Salvation, continued
Week 3, Winner
The sky here was always an impossible blue. Marina could not replicate it despite years of experimentation. That was one reason she didn’t want to leave. What new home could have such a sky?
Others thought her foolish. The crushing drought had dragged on for many years at this point. Crops withered before harvest year after year. The village’s numbers faltered and fell. If they didn’t leave soon for more fertile territory, the only people left would be dried-out husks, too old to birth the next generation.
Tensions were growing. Soon, unless Marina could find a miracle, there would be a schism, and their society would be destroyed.
So she was out on the mesas to pray for an answer. There had been a time when each mesa held farm plots, and people could be found working the soil and tending plants here. Now, most people scoured the deep, shady valleys between the plateaus in search of game that hadn’t yet fled or edible plants that cling to the cool, dry riverbeds. Marina walked alone among the abandoned plots. In her wandering, she soon left the cultivated lands behind, aimlessly walking, simultaneously reveling in the blue blue blue above her and despairing of their hopeless situation. It was foolish to expose herself in this way. Soon, the dry heat would desiccate her. Already her mouth felt like chalk and her eyes like fire. She did not notice when she passed from distracted wandering to stumbling delirium. The sky filled her vision now, urging her onward. And so she continued, one foot in front of the other, chasing the sky that promised her an answer, a solution for all her problems.
With her vision thus occluded, she saw not where she placed her feet, and knew not when her foot found, instead of dusty earth, open air. And so she tumbled down into a canyon, but she was not afraid, because she knew this was what the sky had wanted her to find.
At the bottom, she found not hard ground, but water. She hit the surface hard — hard enough to wake her from her dreamlike state and drive the air from her lungs. The water closed above her and her momentum slowed. Her eyes, still open, could see the wavy streaks of blue sky still beckoning her from far above. Her lungs began to scream for air just as her feet touched the rocky bottom. She shoved off, up, pulling herself toward the surface with urgency but without fear. How could she be fearful? She had found salvation.
A natural spring, cool and vibrant, had sprung from the heart of this little canyon, and filled the bottom with a deep pool. Overflow fed a new stream, and Marina followed it to where the plateaus were worn down into a wide, low desert that stretched as far as she could see. But the desert was coming alive — vibrant green lined the banks of the new stream as it spilled into its new path.
Marina spent hours exploring her discovery, all the while offering thanks to the benevolent sky for leading her to this lifesaving gift. A watery abundance of cress and chestnut and leafy greens fed her as she explored, harvested from the banks of the stream as she wandered. When at last the sun sagged toward the horizon and an ombre purple bled into the sky from the eastern horizon, Marina found a rock hollow near the source, on the banks of the deep pond into which she had fallen. A thin layer of moss coated the rocks — it wasn’t deep enough to cushion her as she slept, but still it filled her with joy, knowing that once again green things would grow on the mesas. She dozed off as the last light faded.
***
Morning came late to the deep, still ravine, and Marina, exhausted from the previous day’s exertions, was slow to stir. Reluctant to leave, she swam in the pond, reveling in the chill that seeped into her flesh. Then she foraged along the stream bank for all the edible plants her pockets could hold. And at length, she made her way back up to the top of the nearest plateau, climbing from the worn-down western edge using an old game trail. She hadn’t seen larger game on the mesas for years, but now, she knew, they would return.
Long before, her ancestors had built a network of bridges that connected the system of plateaus. Her people no longer knew where the materials to build the bridges had come from — there were no such rocks to be found in the terrain of the mesas. It was dense and smooth, harder than any rocks they could find today. The lines of it were unnatural, lacking the rough edges of the structures her people could build now. She had heard elders refer to the bridges as being made of metal or steel, but none now alive knew what these terms meant. Wherever their materials had come from, those ancestors had done good, lasting work. The bridges were strong and true, showing remarkably little wear for structures that were older than Marina’s grandmother’s grandmother.
Though she had never ventured this far out on the mesas, she followed the morning sun and made her way swiftly back to the settlement. It was early afternoon when she arrived, her legs aching and skin flushed. Her pockets were damp from the wilting greens. She spotted her mother’s home on the edge of the settlement and hastened her steps.
But the house was empty. “Mother?” Marina called, and received no response. Not just empty, but deserted — Marina could see now that the living space was in disarray. Favorite blankets that once adorned the rocking chairs were missing. An old hat, stained and torn, had been dropped in the middle of the room and left there. The chest that held her mother’s family heirlooms was open, and empty.
She stepped out into the small yard, and looked up and down the street. She could see a gathering of people in the center of town, in the settlement’s traditional meeting place. Perhaps her mother was there.
There was a tense mood in the crowd — before she reached the square, she could hear tight voices barking short sentences. Body language was stiff, closed. Each person had a pack on their back, and more bags in their hands or at their feet. She spotted Jasina, her friend since childhood, and lightly touched her shoulder. “What’s going on?”
Jasina turned, looking annoyed until she registered who had spoken to her. “Marina!” she shouted, her face shocked. “Everyone! Marina! She’s here!”
The crowd of people turned to look, and a quiet shock spread through them. “What’s going on?” she whispered to Jasina.
“You were missing!” she said. “Elder Tima said it was a sign that we must leave. That if we stayed any longer, we would all be taken by the drought. But you’re here!”
Elder Tima was the strongest voice pushing for the people to abandon this settlement and relocate to one of the large towns far to the east. Many had already gone, tired of waiting for the drought to break. But Marina knew that moving to the towns would mean scattering their people and shattering their traditions, their way of life. The towns were all built in the remains of the ancient cities, nestled close to the lifeless husks that once were magnificent towers. People got sick more often there. People got lost in the noise and the crush of too many bodies. People lost themselves to the struggle to survive.
Marina had refused to move, and many had agreed with her, surviving on the settlement’s one shared well and the few plants they were able to grow with its dwindling water supply.
Her mother emerged from the crowd and slowly made her way to Marina’s side. “I looked everywhere for you,” she said. Her face was weary, all lines curving down. “Elder Tima insisted that you were dead when you didn’t return last night. I was so scared.”
“I am here, Mother. I am alive. And I found something wonderful.”
“You found something?” Jasina asked. “What do you mean?”
Marina reached into her pockets and pulled out the now shriveled assortment of greens she’d harvested at the new spring. “I found water. A whole new source of it, and plants growing, and a new chance for us. Look!” She thrust her hands out, so all the assembled people could see. Many gasped and stepped toward her, but then a voice rang out, freezing them.
“Stop!” Elder Tima shouted. She pushed her way through the crowd, stalking to Marina. “What is the meaning of this?”
Marina lowered her gaze. “Elder, I found a spring. We do not have to go. Our prayers have been answered.”
Tima snorted. “Whose prayers?” She grabbed Marina’s wrist in an iron grip. “Where did you have these hidden? Have you been stealing water from the well?”
***
This is a second-stage story-start — if you’d like to see where the story goes, “clap” for it. My “winning” second-stage story-start (based on number of readers who clap for it) will be developed further and will become a full short story!
