Better Times - Facet I

Spavin Lawson felt the worn insole of his boot grate against the ball of his left foot. He knew that it would require attention soon. Otherwise, he would have a blister and the act of walking would take a heavier toll than it should. He glanced back at Clarissa to see how she was holding up to the pace he was setting on the trek across the dusty, sun-baked prairie. Her determined eyes were trained on their chosen trail ahead, undistracted by any disturbance around her. He and Clarissa had formed a union more than eighteen years earlier; a good union filled with the standard hopes and dreams for a good life and the good times that come with it. Two beautiful daughters later, the marriage was still rock solid. The good life was nowhere to be found. Catastrophic climate change had made a mockery of their hopes for a good life and their dreams of good times. Sasha was almost sixteen. A spitting image of her mother without the worry lines, she plodded along with steadfast resolve behind the woman who bore her, matching stride for stride effortlessly. She followed silently with her eyes locked on her mother’s backside rather than gawk at the scenery. By looking down, she avoided having to squint away the brightness of the high sun. Unsure of why their journey had brought them to that particular place, she obediently followed her parents’ bidding. Stephanie was not as accepting as her older sister. Only thirteen and newly introduced to hormones that affected her ability to tolerate that which she did not understand, she challenged the veracity of the barely graying man who led the small family group and she questioned the intelligence of the family matriarch who blindly followed the man. Nothing that she could see about their quest made sense to her. She would have been perfectly content to stay in the familiar surroundings of her youth. Nonetheless, she placed one foot in front of the other and followed, though not without reserved reluctance. She glared menacingly at every small shrub that had the audacity to snag at her camouflaged trousers’ legs when she wandered too close. Spavin squinted against the sun’s glare to peer across the parched prairie to study the horizon. It was a useless, too often repeated act. The horizon did not change. Walking would not change it very much very fast. Unaccustomed to long pilgrimages, the family group’s plodding pace changed it even more slowly. Days earlier, Spavin had found what he thought was a used path winding through the low, scraggly bushes that covered the flat plain. Doggedly, they had treaded the dusty dirt trail across the relatively flat prairie bent on reaching a low mountain range to the west. Their hopes were tied to finding survivable conditions in those mountains. After eight days, the mountain range seemed to be just as far away and just as unreachable. The path had been nothing more than wind blown areas between clumps of dried prairie grass and scrubby shrubs. The promise of something familiar and tangible had disappeared. Not one of them said a word as they steadfastly walked through the dust, though Stephanie thought of things to say. A small creek appeared ahead of them, lined by more of the short shrubs and bushes. It was located in a swale that crossed the wide, barren landscape between the travelers and the mountains. The dearth of tall trees on the prairie did not bode well as far as Spavin was concerned. Trees would be required to build a suitable structure for shelter. Sturdy, wide bodied trees with hardwood cores that could be hewn into flat sided logs and stacked to withstand strong storms and repel torrential precipitation, plus provide protection against winter’s cold winds both as a barrier and as fuel, were needed before they could declare a stopping place. Shrubs would not do. The spindly limbed brush was useless. Again facing disappointment, Spavin hoped their luck would hold out and the water would be clean. The water was clear, though slightly off-putting in flavor. Neither of the girls smiled at their reflections in the slow moving liquid of the stream. What they saw staring back at them were sun darkened, smudged and sweat streaked faces, a testament to the arduous trek through wind driven dust and grit. It seemed they were always walking into the wind. Even the air did not want them to reach the mountain, constantly pushing against progress and whining warnings in late afternoon when the sun gave its energy to the air-streams that rustled and rattled the parched vegetation of the seemingly endless dry prairie. Clarissa watched her daughters drink their fill from the water pool below a small ripple. The motion of the water at least gave the appearance of cleanliness. Frightened water bugs that scooted across the top of the still water assured her that the water was at least relatively potable. Though not as cool as she preferred for drinking, the water was sufficiently cool to provide some relief from the heat when she pitched water onto her face and neck with her cupped hands. Even though the layer of dirt and grime afforded some protection from the unrelenting burning rays of the sun, the cooling effect of the water renewed her energy. Their journey was barely begun and there were more miles that had to be traveled before they reached their objective. She found it hard to believe they had been traveling for more than a week, especially when she considered that the mountains they had chosen as their destination still seemed out of reach. While the females refreshed themselves at the pool and relieved themselves behind a clump of scrubby bushes, Spavin built a small fire to heat water so he could boil some of the Grakin™ supplement that he carried for quick, energy-rich meals. The Grakin™, advertised as high protein and high calorie survival fodder for soldiers, was composed of coarsely ground dried grains packed with bits of dried vegetables and dried mushrooms. The Grakin™ was precooked and freeze dried. When briefly soaked and boiled in water, it became oatmeal-like in texture but with the robust flavors of the vegetables. Depending on the amount of water used, it could either be eaten with a spoon or sipped from a cup. Spavin added extra water; the travelers needed fluids even more than calories. He also hoped that the supply of Grakin™ that he carried was enough to last the family until they reached their destination…or at least the mountain, where he expected to find sustainable food sources. Silently, the four of them slurped the mixture from their plastic cups. The cups were specifically designed to withstand the rigors of rugged environments, virtually indestructible yet portably lightweight. Spavin had chosen the military grade cups and utensils, as well as their other travel rations and supplies, specifically because they would not set off metal detectors or other security devices. The last thing he wanted, or they needed, was to attract undue attention to themselves. Their uncertain destination could be worse than the place they had just left, but in different ways. He had tried to account for any eventuality when he packed for their journey. Their exodus was one of survival, but Spavin did not want to replace untenable dangers with worse dangers – the proverbial “jumping from the frying pan into the fire”.