by Darcy Coates
Now that most traditional jobs were obsolete, many people had turned to a nomadic lifestyle. They travelled vast distances, collecting valuables from homes and abandoned businesses they passed, then traded them at any towns they stopped at. It was a lucrative way to live, if not entirely safe. There were still stories of hollows being spotted along remote roads, even though the thanites had been almost entirely eradicated.
Communication was still patchy. Every settlement had its own notice board erected somewhere prominent. New Climate’s was in the town square, not far from the shop. Memorials filled one side—flowers both real and fake, ribbons, pictures, and messages to lost loved ones. It was a kaleidoscope of colour. The other side was much more utilitarian, but no less precious: the names of people who had passed through the town, plus instructions for how to contact them. Those names, arranged alphabetically, were a way for separated families and friends to find each other. Hope was slow to die, and its flames were fanned by the stories of families being reunited against all odds.
The bell above the door jingled as the afternoon manager came to relieve them. Clare pushed the final bottles of oil onto the shelf as she heard Dorran call out, “Hey, Owen, how are you today?”
“Doing great, thanks,” the familiar voice replied.
Clare stood, grinning, and wiped her hands down on a tea towel as she approached the counter. “How are the girls?”
Owen’s close-cut bronze beard bristled as he smiled at her. He was starting to look healthier now that he was putting on weight again. A delicate necklace was barely visible under the collar of his shirt, but Clare knew what it carried: the gold wedding band. “They have a playdate with the neighbour’s children, so they’re happy. And you remember Elena, down the road? Her golden retriever just had puppies. I’m trying to calculate how many of my limbs I’d have to sell to get one for the girls.”
Clare laughed. “Well, tell Elena we’ll throw in fifty extra credits to sweeten the deal. That’s okay, right, Dorran?”
“Of course.” He nodded, seeming pleased.
“Oh, no, don’t.” Owen held up his hands, looking apologetic. “I swear, you don’t owe me anything. You can stop trying to help.”
Dorran closed the logbook as deep, warm chuckles rumbled through him. “You assisted my wife when she needed it most. The least I can do in return is help you get a puppy for your daughters.”
“Honestly—”
“No time for arguments.” Dorran took Clare’s hand as they moved towards the store’s exit. “We’re already gone. If you want to object to our blatant bias, you can lodge an official complaint with the council, which I will happily dismiss tonight.”
“Hah.” Owen shook his head as they left him to watch over the store. “All right. Have a good afternoon, you two.”
The afternoon was clear, and even though the sun was still dampened, they had more days with comfortable weather than not. Clare tilted her head back and basked in the sun as they meandered towards the town centre. “What’s on the cards for the rest of the day?”
“Hm. You and I have a council meeting tonight. I heard a visitor arrived who used to work for a hydroelectricity company before the stillness. He’s talking about taking a team to one of the larger rivers, to see whether it might be possible to put in a dam. It would be a large project. Something that could supply power to most of the town.”
Clare’s eyebrows rose. “That would be helpful.”
New Climate had a range of small-scale energy efforts, including two windmills, but they only generated a modest amount of energy and only on windy days. A more reliable source of power could create huge changes in the town. Homes already had the wiring to make use of it. Clare still occasionally flicked the switches out of habit when she entered a room. She had always hoped to see the day when the lights would respond, but it had felt like a lifetime away. Now, suddenly, it seemed much closer.
“We’re rebuilding,” she whispered. Around her, the town was filled with life. Familiar faces moved between houses, carrying home-baked breads and the first jars of preserve of the season as gifts for their neighbours. The countless mementos fluttered on the noticeboard behind them, a patchwork of faces that would never be forgotten. Their gains were small, baby steps in every way, but steps forward nonetheless.
“Yes.” Dorran kissed the top of her head. “I used to fear the future, but now… I look at it, and I see hope.”
Clare’s throat was tight. Smog still filled the sky, but the sun fought through it, stronger than it had been for a while. There were very few dull days, but every day seemed better than the last.
Her eyes landed on a figure standing on the cobblestone path leading into town. A constant flow of travellers moved through New Climate. Unfamiliar faces weren’t unusual, but something about this one caught Clare’s attention. The woman clutched a backpack in her arms. She was thin, frighteningly so, but her blue eyes were bright and alert. Scars formed a web across her skin, which she’d tried to cover up with a long skirt and scarf, despite the mild weather.
She was familiar and a stranger all at once. Gossamer-like hair floated around her head; it was still short, but slowly growing back. The blue eyes lit on Clare, and her lips parted.
“Beth,” Clare managed.
Her sister’s scar-mapped face twisted. She was trying to smile as tears filled her eyes. This was a new Beth entirely—not the over-cautious, micro-managing woman Clare had grown up with, and not the aggressive, ferocious presence from the bus. She looked apprehensive and made no move to come closer.
Clare’s heart was in her throat. She ran down the stone pathway, closing the distance between them, arms outstretched.
Beth pressed her eyes closed, fingers turning white as she gripped the backpack, as clearly rehearsed words fell out of her. “I want to apologise for what I did. I don’t expect forgiveness because I understand how—”
Clare collided with her, pulling Beth into a hug that left them both breathless. She pressed her cheek to Beth’s, gratitude thrumming through her. “You have no idea how badly I hoped you would find us.”
“I—I didn’t know if I should. After everything—” Beth swallowed and carefully extracted herself from Clare’s arms, even though she seemed reluctant to. “I’ve known where you were for a while. But wasn’t sure I would be welcomed.”
“Of course you are.” Dorran’s warm voice came from just behind Clare. He was beaming. “I hope you like casserole, because that’s what I’m making for dinner tonight.”
Beth’s shaky smile cracked further. “I’m sorry. Oh, I am so, so incredibly sorry—”
“The world ended once, when the stillness changed everything.” Dorran placed one hand on the small of Clare’s back, his dark hair flicking in the wind. “I feel as though it ended again on the day the cure was deployed. It’s a new world now, with new rules, new communities, and new lives. I believe that justifies a fresh start for all of us.”
“I’d like that.” Beth dropped her backpack. Her arms reached out, and Clare pulled both her and Dorran into a hug. “I’d like that a lot.”
Their arms felt good around her shoulders. Beth was crying and laughing at once. Clare could feel Dorran’s happiness, a thick, tangible sense radiating out of him. She couldn’t stop smiling. And she couldn’t stop thinking of what Dorran had said earlier, a seed of truth that had taken root inside of her.
I look at the future, and I see hope.
The End
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