Nikki Broadwell

Prologue

The world had gone dark. No grid. Nothing. She held the tiny glimmer within her cupped hands. She was the last keeper of the light.

Sandal’s hair was gray now and hung in tangles down her back. Her bronzed skin was lined, her hazel eyes not as clear as they once were. In her youth she’d played under the stars, the moon rising to cast shadows across the pearlescent landscape. Lanterns had glowed here and there with oil to keep them going. People had shared what they had, sitting around campfires talking and laughing. Children had played in the dirt. But even back then the power lines had lain in tangled heaps upon the ground, any wooden telephone poles long since burned up as firewood. It was the cold that troubled them most. The cold that required cutting down trees. The trees were too important for cleaning the polluted air and providing food to be used in this way. Dried dung was used instead, but there was only so much. The cattle, sheep and pigs had died out a long time ago. Chickens had flown the coops and been rounded up and eaten. No one thought to keep them to use for eggs.

Greed was the driving force for what happened. Money had taken the place of any decency or caring. But now oil had run out, corporations failing one by one. Rusted hulks of abandoned cars along roadways had all but disappeared under a heavy layer of slimy green. Cities lay derelict, with vines growing into the cracked and broken windows of high rises; monster storms and earthquakes had toppled many of them. Millions of people had died from starvation or one of the many diseases brought by unclean drinking water and pollution. Radiation sickness was a part of it. Tribal instincts had taken over, the smarter ones prevailing in a world gone mad.

Being smart was not what kept Sandal going. It was more devotional than anything else. The one thing she managed to hang onto from childhood had become the only thing that kept her going. She knew if anyone found out her secret she would be dead in a pool of her own blood, her ability to forge something new, gone forever. And so she stayed out of sight, searching for the answer to what her final mission might be. No one had told her how to do this. The future of the planet had literally been placed in her hands. What she cradled close to her body was magic. And magic didn’t exist.

1

Then

In the beginning there were dogs—lots of them. They ran free in the streets, they were taken away to guard those who needed to be guarded, and they were faithful companions to those who loved them. But once protein sources dried up and grocery stores had all been looted, most of them became food. Only a few remained. Although it took longer due to their elusive ability, cats suffered the same fate.

“Look up there!” Twelve-year-old Liam pointed toward the sky where streaks of silver skimmed downward. A moment later a sonic boom thundered, and a few seconds after that smoke and fire lifted into the musty air. A dog howled in the distance.

“What is it?” Sandal asked, her eyes wide.

Liam grabbed one of her braids, yanking painfully. “It’s what Mama’s been telling us about, silly. Missiles.”

“Missiles. But I thought there was no more fuel for missiles.”

“Someone has enough, just not us. War,” Liam chanted, “what is it good for—absolutely nothing.” He let out a bellow of laughter and took off.

When Liam ran, Sandal followed, wishing her legs were stronger and able to get to camp first. It was always Liam who got to tell.

“We saw it,” Betony answered, worry creasing her forehead. “With no electricity we have no news of what’s happening. You kids stay close, you hear?”

“What about picking fruit?”

Her mother ran nervous fingers through her tangled brown hair. “No further than the woods over there,” she said, pointing to the almond and peach trees that had turned brown from lack of irrigation. “Take Pookie with you. We’ll move on tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Their lives had become nomadic since the floods and the loss of electricity. The rivers and seas had risen as the ice caps melted, taking entire towns away, their house one of them. For Sandal and Liam it had been a lark at first, living in tents along with several other families who had kids. Their mother’s cheerfulness in the face of things had buoyed them. But many months had gone by, and what had begun as a lark had turned into hard work. Clean water, or even any water at all, was scarce and had to be purified. Iodine was hard to find. Three group members had died just this past week. Sandal’s father had officiated at the burial ceremonies, everyone pitching in to place the rocks that formed the burial cairns. It was a sad day.

None of this had happened quickly. When the seas rose it was blamed on the natural course of weather, not on the humans who were responsible for the rising temperature. Governments ignored the signs, choosing instead to drill for oil in places where earthquakes were prevalent. Aquifers had been diverted in the process, leaving entire communities without water. Environmental safety measures were rolled back in the scrabble for money. When the grid went down everything came to a halt. The entire world was faced with finding a solution. There wasn’t one. ‘If only’ had been a common refrain back then, one that had died on lips as the world went dark.

“Come pack up, Sandal!” her mother called. Sandal turned from the tiny worm she’d found crawling up from the earth. She placed it in the insect bag before hurrying to help with the dismantling of the tents and packing all the belongings into duffel bags. Her attention went to the globe sitting beside her sleeping bag, a spherical object that should have held fake snow and a little winter scene. She’d found it abandoned on the beach when they still lived in a house. When she placed it inside her backpack she made sure to surround it with clothes to keep it from breaking. It was the one thing she had to remind her of a life she missed every moment of every day.

Once her pack was ready she tethered the goats together, picking up a stick to drive them forward. “We should teach Pookie to herd,” she said, turning to her brother.

“He’s not a sheepdog--he’s a good-for-nothing mutt.”

She frowned at her brother. “Pookie’s a good dog and he loves us,” she said, reaching down to pat the black and white mongrel.

She glanced at Lars, their father, remembering the day they left the only home she’d known. The first floor was already flooded when she climbed the stairs, following him to the attic. He opened a chest and pulled out military fatigues she’d never seen. Two pistols lay beneath the clothes, along with several boxes of shells. He loaded everything into his large backpack. “Why do you need those?” she remembered asking him.

“Because this is war, Sandal. I fought in two of them and I know the signs when I see them.”

At the time Sandal had no idea what he was talking about. But once he was dressed in military garb and leading his family and their neighbors into the forest, she saw him differently. He’d become something more than her father.

Her mother’s reaction to this change had been a heavy sigh and a resigned expression. So much had happened since then.

*

As dusk fell, the city in the valley came into view, oil lanterns winking on and off enticingly. They’d been walking for over four hours. “Why can’t we go to the city, Mama?” Sandal whined. “They have light and food, running water, and…”

Betony shook her head. “They might have a few generators—but the gas will run out soon. Your father has already scouted. There are riots going on down there. The cities are filled with disease because of rats and trash. We’re better off finding our own way.” She glanced around at the group. “You must accept life as it is, Sandal. There’s no more school, no more sports, no more playing in the street. Our life has been set out for us now. We’ve reverted back to the hunter-gatherer lifestyle—you read all about that in school, didn’t you? If we can keep our wits about us we’ll survive this. Eventually life will return to normal.”

Sandal wanted to ask about the stripped carcasses of animals she’d seen, the lack of fruit and nuts and berries on the trees, and the scarcity of water, but she kept her mouth shut. The garden her mother had tended back when they lived in a house had been harvested before they left, the herbs dried and ground and placed in bags to bring along. Betony had planned ahead.

“Come along now, daughter,” her father called sternly. “We must find a good place to set up camp before it grows completely dark. And call that damn dog before he does something stupid.”

They set up the tents on a hillside next to a small wood. A stream ran by and they collected the water, filtering it as best they could. In the distance the city lay like a mirage that they could never reach. Sandal made sure Pookie didn’t run off after some scent, her father’s reprimand ringing in her ears.

The next morning they were off again, Lars in the lead. His camouflage made him difficult to see at times as he moved through the shadows of the forest.

Sandal ran to catch up. “Where are we going, Papa?”

His grim face turned towards hers. “There’s a thousand acres of wilderness up ahead with a clean water source. I’m hoping there’s still some game.” He glanced down at her. “Go help your mother now.”

Sandal hurried back to where her mother struggled with her pack. She looked tired. “Can I take one?”

“No, sweet one. This is too heavy for you. But if Liam wants to help I’d be grateful.”

They walked all day, stopping in early evening next to a wall of rock where a spring bubbled. As they set up the tents Lars sent Sandal and Liam off to search for bird nests. “It’s spring. There should be eggs in the nests. You know how to spot ‘em.”

“But if we eat them there won’t be birds.”

Lars frowned. “We need protein. The birds will lay more. Go now before it gets dark. And if you hear anything, run back as fast as you can.”

Both Liam and Sandal was expert at this, had been climbing trees since the beginning. They laughed as they searched, playing a game of hide and seek. Birds twittered in the treetops, settling down for the night. It was easy pickings. They carried the eggs back to camp in a plastic bag.

On the second day Lars killed a deer with his pistol. He was a very good shot, had been a marksman in the military. He and two other men skinned it and cut it up. It lasted for five days. On the sixth day Lars addressed the group. “We’ve had good luck here. Shall we stay another week or move on?”

The consensus was to stay. It was the wrong decision.