckling at the sound of Alyssia’s stomach, Verra said, “I see that you are. Here, let me get you some soup while we wait for the bread.” Moving to a cabinet beside the oven, Verra removed a small plate and a bowl. Grabbing a ladle sitting on top of the stove, she began ladling out soup from a large pot on one of the stove’s rear heating elements. Filling the bowl, she brought it and a spoon to the table where Alyssia was sitting.
“I’ll bring you some bread as soon as it's done.” Verra said, “Here, why don't you get started on the soup.”
Alyssia’s mouth began to water, and given that she was still somewhat dehydrated, that was quite a feat. As soon as the bowl was firmly settled on the table, Alyssia grabbed the spoon and started shoveling the hot soup into her mouth. She didn’t even care that the soup was uncomfortably hot, it was food and it was amazing. Spoonful after spoonful she shoveled into her mouth, barely even bothering to chew the finely diced vegetables and meat before swallowing.
“Slow down, girl, slow down.” Verra said, “The food isn’t going anywhere, I promise. Besides it wouldn’t do to give yourself a stomach ache after all you’ve been through.”
Alyssia responded by slowing down, very slightly. By the time the bread was removed from the oven, Alyssia had completely emptied the bowl of soup Verra had given her. Smiling fondly at her, Verra took the bowl back to the stove and refilled it. She brought the bowl back along with a plate containing a thick crusty slice of bread topped with butter. Alyssia shoveled the food at a more sedate pace now that she wasn’t starving.
Still, less than ten minutes later, she was mopping up the last of the soup with the last small heel of her bread. Sitting back contentedly, she could not remember ever having felt this full. Looking down at her empty bowl, she could not help but wonder what all of this kindness was going to cost her. She felt ashamed as soon as she had the thought, but it was hard to ignore. She’d spent so many years scraping by that she didn’t believe in fate or a god anymore, but if she had she would have called it vindictive and spiteful.
Looking at her from the stove, Verra asked, “What’s your name, child?”
Alyssia hesitated for a moment, names could be dangerous, but she felt she owed this old woman something. “Alyssia,” she said.
Verra looked expectant for a moment, but when no surname was forthcoming she asked, “My husband said he found you on the side of the road nearly dead. Where were you headed out in the middle of nowhere without any food? And at your age? Where are your parents?”
Alyssia didn’t want to be rude and completely sidestep the questions, but she also had no interest in going into too many details. “Trying to get to the next city,” she said, “figured I could hire a ride. No one wanted my money though.”
Verra nodded, “Most transports on that road are automated. A few like my husband’s are still manned, I’m surprised no one stopped for you. A young girl not a day over sixteen lost in the desert and no one stops.” She tisked loudly, then said, “World is filled with terrible people these days.”
Alyssia shivered as she remembered a few transports that did stop. Some she even rode with for a few kilometers. Too many had a hungry look in their eyes though. One that Alyssia had come to recognize after that night with Lucas. She recalled one, in particular, she had had to scare off with her pistol.
Alyssia realized she hadn’t seen the old man who had rescued her since she woke up, perhaps not even sometime before that. “Speaking of your husband,” Alyssia said, “where is he? I’d like to thank him.”
Verra looked sad for a moment, then said, “He’s off transporting another load of goods to Berandasha. He should be back in a few days though.”
Alyssia nodded. Now that she had eaten she was starting to feel very drowsy. She realized her eyes were starting to droop and did her best to continue paying attention. Verra must have realized how tired she was because she said, “You still look tired, Alyssia, why don't I help you back to bed and you get some more rest. I’ll leave some bread and cheese out on the table for you if you get hungry later.”
Alyssia smiled, not trusting herself to speak, and tried to stand so she could walk back to the bedroom. She found that after sitting for only an hour her legs had already forgotten how to function. Steadying herself by bracing her hands on the table, she was considering sitting back down when Verra came up and grabbed her around the waist to help her. With Verra’s assistance, Alyssia made it slowly back to the bedroom and the bed.
As Alyssia climbed back under the covers, Verra said, “It’ll be nice to have some company while Matthew is away.” Verra sat on the edge of Alyssia’s bed for a moment, looking at her. “You so remind me of my daughter. She was beautiful at your age, just like you.” Reaching out a hand, Verra lightly stroked Alyssia’s hair and said, “Sleep well, Alyssia.”
Standing, Verra moved out of the room and closed the door behind her. As Alyssia tried to relax in the bed, she couldn’t help the nagging worry that was trying to keep her awake. This woman was so kind to her. She had a warm, comfortable place to sleep and hot delicious food to eat, and more of it than she had ever had at one sitting than she could ever remember. It was all too good to be true. Good things didn’t last for Alyssia and she couldn’t help but wonder how and when all of this was going to be ripped away from her.
Unable to completely relax, she eventually drifted off into a restless nightmare-filled sleep. Some time in the middle of the night she awoke hungry again. Standing wasn’t as much a problem as it had been before, and moving out into the common room she found the promised bread and cheese, along with a large pitcher of water. Eating her fill again, she looked out the windows on either side of the large metal door. It appeared to be night outside. Finishing off the bread and cheese and most of the water, she returned to the bedroom and went back to sleep.
For the next three days, she ate, slept, and spent time with Verra. The old woman was obviously lonely, she would talk endlessly about places she had been or people she had met. She didn’t seem to mind that Alyssia kept her thoughts mostly to herself. Alyssia was beginning to like Verra’s stories. It had been a long time since she could talk to anyone as a friend, and Verra was very willing.
Although she was doing her best to keep some distance between herself and the old woman, Alyssia was finding it difficult. She genuinely liked Verra, and when the woman offered to teach Alyssia how to cook, she couldn’t refuse. As she sat at the small table in the kitchen, Verra would go on and on about the lost art of combining raw ingredients by hand to make a meal.
By the end of the second day, Alyssia was almost beginning to feel a sliver of hope. Perhaps these kind people would let her stay, if not forever, at least for a little while. It would be a nice change of pace not to have to worry about her next meal or whether a given stranger was going to help her or try to hurt her.
That night, for the first time in years, she slept peacefully. Her stomach wasn’t complaining, her muscles weren't sore, and she didn’t have to worry about sleeping lightly to keep herself safe. It was a novel concept.
On the afternoon of the third day, Matthew returned from his trip. Alyssia was sitting in the kitchen with Verra where they’d spent most of the last three days. Verra had given Alyssia a dress she said had belonged to her daughter. The dress fit Alyssia fairly well, only being a little loose around the waist and a little snug across her fairly modest chest.
When Verra heard the door open, her face lit up, and standing from the chair she was sitting in, she rushed out into the common room. Alyssia stood slightly slower. She had almost completely regained her strength now but she wanted to give Verra a few seconds alone with her husband. Moving out into the common room, she watched as Verra hugged her husband fiercely.
Seeing Alyssia standing off to the corner, Matthew said, “I see oar foundlin is doin well.”
Verra stepped back from her husband and, looking at Alyssia, said, “Yes, she’s been great company while you were gone. Her name is Alyssia.”
“Well met, Alysha,” Matthew said, only slightly butchering her name.
Walking up to the couple, Alyssia bowed to Matthew and said, “Thank you, sir, for saving my life.”
Matthew grunted and said, “Wern't nothin, dun mention it.”
Alyssia thought that Matthew seemed uncomfortable, but perhaps that was just because she was intruding on their reunion. Bowing again, she walked back to the kitchen to help Verra finish making the evening meal.
Once the meal was done, they all ate together at the table. Alyssia could sense something was definitely wrong, Verra was her normal chatterbox, but Matthew barely spoke. He just kept glancing at Alyssia and then back at his plate. Alyssia might have thought perhaps that's just how he was but Verra kept giving him odd glances as well. For some reason, Alyssia had an uneasy feeling. She had known something bad was going to happen. Now she knew the when, but she still didn’t know the what.
After the meal, Matthew retired to his and Verra’s room without a word. Verra looked after him worriedly. “I’m sure he’s just tired,” she said. She sounded unconvinced, however. Shortly after, she too retired, bidding Alyssia a good night and sweet dreams.
Alyssia made her way to the bedroom she had adamantly refused to call her own. Something wasn’t right and she supposed she would probably find out what it was tomorrow. Things like this didn’t usually wait long to boil over. She spent a very restless night in the bed. She hadn’t bothered to get undressed on the chance whatever it was didn’t wait until morning.
She was cursing herself for starting to feel comfortable about the situation. Now her stomach was tied in knots. She didn’t want to lose the first comfort she had found since her parents had abandoned her. She wished she could have had at least a few more days, but her instincts said that whatever was going on, it would mean an end to her welcome. That's just how these things always seemed to go.
As the sun rose above the horizon and streamed in through her window, Alyssia sat staring at the door. She had barely been able to sleep that night, going over in her head all the terrible things that she suspected were likely to happen to her today. Nothing good ever stayed and the sooner she prepared herself for that the better.
Hearing movement outside her room, she did her best to calm her emotions and walked out into the common room. No one was there but she heard noises coming from the kitchen. Walking through the archway she saw Verra moving about preparing to cook some bread. The woman seemed to have lost most of her spark though. She looked as though someone had killed her favorite pet.
“Verra, what's wrong?” asked Alyssia, dreading the answer.
Looking up from the pan she placed on the stove, Verra smiled at Alyssia and said, “Oh, nothing, dear.” If Alyssia had ever seen a forced smile before, it was definitely on Verra’s face.
If Alyssia had been concerned before, she was certain now. “Verra —” she began to say.
“Matthew wanted to talk to you,” Verra interrupted, “He’s probably out by the sheds. Just out the front door and to the left.” That said, Verra went back to making bread. She did not look at Alyssia again.
Alyssia had the very distinct feeling this was going to be goodbye. Not that she hadn’t expected something like this. Perhaps Matthew didn’t trust her after she had pointed a pistol at him. Whatever the case, there was no point in hiding from it. She put whatever steel she had left into her backbone and turned for the front door. Just before she closed it behind her, she was certain she heard the sound of muffled sobbing behind her.
Doing her best to keep her own emotions in check, she turned left and headed for the sheds Verra had indicated. The door to the first one was open and inside stood Matthew. He was looking over the engine of one of his transports. Wanting to get this out of the way, Alyssia cleared her throat to get his attention.
“I know yer their girl, be with ya in a moment,” Matthew said.
Alyssia noticed that sitting beside him was a rucksack with the pistol she had tried to rob him with a few days ago attached to one side and several water canteens on the other. That pretty much told her all she needed to know. At least he wasn’t going to run her off with nothing but the clothes on her back. She forced herself to concentrate on the positives, if she didn’t she would drown in all the sorrow that was her life.
Standing, Matthew turned to face her. “I suspect ya know what this is fer,” he said, indicating the rucksack at his feet.
Swallowing back hard on the tears that threatened, Alyssia managed to keep herself composed by sheer force of will. She said, “Yes, sir. If I may ask, why?”
Matthew sighed heavily, then walked up to within a few feet of Alyssia. “Yer eyes, girl,” he said, “thar way too old fer ya face. Only one thing causes that.” He looked a bit uncomfortable, but he was forcing himself to look her in the eyes while he talked. “I ain’t got nothin gainst yer type mind ya, but I cannaw have the trouble those eyes bring botherin my Verra.”
Alyssia swallowed hard again and just nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak anymore. Walking past Matthew she stooped and picked up the rucksack. She noticed it was fairly heavy and appeared to be almost stuffed to capacity.
“My Verra packed ya nuf food to last a week er so,” said Matthew, “long with a few change o’ clothes.” As Alyssia turned back to face him, she noticed that he looked even more upset than he did before. He continued, “It ain't enough, I know. I almost talked mahself in ta lettin ya stay evenin knowin what ya are, but I cannaw risk mah Verra. I’m sorry girl, I truly am.”
Alyssia knew he was a good man, an honorable man trying his best to explain why he was doing something that didn’t feel right to him. But his explanation was just making it harder for Alyssia to keep herself together. She nodded again to Matthew and managed to say, “Thanks,” without breaking down.
Alyssia shouldered the pack and started for the road. She knew if she tried to say goodbye to Verra she would just make things worse for both of them. “If ya head right on the road,” Matthew said as she passed him, “yul git to Tressin in two days, three most.”
Alyssia just kept walking. Her eyes were filling with tears and she didn’t think she could hold them back for much longer. When she reached the road, she made the mistake of glancing back at the house. In the doorway stood Verra, her hand up to her face, obviously crying. Turning back to the road, Alyssia couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. As she walked towards the town of Tressin, they streamed down her face.
She didn’t stop crying until she was about two kilometers past the house and its sheds. The pack was heavy on her back but she wasn’t going to give up anything it contained. At least they had been kind enough to make sure she was reasonably well off. By the time she stopped for the night, she had almost managed to convince herself this was for the best.
The old couple were so kind and compassionate that she didn’t want anything bad to happen to them, and Matthew had been right, she only brought trouble. Moving off the road into the desert a short ways, she found a large boulder with a sheltering indent on one side. Sitting down, she opened the rucksack Matthew had given her for the first time.
Inside, she found a sealed package of dried meat, a small loaf of bread, several dehydrated MRE’s, two dresses like the one she wore, a blanket, a first aid kit, and other survival gear. As she sat munching on one of the dried meat strips, she found a small pouch at the bottom of the sack. In it were a handful of credit chips, their static displays indicating there was almost ten times as much money in the pouch as she currently had in her pocket from Lucas.
As she dug to the very bottom of the rucksack, she suddenly burst into tears. They streamed down her face in an unending river soaking the front of her dress. It wasn’t the money, it was the small piece of paper she found buried at the very bottom of the sack. It was a picture of Verra and Matthew, standing side by side smiling.
As the image blurred in her eyes, Alyssia held the picture to her chest and sobbed. It seemed like just when she thought she had no more tears to give, she always managed to find more. For the next twenty minutes, she sobbed and rocked herself back and forth. She so desperately wanted to give up, but the picture in her hands wouldn’t let her.
When the tears had finally run their course, Alyssia slowly and carefully packed the contents back into the rucksack. Then curling up against the rock with the sack behind her, she covered herself with the blanket. Still holding the picture to her chest, she sat there staring at the stars above her, waiting for the sleep that never came.