The Well 3
R. E. Rice
Copyright © 2014 by R.E. Rice
Smashwords Edition
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. No reproduction of this book part or whole is permitted. This book should not be scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the author’s permission.
Books by R.E. Rice
The Well
The Well 2
Read the first book in the series to obtain the full experience of the story.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”
--Shakespeare
1
We walked all night into the dark, headed east. No compass, no stars, no direction of where our lives would take us. The light finally filtered through the gray sky. I turned to see if Shaun was still with me. Through the fog of dust, I made out a figure. He lumbered along, clothes covered in the pale beige dust and sand. His face hidden under a bandana of red and black colors. He found it in the dust wrapped around the bleached skull of a fellow traveler. It was Shaun no mistaken that walk. One lazy foot lagging behind the other.
I stood still. I wanted to go on but for some reason my feet wouldn’t move. I glared down at them, and they appeared connected to something or someone else, as if they were attached to a mannequin—lifeless. Shaun came along side and glared at me with a curious glance. He tilted his head.
“What is it?” I questioned.
“You look…” he paused. “ You look sick.”
“Ah, what do you know?” I said to him.
“I know what I see. You can’t see yourself. When was the last time you looked in a mirror?” He took my hand and passed it over my brow, where wrinkles had taken hold and claimed the first of my aging. My red eyes filled with crust, my nose swollen and lodged with bits of sand, my mouth and lips dry and cracked like the dirt underneath our boots. I passed my tongue over my blistered lips, and placed my fingers over my face—leather. Hard and dry and lines at the corner of my eyes, and lips cracked like a dead leaf that could blow away during the first signs of winter.
It wasn’t me. My hands fanned over my face. I felt the face of my father.
“Your red eyes are protruding. Your skin is pale. Why are you standing there looking at me, why aren’t you walking?” Shaun said. He wanted me to answer him.
I opened my mouth. It took a few moments before I could form the words. “I was waiting for you,” I said not sure of what I had said.
“Try moving your feet,” he said to me. A test.
Looking down I willed my feet to respond but they wouldn’t budge.
“Now try again,” he said. Nothing happened.
“Then sit,” Shaun commanded.
“I can’t sit. If I sit, I don’t think I’ll get up,” I said with a panic voice. I paused to get hold of my emotions trying not to show Shaun how vulnerable I had become. But I wasn’t fooling him. He knew me too well.
“You have to sit down,” Shaun said holding my shoulders, his arms lodge under my arm pits as I tried to sit on the crude rutted black top road. “How much farther do we have to go to reach water or to our death?” He said quietly to me. He had a smile on his face. I wondered whether he was smiling because he had finally accepted the inevitable—that we were going to die here, and it was too hard trying to fight death.
“I see something,” he said with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“What?”
“Something shining in a distance,” Shaun said, and he stood gazing out, his eyes fixed and mesmerized by the sight. He tilted his head focusing his attention away from me and on an object in a distance. “Where is that map,” he said.
“Why?” I asked abruptly.
“Because I need it. You’re in no position to go anywhere and I have to search for the well.” I dropped the backpack to the left of me to rid myself of my burden. Reaching under my arms, Shaun drug me to the side of the road, where I rested my back on the stump of an old tree that had turned to stone. Carefully, reluctantly, I reached in my pocket and handed him the map. He glanced at it a few seconds and started walking. He turned around and said, “I’ll be back soon.” Then he disappeared down the hill.
I had already broken all my father’s rules. I began to question Shaun’s loyalty. Loyalty had nothing to do with survival. Survival was a different animal. Hunger and lack of water would make people unrecognizable as human beings. I realized that when I saw that family eat my sister as if they were sitting down for a Sunday dinner. Somehow he had managed to stay strong when my body began to break down.
Was he hiding food? Or was my mind so plagued by doubt and my body fighting my existence that I couldn’t reason anymore.
My head fell forward and my body shut down.
When I woke I estimated that a day had passed and I was still lying in the road and Shaun was nowhere in sight. Why had he done this? Then I began to think of how he tried to convince me that we had to leave Sarah.
If I could get up I would be alright. Maybe I could walk to the town. I had dropped my backpack a few feet away from where I sat. I tried reaching for it. It was too much of an effort. My hands slumped by my side. I had to try again. I needed to rummage around for something to eat, anything that could provide energy. I remembered I had a candy somewhere.
Slowly and with feeble arms and hands, I stretched them in the direction of the backpack. At first it was painful and then I felt no pain. I became frightened. Had I lost feelings in my hands? That would be a sign that I was dying. “No,” I said. If I was dying, I wouldn’t be able to move my hands. Yet my legs were rooted.
I tried flexing my stiff hands, flexing my fingers a little. I didn’t want to over tax them. I straightened my back and all appeared to be fine but when I tried my legs they weren’t responding. I began to rub them to get the circulation going.
When nothing happened, I rolled over and lay on my stomach and pulled myself forward. Maybe if I could reach my backpack, I may have some water, if Shaun didn’t take it. It took me about fifteen minutes of pulling my dead legs behind me to reach the backpack.
Desperation set in the minute my hands touched the backpack. My shaky hands pulled at it opening it. I shook and emptied the contents on the highway. Rummaging through the litter of empty plastic bottles, scraps of candy paper, and bits of something that looked like it could be edible, I placed it into my mouth and sucked the sweetness from the paper. There were drops of water in each bottle. I opened the top, threw my head back, and let the water drop on my tongue. It felt glorious, it felt as if I could live another day. Then a thought came to mind.
I pushed the remnants of paper back and found a bean. I could eat it and that would be that or I could place it in the bottle and maybe create a water cycle. Desperation had set in and I was teetering off a cliff and grasping at a straw. In my desperation, I discovered a piece of candy. I knew if I ate the candy, I would be thirsty later, but what did I have to lose. I had lost all of my family. Loss my ability to move. The only thing for me now was to lie here and pray that Shaun would come bac
k for me, or death would come quick and easy. Who am I fooling? I thought. Death is painless but dying is hard.
Placing the dried bean in the bottle, I screwed the top on tight. The heat in the atmosphere would generate something I told myself. Under the paper I laid my hand on a small can of some kind of meat, I didn’t know because it had no label. Where was the opener?
When the company that manufactured Spam went out of business, another company opened up, and they began to manufacture a colorless, and odorless substitute. No one knew what it was and no one cared. People were just happy that they had something to lessen their hunger.
My mother refused to eat it and kept it on the shelf in our pantry because my father wouldn’t let her throw it away. “You can’t discard anything we can eat that might save our lives,” he would say.
My mother’s response was, “We could be eating people for all we know. I won’t eat it.”
I saved it for times like this. Then I remembered, I had dropped the can opener in the dust when I saw what I thought was Sarah and from the trauma of realizing what had happened to her. In the haste of leaving, I had forgotten to pick it up. I was more concerned about living another day than a can opener. Now that can opener stood between me and death.
I grabbed the can and hit it on the road. Clang, clang, clang, but I was too weak and couldn’t make a dent. So I pulled myself back to the large petrified tree stump and hit the can on the side of the tree’s sharpest edge. Still nothing gave.
Looking around, across the sand to see if there was anything to open it with, it was then I spied a movement in the dust. Whatever it was, it was huge—its swirling motion, and the large mound of dirt it generated. It slithered side to side, its movements slow and then it cut across the dirt. What was it I asked myself? Then it came to me, it must be some kind of animal. But I hadn’t seen anything that moved under dirt that was as large and quick as that. It had to be about four or five feet in length maybe longer.
I didn’t have the strength to get away from it. It was coming straight for me. I tried to rise to my feet, using my hands to lift me, but my knees buckled and again I tumbled to the ground. I watched as it came near. Unable to move and get out of its way, I felt like an invalid. I was an invalid. What was happening to me? My feet didn’t move. “Am I dying?”
Then I lowered my head to see something crawl from under the dirt on to the black top. It looked like a giant snake in camouflage. It was the color of the dirt. All beige and then it coiled around in a circle as if it was a spring. Had it seen me? I lay still. I didn’t make a move. I couldn’t make a move. If it came closer, there was no way I could get out of its way.
The snake made itself comfortable next to me in the middle of the highway. I looked at it but I was mindful not to turn my eyes too quickly. Then it moved again. It came closer and closer. Now I could see that it was seven feet. If I could get my hands working and get something to kill it with, maybe I could eat it. That large snake appeared hungry. Because of its size, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was its next meal.
It had a huge flat head. And its scales were in a diamond pattern. Its head resembled a lizard but its body was that of a snake. I wondered what was taking Shaun so long. If he comes back soon, maybe he could kill it. But if he stays any longer then I’m in serious trouble.
My eyes turned slowly facing the snake. It was directly in front of me and with his cumbersome movement, he stopped in front of my boots, and began rubbing his head on them. And then his skin moved and the more he rubbed the boots, more came off. It was an endless wait. I waited for him to bite me, I waited for him to go across the road, and still he sat with his head resting on my boot. Then he began to move. It stretched and started his ritual of rubbing on my boots again, and each movement of his body sent chills through me.
He was casting off his dead skin. In my father’s farm magazines, sloughing is the scientific term.
I knew I was getting better when I could feel my legs coming back to life. All I needed was a little rest. But now I was in jeopardy of losing my life. I had to do something and fast. Then the snake stretched across my legs and his skin loosened and began rolling off of his body. His head lay near my hand and I dare not move. The snake inched up further on to the road, and a little further until it had cleared my legs. Part of its skin, which was still attached to it had rested on my boots.
An hour had passed and the snake was inching away from me dragging the remnants of his skin behind him. I took a large breath and closed my eyes in prayer. I didn’t know how much I wanted to live until I saw that I could die any moment.
My body began to move and I felt the life flowing into my legs and hands. I tried feebly to exercise my fingers. I didn’t want to distract the snake and have it turn around and bite me. The snake’s movements were faster now but it was still changing its skin which slowed its motion. I looked down at my feet. I began to wiggle my toes inside of my boots. There was movement. Slow, nervous, heart in my throat, I reached for my shoe. Ever so slow. I had to move in a way that the snake would not know that it had passed over something that was potential food. It took hours to get my boot.
The snake in striking distance appeared tired, but with his eyes perpetually opened, I couldn’t tell if it was asleep. There was one way to find out and it was to look for the line in the middle of its eye. I had no interest in knowing.
2
Hours marched on. I watched the snake slither over my legs, make itself comfortable near my head, and fall asleep. Afraid at times he sensed my movements but didn’t react. Maybe it was unsure of what I was and didn’t want to expend anymore energy. It must have been a tiresome job to rid itself of skin because he lay there like a boulder. Not even a gust of strong blinding wind and sand would cause it to move from that spot. I rolled my body ever so slowly away from it, but I knew because of its size, and because my body was in no shape to fend off an attack from its enormous body, I had to act. I used the blowing wind and dust to disguise my movements.
Because I couldn’t move quickly to cover my face, I thought I would either choke to death from the dust, or the snake would initiate an attack with his lethal bite. I had but given in to the later and the inevitable. But I heard my father’s voice and I saw my mother’s face as she sacrificed her life so that I could live another day. I concluded, as long as I had tomorrow I could fight for another day of life. I wouldn’t die this day. It was either me or the snake and the snake was in serious trouble.
I harnessed all my strength to make sure I wouldn’t go quietly into the night.
After many hours of sitting in one position, just in reach of my boots, it was now me or it. If I made the wrong move it would be me lying in the middle of the road waiting for whatever was living to enjoy my body such as it is. Just a few more movements and I will have my boot in my hand, I thought. But if my legs give out, then it will be my last effort to remain alive.
Ah, I thought with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment, I can do this. I slipped the boot off my foot and over my hand and with the quickness of an antelope, I jumped to my feet, darted over to the sleeping snake and pound his head. Again and again! Because of the thick scales protecting his head, the animal lifted his head, open his mouth, and tried to wrap its body around me but the energy it took to dislodge his skin had rendered it incapable of moving.
I pound and pound until the life drained from it. I didn’t even know where my strength came from, but it must have been the nature of survival that kept me alive.
With all the energy of a desperate man, I kept pounding, pounding, until I lost my footing and slumped beside the dead snake. I stood panting, trying to breathe. I was already weak and the fight had weakened me more.
I have to eat something. I reached for my bag and pulled out a knife and began slicing the snake into pieces. His new skin was soft and hadn’t developed. I ate it raw after cutting out its poison sac. Somehow when you’re hungry you lose the sense of smell and taste. Cooking, smelling, and tasting
food was the luxury of another time. I ate and ate until I was full. I reached for my backpack and pulled out a large jar of salt. After water disappeared in the Pacific Ocean, it was reported by the passerby’s that salt existed in abundance. Because we had none, my father began trading water for salt. He must have known we would need it someday.
I would pack the meat in salt to preserve it. It could keep in the salt for months maybe years. I didn’t know what kind of snake it was, but delicious isn’t a fit description. I made a small fire to ward away any other sand snakes.
Propping my back against the stump thinking that when I wake Shaun would be standing over me, I calmed myself, my eyes shut, and my mind shut.
When I woke, I felt better. Worrying about the future if there would be one for me, and trying to stay alive had drained me of my energy. Now I gained some of it back because of sleep. But still Shaun wasn’t here. I checked my body. I stood and exercised my legs and arms. I felt better than I had felt in a long time.
Knowing the snake had to come from somewhere, I ambled a few feet in that direction where I first saw it. The well had to be somewhere near. My eyes focused on the route Shaun took going east. But why had Shaun not returned? I packed everything I needed and stuffed as much meat as I could carry into the backpack.
I was stumbling along but I was alive. The thought of living for one more day kept me walking in the direction of a Gulf Gas sign. With the snake meat we could make it another month. I was so excited. I had to catch up to Shaun and tell him everything was ok. It was ok that he didn’t come back for me. I understand. I missed him, and I wanted to show him what I had.
The thought of finding the well quickened my pace. I was walking but I felt one foot dragging. I didn’t think about it too much because I was happy to be on my feet. I know in times like these that if I didn’t stay on my feet, no one could carry me, and I would be dead very soon.
Well 3 Page 1