Out:Last

Short Stories from a Parallel Timeline

[outlasters]

Crowsnest Highway, outside Grand Forks. Summer.

The door to the dusty RV shudders as the group takes turns pulling at it. It's hardly inconspicuous, but good sleeping stops are hard to come by. The sun is just about ready to crest above the mountains, casting the sky in a pale yellow.

Stef shifts to one leg, using the top of her free foot to itch it. The thought of what might be crawling in the tall grass is enough to set her imagination into overdrive. It doesn't help that she's short on sleep, but the adults insisted on moving through the city through the night to avoid detection. A rough hand lands heavily on her shoulder, causing her to flail. She catches her balance, and raises her head to see Kevin's leathery, gap-toothed face looking down at her.

"Ready for some sleep, kid?" He asks in a hushed but jovial tone.

If her heart wasn't racing from that scare, she would be.

"Yeah, definitely."

"Good. You kids will go first. You've all deserve it. We've got to protect our future."

He pats her on the back before heading over to help set up the RV. Stef retreats back into her thoughts, muffling the cranky arguments of the little kids around her.

She's one of the few kids left that remember the old world, but it's fading for her too, now. Every unimportant memory is being overwritten by days of survival and covert travel under moonlight. Kevin tells them it's the only way to be free, but some days Stef lets her mind wander into a dangerous fantasy. There's something charming about setting down roots, claiming one building as your home and seeing it every day.

What she has isn't community, it's a sickly herd limping to its end. Accidents happen, others can't continue and are left behind. Some are arrested by the cities they pass through. On the hungrier days, Stef wishes she'd get arrested, too. Kevin says it's not real living, that the mayors and sheriffs tell you what to do and where to go. It's funny to hear it coming from the man who controls their everyday, not that she'd tell him.

He says the little kids and teens like Stef are their future, but she can't see why. What future lies ahead for them if they're always on the run? Where could they go to where riders and collectivists wouldn't find them? Kevin acts as though she's some magic key to a future without a struggle, but he never says how.

For now, all Stef can do is put one foot in front of the other, and take rest where she can find it. But later...

[edinburgh-by-the-sea]

farewell, summer

[outlasters]

Dunkley, BC. Autumn.

The leaves have just started turning in earnest this week, exchanging their shimmering green for brilliant yellows. Despite summer being a recent memory, the morning air is biting into Tarun's sweater. He tells himself that the sun with break through the clouds in the afternoon, but it's little consolation for now. He can't wear his coat just yet, not when there's work to be done that will no doubt dirty his sweater.

He and James have been travelling for days, all under the mayor of Quesnel's orders. There's lots to scrap in the dead towns just north of there, and the city must put itself first.

The wide, cracked highway under their horses hooves provides a little comfort knowing they'll see danger coming more than a few paces away. Above the gentle breeze in the pine and aspen, they can hear distant voices. There's movement just down the road, by a big, faded sign with a lowercase "d". As they approach it, the name "Dunkley" comes into view. No doubt whatever this place was, it's good scrapping.

Further down the overgrown dirt road are a group of riders facing a deputy. She waves a bright orange bandana and yells at Tarun and James to get on over. They don't know what they're getting into yet, but they have no choice. That's just what it takes to be part of a civilized society: unquestioned cooperation. Drifters like him and James don't get a say, only the community leaders of each town know what's best.

After the dust had settled and the world had grown quiet all those years ago, Tarun had imagined himself to be a community leader. After all, surviving outside of a city was hard, and the lasting populations had to stick together. However, once he saw the politics they swore they'd leave behind to create their new, civilized towns, he knew nothing had changed.

"No roaming off, community oath!" The deputy barks as one of the riders leans towards a rusted out truck at the side of the road. James flashes Tarun a weary smile. They'll get through a back breaking day of scavenging, and be off the next day with little more thanks than a couple kilograms of flour or a couple cans of old beans. Still, it's the price they pay to walk the thin line between being civilized, and free.