When It Rains

by Joel Shaw

  It was a mind-numbing undertaking. The road surface was in terrible condition, forcing her to zig then zag endlessly to avoid pits and splits in the road’s surface, kicking large stones from their path, fighting the dry, squealing wheel bearings every step of the way. Occasionally a light utility vehicle would roar by with windows blacked out, flotation tires howling, maintaining a high rate of speed, literally skipping over the top of the rugged road bed. Amber waved frantically without luck.

  A day and a half passed before reaching the dehydration center, a vacant Goodyear Tire Plant two miles west of Tyler,TX. Circling overhead the two Turkey Vultures that accompanied them for twenty two miles departed, denied a meal.

  The entrance to the Trinity Dehydration Center was on the east side of the fenced compound. As the pair approached the gate they were surrounded by beggars, hawkers, pickpockets and con artists, all wanting something to sell, barter, trade, pawn, steal. She clutched the purse containing her mother's identification and ration cards to her chest and forced her way through the crowd using the cart as a battering ram. She felt the hands of strangers feeling her every contour and crevice. Some just for the pleasure, some searching for water and ID cards or any items of value that could be sold or traded. She plowed past the guard shack without incident continuing across the gravel parking lot following signs that directed them toward the main entrance. She stopped to catch her breath before checking her mother’s pulse; it fluttered. The noise and the crowd was stressful.

  She placed her water tube in Jade's mouth and urged her to consume the last quarter cup of water from the HydroPack.

  Jade didn’t understand or care. She had given up completely. The trip had made her too weak, the tube fell from her mouth and swung back to rest on Amber’s shirt, a small amount of water dripped from the tube onto her thread-bare cotton T-shirt. Amber quickly gathered the saturated area with her hand and clamped the moist fabric between her dry lips. She mopped her mother’s face with her hand and pushed the cart through the entrance.

  The swinging doors opened into a cavernous, dimly lit space congested with narrow chairs arranged side by side from one end to the other. Hundreds, no, thousands of chairs. Corridors divided the rows of chairs into sections over which hung signs labeling each area. Area 1, Area 2, Area 3, and so on, extending to the far end of the cavern. In the center of the far wall were two large swinging doors. A large sign above the doors was legible even from a distance: DeHydration Module - Authorized Personelle Only

  Intimate groups huddled around their dying loved ones. It was clear that this was not an extended care facility as some rumors had it. Not a nursing home, not a treatment facility or triage center. As the Dallas Morning News put it, "Trinity DeHydration Center is were defeated people go to die an inglorious death."

  Dozens of similar centers where built around the country and subsidized by the government. ‘Recycling’ human bodies was big business backed up by a secret executive mandate: Free more water resources by reducing local populations. A rating system was developed based on one’s occupation. The lower the rating, the sooner one’s Water Ration Card would be terminated. WRCs would be deactivated without warning, leaving the to die in the desert, so to speak. Recovered Water Ration Cards were traded on the World Resource Exchange.

  Inside the facility, a constant parade of Trinity technicians, wearing lime green jumpsuits, slowly pushed gurneys along the rows of pale, quivering humans, quickly removing from the queue those who died.

  Amber stared straight ahead. She did’t care to watch the spectacle. She studied bulleted placards attached to the walls identifing “Symptoms of Severe Dehydration:

  •Muscle spasms

  •Vomiting

  •Racing pulse

  •Shriveled skin

  •Dim vision

  •Painful urination

  •Confusion

  •Difficulty breathing

  •Seizures

  •Chest and Abdominal pain

  •Unconsciousness

  When the body reaches 10% fluid loss emergency help is needed IMMEDIATELY!

  10% fluid loss and above is often fatal!

  It was obvious to Amber, as she wheeled her mother to the nearest available chair that most of the people in the cavern had reached the critical level.

  Jade slowly turned her head and attempted to say something but she was too weak.

  “Keep quiet, mother,” Amber insisted. She held her mother’s wrist, feeling the failing pulse. She began to sob.

  Jade touched Amber’s arm, motioning her to come closer. “I have something to tell you, child,” she rasped. She paused, took a wretched, shallow breath, then continued in a whisper.

  Amber squatted beside her mother’s wheelchair and listened intently about a child she had given birth to before she had met Amber’s father, Ethan. Jade’s left eye emitted a precious tear as she told of a secret love. Her first love; Harold Cooke.

  “You have a brother. Find him child, he is the only family you have left.”

  “I still have you momma,” Amber said, looking into her mother’s eyes, now clouded with the veil of death.

  “Momma, oh no momma, don’t leave me.” Amber crumbled to her knees on the concrete floor, crying softly. She caught her tears on her fingers and licked them one by one.

  Amber passed.

  “Goodbye momma. I love you.”

  She bowed her head. Uncertain and apprehensive about her next move.

  “They’re coming.” It sounded like a warning. A waif of a man had approached from behind. The man was pointing toward the double doors. Amber looked, two men dressed in green were fast approaching with a gurney.

  “Take her Water Ration Card...quick...,” The stranger hissed.

  Amber didn’t hesitate. She quickly searched her mother’s body. She found the two inch by three inch Water Ration card in a small pocket sewn into the hem of her dress. She tore at the threads and managed to palm the card just as the technicians arrived, engrossed in conversation...

  “...the old man was out of work, our neighbor gave us as many green beans as we could pick. All we ate was green beans. I got so tired of eatin’ green beans...

  The skinny tech was doing all the talking. He was about six foot six, thinner than most, with large green eyes that bulged from their sockets like over-inflated balloons. He had an unkempt red mohawk haircut that fluttered as he walked. His green jumpsuit hung straight from wire thin shoulders to white rubber boots.

  “Shut up Duane,” the shorter tech said. “You talk to damn much.”

  Duane raised his left hand to his mouth and spoke into the small microphone attached to his sleeve.

  “Darlin, gimme some suction and a pint of solvent in section 163-A.” He paused for a response and said,”thank you darlin’.” Moments later he reached overhead to grab a flexible hose lowered by a robotic arm.

  The short technician scooped Jade’s body from the chair with a well practiced maneuver and stretched her body on the gurney. He covered her with a large sheet of green paper pulled from roll beneath the gurney. Duane was ready with the three inch hose. He pressed a trigger at the end of the flared nozzle releasing a spray of disinfectant that saturated the area were Jade and Amber had spent their last moments. He twisted the nozzle and sucked the fluid from the area. He gave the nozzle another turn and a jet of hot air dried the spot in an instant.

  The short tech turned to Amber and in a matter of fact tone, said, “That’s it Mam, sorry for your loss.I will need your mother’s full name, ID number and her WC card. You can pick up her clothes at window D in about twenty minutes.”

  “Her name is Jade Bowles. Her ID number is NA1489TX. I took her wedding ring and a bracelet, that’s all she had. She lost her WRC card three months ago,” Amber lied in a calm monotone while staring straight into man’s eyes.

  His tone changed suddenly. He had abandoned his Texas drawl, pronouncing his words crisply. “We hear that a lot Mam. You know it i
s illegal to possess another individual’s WRC card?”

  “I...” Amber began to speak but was interrupted.

  “We have the authority to search you if we think you are withholding her card,” he said, taking one step in Amber’s direction.

  “Cmon’ Billy Bob leave the little lady alone.” Duane was giving Amber the once over. She was fine; about five foot seven, black hair pulled back in a pony tail, walnut brown eyes, good teeth, and perky nipples accentuating her dirty yellow T shirt. He placed his hand over his crotch and leered at her.

  Billy Bob ignored Duane and inched closer to Amber. She could smell him. He stank.

  “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t have her ration card,” he said, gesturing to the paper-covered gurney.

  “I told you. She lost her card months ago,” Amber insisted.

  “I can tell when people lie to me.” Billy Bob stood still and erect. Amber took a step in his direction. They were about the same height, their noses separated by two inches of humid air.

  Amber glared at the man through her dark brown irises, unblinking and stoic.

  “I do not have my mother’s WRC card.”

  Billy Bob retreated a step, unsettled.

  “All right Mamm, I believe you,” he said. “Let’s get goin’ Duane, I see another one about to drop in Area 7.”

  They departed while Duane continued with his story... “anyway, I told my moms I wasn’t goin’ to the cellar for another jar of green beans unless I could bring me up a jar of peaches.” Duane laughed. Billy Bob rolled his eyes.

  “Hey, Billy Bob, did I tell you about that ol’ buck what jumped into...”

  “Shut up Duane,” said Billy Bob. Duane didn’t.

  The pair scurried away with Jade’s body toward the swinging doors. They emerged seconds later with an empty gurney.

  Amber walked outside then sat in the shade of a nearby building. She knew she was close to dehydration and needed to find a Federal Water Dispenser. She put her head between her knees and sobbed. Grief and anxiety washed over her in waves. This was the first time in her life that she had been alone. She remembered her mother’s last words. She had a brother...she had to find him.

  CHAPTER 12 Jordan The Outfitter-May 2-2060

  Amber was relieved to have outwitted the technicians. She knew she wouldn’t be able to use her mother’s WRC card; not without stirring up some trouble but she would be able to trade it or sell it.

  She stood and stretched, crinkling her nose, her body odor repulsed her.

  “ Ohh,” she waved her hands in front of her, dispersing the foul aroma.

  “Smells good to me honey.” Amber spun around just in time to slap away the outstretched hands of Duane. “Easy darlin’ I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to do some trading.”

  “What makes you think I want to do some trading with you?” Amber took a couple of steps back. Her instincts tingled. What was this ugly bastard up to?

  Duane sneered, displaying a gap in his front teeth that caused a soft whistling as he spoke.

  “I ain’t thinkin’ what you think I’m thinkin’, I don’t want no trouble. Now, I know you have your mom’s Water Ration Card. I saw you palm it when me and Billy was comin’ up on you. So, even though you got that card, it ain’t no good to you unless you know someone who can hack it. Do you know any hackers young lady?”

  Amber remained silent. She backed up a little more putting her weight on her rearward foot, left hand behind her back touching the hilt of the six-inch fillet knife tucked in the sheath at the small or her back. She wasn’t going to let him take anything from her without a fight.

  “No? I didn’t think so.” Duane was sneering again.

  “What’s your point?” Amber asked, closing her hand around the hilt of the knife.

  “I can help you. Where you are going. You got any family left?”

  The mention of family caused her to loose focus and relax. “I guess so, momma told me just before she died that I have a half-brother up north.”

  “Where up north?” Duane's pulse quickened. This could prove to be a real good day.

  “Minnesota.” Amber said, relaxing her grip on the knife. “Do you know anything about Minnesota?”

  “I know it’s called the land of ten thousand lakes. I seen pictures.”

  “Are the lakes dried up like they are around here?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Duane said. “ I heard that the drought ain’t quite as bad up there.”

  “I’d like to see a real lake,” Amber said. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to imagine.

  “You got a brother in Minnesota. You gonna try to find him?”

  “ I guess so. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “It’s gonna be a tough road for you little lady. I have an idea, follow me. I have something to show you. It might make your life a little easier. Hey, what’s your name, honey...mine is Duane.”

  “Amber.”

  “Follow me Amber. This could be your lucky day. Not that your moms dying was lucky or anything...I mean...well, just follow me...it ain’t far.” Duane started walking and talking, hoping Amber would follow. She did.

  They walked to the far end of the facility and stopped before a metal shed behind two roaring cooling towers, attached to the power plant.

  Amber covered her ears while Duane pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the padlocked door. “I love old technology,” he yelled, pushing the four foot wide door open, beckoning Amber to walk in. “After you,” he yelled.

  Amber hesitated. If this was a trap, she didn't want to be blindsided. She shook her head smiling slightly. "You first," she yelled over the deafening roar.

  Duane nodded his head knowingly, grinned and walked into the blackness. He touched a nearby light switch. A glow from the arched ceiling illuminated the interior. Amber gasped in awe. She had never seen anything like it. Speechless, she stepped into the hut allowing Duane to close the door behind her. He locked it with a heavy sliding bolt. He noticed Amber’s concerned look.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t want no uninvited guests.” He winked. “Whaddaya think about my collection, Amber? I got everything you need for that little ol’ road trip of yours.”

  Amber inspected the rows of heavy steel shelving. Every shelf she could see held neatly labeled bins and dated. They were alphabetized. She was impressed. She chose a random row and began reading the labels.

  “Dacron, Daggers, Dale Earnhardt, Dance Music, Darning Needles, Detonators, Dishes, Doorbells, Doorknobs, Dolls...What’s a Dale Earnhardt?”

  Duane laughed loud and hard causing. It was a peculiar laugh but it caused Amber to smile for the first time in a very long time.

  “Dale Earnhardt was the best damn stock car driver there ever was, darlin.”

  “What is a stock car driver.”

  “Racing, girl. Don’t you know what racing is? When was you born?”

  Amber thought for a moment. She hadn’t answered that question in a very long time.

  “Sometime in 2030 I think.”

  “That explains it. Racing was outlawed in twenty twenty-five after gasoline got scarce. That was a bad day for America. Let me see. How to explain racing...”

  Duane seemed lost in thought for a moment, then smiled.

  “Hang on it’ll be easier to show you than to tell you.”

  He pushed a wheeled stairway to the D isle, ascended a couple of steps and removed the Dale Earnhardt bin from the shelf.

  “Honey, you just can’t go through life without knowing what stock car racing is. That wouldn’t be right.”

  He placed the bin on a table in front of Amber and opened it. He pulled a VHS documentary featuring Dale Earnhardt out of its cardboard sleeve.

  “These here are called video cassettes. Come over here. This here thingamajig is called a video cassette player. Ever seen one of these?”

  Amber shook her head no.

  “This contraption next to it is a cathode r
ay television. Your great great grandparents probably had one of these.”

  Amber shrugged while she watched the video cassette player swallow the video cassette.

  Duane grinned. “Now, you watch this video while I gather some things that I think you’ll be able to use on your little trip. I’ll spread em’ out on that table over there and when you have a good idea of who Dale Earnhardt is, and what stock car racing is about, come on over and we’ll do a little horse tradin'. OK?”

  “What makes you think I have a horse to trade?”

  Duane laughed, shaking his head.“I ain’t got no horse either. You just watch the video, I’ll be back shortly.”

  Amber sat down as the television warmed. Soon a brilliant glow appeared on the screen followed by images of cars driving around an oval track. Amber moved closer to the screen. She was mesmerized by this old technology more so than the subject matter.

  “How much do you weigh?” Duane called from the ladder.

  “I don’t know.”

  Duane studied her for a few seconds. “I’m guessing you weigh in around one hundred pounds give or take.”

  “Whatever you say,” Amber was engrossed studying the images on the TV.

  “What size shoe do you wear?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “OK. I bring a few pair for you to try...ever fired a pistol?”

  “What? No.”

  “Know how to use a knife?”

  “Yes.”

  "Ever killed anyone?"

  “What? Why?...no.”

  “Gonna travel after dark?”

  “Yes. I mean I guess so.”

  “Got a water purifier?”

  “No.”

  “Hou about, you want some seeds?"

  What? What kind of seeds?

  "Vegetable."

  "Why would I want vegetable seeds?”

  "Seeds are good for trading; they're light and easy to carry. Take some; you never know when they may come in handy."

  "OK. Give me some vegetable seeds," she laughed. The mere idea of a garden was amusing. She doubted she would ever have the time or place, not to mention the water.

  "I'll give you some peas, green beans, soy beans, carrots, onions, squash, beets...hell, I'll just make up a variety pack for you. So, what do you think about ol’ Dale?”