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THE WORLD WAS STRAPPED WITH A PUNISHING DUALITY. Age-old norms of dark and light were infused with octane: the days were hot and windy, the nights frigid cold. There was a white-gray dust constantly in the air: thick, snow-like, and ashen. The dust was blown about, forced into the sky, and allowed to fall in a churning vortex. The world was inside a vacuum with a full bag; it was a snow-globe constantly being shaken. 

     

When the sun fell, the sky would ignite with dry lightning, red as blood. Never once did the storm bring rain. The thick clouds were ever present, hiding the celestial faces above. If one could get above the clouds, they could get their heads above the thick dust and even stand above the storms. In theory, anyway. Hannah could never get up that high. She could only dream of above the dust, where it was clean and beautiful.

     

 Hannah climbed down a shallow hole beneath a pointed boulder. It was a dangerous decision. Spiders, snakes, Shrikes--anything could have been waiting for her down there, but she was stupid with exhaustion and that made her fearless. She felt around with a dull knife and a bare hand, poking around the dark and inviting something to bite her, sting her, maim her… but nothing did. The thought crossed her mind that it had been months since she’d seen even an insect in the Wastes and wondered if they, too, had been wiped out by the devouring dust. She peeled the sweaty coat off her back and threw it down onto the blanket of dust that had gathered there: a soft place to rest. She brought her companion down into the hole where they could keep warm.

       

The child pressed closely to Hannah's chest. There were no cries of discontent or frustration or fear, like in the early days of their journey together. There was only a silent acceptance. Hannah thought that the boy had matured a decade in a month. Or… perhaps it was the other way? Maybe Sable's silence wasn't the mark of fortitude but of an infant-like dependency. Whatever the circumstances of his silence--fortitude or not--Sable no longer spoke. Not in the day. Not at night. It made the journey somehow lonely, as though Hannah was tending a toy soldier instead of a child. No… No, Hannah couldn’t think like that. She wouldn’t let herself think like that. Without Sable, Hannah wouldn't have made it so far across the Wastes. Despair, swift and deadly, would have finished her. With Sable in her care, Hannah wouldn't stop moving. She wouldn’t stop pressing on. 

     

Not until they reached the coast.

     

Nights in the Wastes were longer than the nights Before. It took longer for the sun to ripen in the sky, due to the dust overhead. This made the darkness a long, thorough companion to the two as they traveled. Nights weren’t for sleeping. Rest, certainly, but not for sleeping. Hannah positioned herself so that she could keep her right eye on the hole’s entrance, since her right glasses lens had the fewest cracks and therefore provided the clearest vision--cloudy though it was. Night became full-fledged and Hannah checked every half-hour to make sure there wasn’t a little face at the entrance of their hole, peering at them with beady little eyes that haunted Hannah’s subconscious. There were ugly things in the Wastes. And ugly people, too. The kind Hannah didn’t want to find them.

 

Eventually, Hannah drifted. Her nightly dreams were exhausting recreations of her travels in the Wastes. She relived the long days of walking, the dull ache in her stomach, the stale smell of her respirator, the constant thirst and dry mouth, the perpetual fear of being discovered. When she finally returned to wakefulness, she felt as though she’d gained nothing from her sleep. She felt a groan rise up in her throat as she thought of her empty stomach. She silenced herself, not willing to rouse Sable yet. There’s no point in rushing the day. I have nothing to give him.

 

They had consumed the last of their food supply yesterday, finishing off the crackers and the half-can of tuna she’d been stretching. There was nothing to forage. The trees didn’t produce fruit, the bushes didn’t produce berries. There was no game to catch and kill and eat. There was nothing out here. Hannah’s only hope was to find an abandoned house or store where she could salvage something… that is, as long as no-one else had gotten there first. Hannah wouldn’t dare approach the living. Not anymore. Whatever calories were in the pair’s systems was all they’d get until she could uncover more food. She’d heard somewhere that people can only live three days without water. Hannah didn’t know if that was true, but their water supply would only stretch another two days. Soon they would have nothing. She needed a miracle to get them to the coast. 

 

Hannah shut her eyes and brushed Sable’s hair with her fingers, gently working out the dust and grime. She imagined the coast. She could almost see the clear blue skies and blue-green waves rolling up to the sandy shore. She imagined herself standing with the salt water at her ankles, Sable’s hand in hers as they looked at all the colorful shells. The wretched dust-filled world was at their backs, fended off by the purity of the coastal air. 

 

Hannah and Sable ran along the shore and found their way into a cove with trees--green trees, living trees. A salt breeze brushed against Hannah’s tired skin and she stretched her arms, trying to grab the sun in a joyful embrace. Sable lunged into the waves, splashing Hannah, who grinned with her whole face. Sable stripped out of his filthy Wasted clothes and washed his matted hair in the sea. Hannah joined him, pulling the clothes off her skin. She’d worn them so long they’d almost joined her, bonding to her flesh like lichen. She tore herself free and leapt into the cool, cool water, wearing only her broken glasses. All the filth washed away.

 

Sable elbowed her. Hannah jolted awake. 

 

Sable wiped a glob of gray-speckled mucus from under his medical mask and drowsily opened his eyes. He hadn’t meant to elbow her. Hannah turned to the opening of the hole. The sun was up. Sable rolled over and sat up with his back stooped to keep from bumping his head on the boulder. He looked like a hunched teddy bear gathering dust on a collector’s shelf. Hannah adjusted her glasses and laid her head down for another minute or two. She felt she’d witnessed a sweet glimpse of their future and, for the first time in months, had a good dream. It was enough to make her cry. She didn’t. Instead, she wiped the crystals from her eyes, then sat up and faced the dismal light.