The Tempest by A.J. Scudiere (story read aloud .txt) 📗

road and there had been a truck on the road. If there was a truck now, there would likely be another truck in a while.

Should she stay put, or start walking?

If she had any idea where she was, she might have an idea of which direction to go. Walking seemed the smarter choice. If she found another farm, she might find people. If she found people, she might find a phone.

Even if she didn't find people, she might find an intact building, and she was not above breaking in, eating their food, and using their phone line.

“Come on, Toto.” Joule cuddled the small kitten close and wondered how to make a sling for him so he could fall asleep. Luckily, she was wearing her jacket. Alabama, had been hot and muggy, most days, but she’d learned that leaving her jacket at home proved inconvenient against the sudden changes in weather. So she often wore it tied around her waist, just to have it handy if clouds marled the sun or the winds picked up.

She remembered shoving her arms down into the sleeves as the weather had changed back at the site. Had that only been this morning? Or had she been out longer?

Joule decided it had to be the same day. She wasn’t hungry or thirsty enough to be missing too much time. So she peeled her hoodie, realizing she was a bit overwarm anyway, and slipped it around her waist. But she pulled it on backwards, creating an apron. The hood hung in front of her, and she slipped Toto into the pouch it created. Within moments, the tiny creature was asleep, bouncing along with her steps.

She found she was wishing for her own giant to pick her up, put her in a hood, and carry her along to safety. But of course, that would be terrifying. So she kept walking along the road.

She couldn't stay here. This farm wasn't functional. If there was food, it was in the grass, and she hadn't reached the point of eating things she found on the ground yet.

If there was a phone here, it had been ripped from the wall. Any lines connecting it were long gone, too. But if she kept going, she might find another farm, and that farm might be intact.

She had to pick a direction. Though she felt fully alone except for tiny Toto, she knew someone would come through here eventually. Ten minutes later, she sat back on her heels. “What do you think, Toto?”

The tiny kitten didn’t answer, not even with a cheap meow.

“Fine, it doesn’t matter what you think. We’re committed to this direction now.”

Though she walked and walked and walked, the old road curved around the edge of the farmland and it felt as if she hadn't gotten anywhere.

She saw more furrows in the earth, and, in many cases, there was just a sense that things were missing. The grass still stood, but the trees were gone, pulled up—roots and all—leaving gaping wounds behind. The lawn toys stood unmarked. The family who lived in the house must have small children. Though the plastic playhouse shutters looked like they might have been messed with, no damage was evident. Behind it, the real house was completely gone.

The sun had moved in the sky and she was feeling the road through the soles of her work boots before she saw another farm, but as she got close she saw that this house, too, had been razed.

“Holy crapnuggets,” she muttered to Toto, who was still sleeping in the hood. He opened one eye and rolled over, lying on his back. She’d made him a hammock on a beautiful sunny day.

Lucky little sucker, she thought, but she surveyed the damage again, wondering if any of it could help her.

If there was food, it was long gone, but there might be something useful.

Hell. Logic said she should check it out. It looked like it had been a real home, and therefore it should have a kitchen, and a kitchen should have cups or something. Joule would happily take one from the grass. That way, when she went back to the stream, she could carry water with her. Maybe she would get lucky and find a Twinkie or granola bar.

She looked up and down the road, but no more trucks had come along in the time she’d been watching, and there was no one on this deserted road now. So she headed into the grass, hoping to find something.

The distance was deceptive; the farmhouse much farther away than she’d originally thought. The walking wasn't easy, the ground lumpier than it appeared. Apparently, this was a cow pasture.

And after smelling the first pile of manure, she had to make a point of avoiding the patties. The last thing she wanted to do was finally find a savior and smell like cow shit.

The fence around the home was what she’d come to know as black horse fencing. The posts had slats between, tipped vertical, making a flat front fence. And all of it remained intact and easy to climb over.

As she dropped onto the grass on the other side, she was grateful to find it was mowed lawn perfectly devoid of cow pies. It was not, however, devoid of nails, broken wood, or glass.

Toto squirmed again, wanting to be let down. When she didn’t let him, he climbed down her sleeve, puncturing her as he went.

“Ouch! Ouch. Toto!”

But he reached the end of her arm and jumped for the ground. For a moment, her heart stalled. He was too tiny to leap that far, but it seemed all it cost him was a bit of a thump as he hit. Her kitten wandered off, butt and tail twitching as he went.

Shit, she thought, following him. She'd named him. She knew he was too far from his mother now. It was up to her to keep him from getting cut on any of the dangerous things scattered through the yard. And where was she