Ethereal

Stowaway

My eyes shot open just as the truck hit a nasty bump, throwing me and several of the lighter crates several inches into the air. I landed on my ribs, causing a hiss to escape through my lips. Pain erupted across my side as I bit my tongue to hold back a whimper, trying to rub the tenderness out of my side as I sat up and looked around. The back of the truck was pitch black. Not even a sliver of light peeked from beneath the crack of the back door.

A chill crept over my skin, and if I could see anything, I’m sure my breath would be a cloud of fog around me. The sun must have set while I had been sleeping.

The desire to roam around the truck and peer into the sealed crates swept over me. Seeing the officials handing out emergency supplies filled me with the hope that I could find an extra blanket or a flashlight I could use. Only with my luck I knew that I’d most likely trip and hit my head on the corner of something sharp, and I’d have to deal with a head wound on top of everything else going on. Even with the bitter chill threatening to make my teeth chatter, I would have to wait until morning to investigate my surroundings.

Suddenly remembering that I still had my bag, I groped around in the dark until my fingers brushed against one of the metal clasps. Pulling the bag onto my lap, I rifled through its contents until I felt the rough fabric of the woolen blanket. I pulled it to the surface, ignoring the crash of my other possessions as they all fell against each other at the bottom of my bag.

I smiled as I unfolded the wool blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders before settling back onto the ground. My body and mind were spent, the physical and emotional havoc of the past twenty-four hours had been one of the worst experiences I’d ever encountered. For whatever reason, my brain was slow to process everything that had happened. Maybe it was the fatigue, after spending most of the day running in the heat. Or maybe I was in denial of everything that had happened and my mind opted to ignore the reality of my situation to spare me the trauma. Whatever the reason may be, my body and mind were still.

I thought of the possibility of finding my family again. They were all that I had left in this world, and I had no idea if they were still alive. What happens if I find out they’re not in the Camp as I was led to believe? Where would I go then? I tried my best not to think too hard about it.

With the blanket keeping me warm and despite my muscles aching fiercely, my fatigue lulled me into a deep sleep, with my head resting against my bag on the floor.

My dreams themselves gave me no rest. Old memories that I had repressed during my stay at the orphanage were slowly beginning to surface once again. The blistering heat of summer peeling the skin off my face and back, my blistered fingers trying to rub the dirt out from under my nails, the Head Matron’s shadow lurking over every corner waiting to deal out punishments.

All thoughts and dreams shifted to images of the burning orphanage and the smiling man staring as everyone inside slowly turned to ash. I could feel my mind turning into tinder as the memories began to burn me from the inside out. My throat was singed, and my tongue tasted of ash.

My family’s screams mixed with the screams of the girls at the orphanage, blurring into one deafening roar as the groaning of the truck’s metal gears and wheels sounded like the orphanage’s walls tumbling to the ground. Even the hard floor under me would bend and creak at times, setting my nerves on edge as my mind whispered to me that there was someone else in the truck bed with me, someone slinking amongst the shadows, watching me, waiting to strike me down and kill me.

I was relieved when a bright ray of sunlight poured through the open cracks of the truck’s back door, telling me I had made it through the night, and I could finally move from my spot against the wall.

Twisting my back, I groaned as my spine popped and shifted, the muscles sore from laying on the metal bed for so long. I stretched as best as I could, touching my toes and pulling my arms over my head to try and get the deep ache out of my bones. What I really needed was a hot bath and some of Matron Turmeric’s peppermint salve; the stuff burned when you applied it to your skin. During long days working in the fields and feeling nothing besides your muscles growing tighter with every movement, it offered a slight relief to the persistent pains of field labor.

I inspected my burned hand, feeling relieved when I saw the redness had receded a tad bit. The blisters, however, had grown. While they didn’t hurt while I had been sleeping, they would ache every time I tried to move my hand. So basically, all the damn time.

As I finished stretching, I made a mental note in my head to find something sterile to pop the blisters with later.

With my muscles a tad bit looser and my bones not as achy, I pulled out the package of jerky and berries from my bag before packing my wool blanket back into it. The saltiness of the jerky only dried out my mouth, and even the sweet juices of the berries weren’t enough to quench my thirst. I had finished off the bottle of water the official had given me long ago, and the headache that was still lingering on the edges of my temple was beginning to return.

I looked around the large metal cage I was in. Surely there had to be more water in here somewhere?

Standing back up, I inspected the lid to the crate closest to me. The only thing keeping it closed was a metal latch, the kind my dad had put on our shed door to keep out curious rabbits and conniving foxes. I only needed to turn the metal latch and the bar could flip upwards.

I sent a silent prayer thanking whoever decided to use these latches instead of some heavy-duty locks or bolting the lids down. The latch clinked lightly as I flipped it open, lifting the wooden lid so it stood on its hinge.

The crate was filled with more gray bundles. All packed tightly together. Hadn’t the Citadel official told everyone they had run out back at the village? I frowned, feeling deep creases form across my forehead. Maybe they needed to preserve their supply for the Sacramento citizens? I doubted they needed bottles of iodine and pieces of gray tarps to keep warm.

Regardless, I ripped open the first gray bundle I saw and felt my chest tighten as the same items from my own gray bundle tumbled out – expect for the water bottle. I ripped open another gray bundle, then another and another. No matter how many I seemed to open, none of them had any bottles of water.

I closed the box and opened the next one, finding another box of gray bundles. Instead of ripping them open I felt for their contents, trying to feel for the shape of a bottle of water. Again, I came up empty. Worry started to eat away inside me. What if every box only had gray bundles? If I couldn’t find water, I might not even make it to the Sacramento Providence.

Slamming the lid shut, I moved on to the next box, my growing anxiety causing me to quicken my actions. I peered down. More gray bundles. One box that I opened contained the same plastic water bottles that I had in my gray bundle, but they had been emptied of water. I tossed the empty containers back into their crates, disappointment sharp on my tongue.

With a huff I turned away, massaging the sides of my head while taking measured breaths. There were at least thirty or forty boxes in the damned truck, and if worse came to worse, I’d rip open each and every one of them to see if there’s even the tiniest drop of water inside it.

I moved away from my cluster of boxes, opting to try my luck towards the very back of the truck. It got darker the farther away I went, almost making me trip over my feet. I settled over a larger crate that was pushed up against the wall, the cold latch making me flinch back before opening it.

Inside were hundreds of thousands of small metal cylinders, each of various shapes, sizes, and colors, all dumped in together in a heaping mess. Curious, I buried my hands into the crate, letting the cylinders slide over my fingers and fall onto the floor around me. I picked one of the fallen cylinders up and held it against the light, my gaze curious as the sunlight reflected off its metal surface in a rather peculiar way. It looked awfully familiar. I stood frozen for a moment, considering the metal cylinder, before a jolt of fear split down my spine and I threw it back into the crate once I realized what it was.

Bullets.

I turned around and looked at the other crates around me and began to open them one by one. Dread filled my belly as I looked down at various guns and other weapons that had been hastily thrown into the crates and sealed off. The Citadel Officials weren’t going to the Sacramento Providence to just give them extra supplies, they were preparing for war.

It really shouldn’t have come as a shock. It made sense that the Citadel officials would want to prepare for the rebel’s attack. Only as I looked down at the ammunition and all the weapons that were littered around me, I couldn’t help but feel fear ripple down my spine. How many would die before someone decided they were tired of fighting?

I closed the crates and stepped away from them, until an abrupt bump in the road sent the entire truck – and the entirety of its contents – flying into the air. I fell backwards, my back hitting the solid floor and my head nicking the corner of a crate. Before I could stop myself, I let out a yelp in pain – and quickly covered my mouth in a vain attempt to suck the noise back in.

For the entire truck ride, I hadn’t heard any kind of commotion from the driver or its possible passengers. The truck bed was made of metal and the roads weren’t particularly well kept, so the only sounds I could hear were shifting gears and groaning steel. I held my breath and hoped that the driver didn’t hear anything.

Minutes ticked by, and the truck never lost its speed or came to a stop. With every moment that passed I relaxed a little bit more, before my heartbeat settled into a steady rhythm and my breathing returned to normal. My head throbbed with a stinging pain that made me want to whimper. With two fingers I messaged the spot on my head that I had hit on the crate, grateful to see it wasn’t bleeding. I’d be lucky if I found water inside of these crates, let alone bandages or creams to ward off infections.

I stood up slowly, gripping the surrounding crates for support, and rubbed my back. I would be lucky to survive this damn car ride, let alone be fortunate enough to make it to the Sacramento Providence without gaining the attention of the government officials.

With the pain in my head subsiding slightly, I decided to check the rest of the containers for water. Even though finding the bullets was a nasty surprise, it was reassuring to know that there weren’t just gray bundles packed away in here.

My fingers shook as I twisted open several more crates, turning up empty each time. The only unchecked crates that remained were pushed into a tight corner that was difficult for me to fit into, but I sucked in a large gulp of air and forced myself to fit nonetheless.

I ripped off the lid and held back a squeal when I inspected one of the last boxes. A plastic jug sat at the bottom, filled to the brim with clean water. Biting my lip to hold back a squeal, I hurried back to my bag and pulled out my bota bag. Carefully, I opened the nozzle and tilted the jug, letting the water fill my bota.

Once it was almost overflowing, I set the crate back down and lifted the bota to my lips. I drank until nearly three-quarters of it was gone. With my thirst satisfied, I refilled my bota and closed the crate. I moved back over to my spot and sat down, holding the bota to my chest with a childish grin on my face. The truck wasn’t going to get the best of me yet.

I laid back down to take a short nap, my stomach sloshing with water.

My eyes closed on their own accord, the truck rocking me back and forth as I fell asleep. I expected my dreams to be filled with violent images of the burning orphanage or to have flashbacks of forgotten memories of my parents being arrested, but none came. Instead darkness filled my mind, leaving me to peacefully sleep until the afternoon sun sank below the surface and the light in the truck diminished until there was no light left at all.