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Gasping awake in the chilling rain is not something I enjoy doing at sunrise. However, that’s exactly how the morning greeted me. I wished for rain to fill my canteens and got more than I bargained for. My clothes are soaked, my hair is matted to my face, and there’s no better shelter in sight. My little angel sleeps under the only tarp we have, big enough for her to lie under without getting wet.
The clouds look like they’ll linger for a while, the smell of rain still thick in the air. Now that I have water, the only thing left to do is find decent shelter. The buildings are skeletons of their former selves, and we give the few that survived a wide birth. You never know what you’ll stumble across going into one of those places. It’s safer to look for deserted areas with some form of coverage to keep eyes away from us. We stay out in the open and as long as I find suitable accommodation; I know we’re safer outside than inside of any structure. When people are looking for a safe place to stay, they usually find it indoors, so I’ve always done the opposite.
The rain lets off a bit, giving us a small reprieve. I use the time to pack up, eat, and go out in search of shelter against the weather. We finally find it around dusk. A big sturdy oak tree in the middle of nowhere, about five miles outside of town. Its branches will protect us from most of the rain; enough to allow me to sleep through the night.
My angel is good about our travels. I think it’s because she’s so used to having to be quiet when we walk. We’ve been on the move since the day she was born, so she’s known nothing else. My heart aches for not being able to provide a normal childhood. One full of friends, school, and birthdays. Pieces of normality that will never be the same.
Azami, my little angel, seems right on track with her weight and height for her age. She’s never been sick and always has a healthy glow. For a two-year-old, she seems exceptionally smart. When she was born, a Japanese book about exotic flowers washed up on the bank of the river where we were camping. Her name translates tothorn flower. She’s the result of unfortunate circumstances, her father a virtual stranger, but also beautiful and sweet. She’s my everything.
“Azami, baby, you want to stay under a big tree tonight?” She looks up at me, hanging onto my pointer finger while we walk.
Her big, bright blue eyes, which are so much like her father’s, grow as wide as saucers when she smiles up at me. She nods, bouncing with excitement.
“Twee, Momma. Twee!”
I laugh and swing our arms back and forth. Heavens, I love this child. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
We’re about fifty yards away when the excitement builds inside of me.Finally, a safe, dry place to lay my head for a night.I always cherish these moments. The same mindless landscape fills my vision in every direction as we skip toward the tree. We’re still a few yards away when something bright pops out of the trunk and then disappears seconds later.
I freeze in my tracks, tugging Azami to an abrupt stop.That didn’t look like any kind of animal.My brain’s alarm system triggers, warning me to turn around and walk away, but something stronger pulls me forward. We should run, considering that I may put our lives in jeopardy because of my curiosity, but my gut is leading me.
We continue walking at a slower, more cautious pace, stopping a handful of steps away. “Hello? Is anyone there? Please, we don’t want any trouble. We have no food or useful supplies. We’re just looking for a place out of the rain and we’ll leave at first light.” I pause, waiting for something to run out and attack us. “Hel…” I begin to repeat, but stop when a head pops out of the tree trunk.
“Hello,” a blond boy greets, looking back and forth between Azami and me.
“Hello,” I repeat, a little confused.
We continue to stare, assessing each other. After our silent conversation, he deems us fit, because he finishes exiting the tree and stands before us. The boy is about eleven or twelve, with bright blond hair. He’s thin, and in dirty, tattered clothing. His eyes stand out over his appearance. They’re a brilliant blue, like a clear summer sky. They match Azami’s so much that I’d swear they’re related.
“Um… you two can stay here if you want,” he offers, his voice shaky.
“Oh, well, where are your parents? I can speak with them, or your guardian, if you have one?” I ask, afraid I already know the answer.
His eyes grow distant as he looks to the ground before answering. “My mom died in the bright light. My father died when I was one.” He tries unsuccessfully to crack a smile in my direction.
“Are you here alone, then?”
“Yes.”
Azami takes a few steps in his direction and I follow, agreeing with her assessment. Wewantto stay here with him. He shuffles back against the tree, an instinct to defend himself when approached.
“How have you made it this long on your own? You’re so young?” I ask.
The smile that stretches across his face is real, pride swelling inside him. “Come on in, and we can talk about it.” He waves us toward the entrance of the tree, stealing brief glances at Azami.
When we reach him, he steps aside so I can crouch down to fit inside the trunk, Azami attaching herself to my side. Once inside, the trunk opens into a room. Agiant fort.That’s what immediately springs to mind while I observe our surroundings.Azami is going to love it here.
The inside of the trunk is dug out, along with part of the ground, creating a cozy room. A couple of solar lanterns cling to the inside walls, illuminating the beat up chair, sitting against the wall. A double size mattress sits parallel, along the other wall. Papers hang from any bare surface, like decorations on a fridge, of newspaper clippings from days before the Flash.
“I like to read and keep the ones I find,” the boy says, cutting into my mesmerized state.
I nod and continue to read while the boy moves around behind me. I’m too distracted by the paper clippings to realize what he’s doing until he hands Azami a bowl of chunky soup.
She looks up at him and smiles.
The boy loads another bowl and hands it to me. Stirring the soup, I take notice of all the different textures; potatoes, carrots, and green beans. The smell is invigorating and I can’t help but watch him in wonder. He smiles at me, again pleased with himself. I lean against the wall and slide to the dirt floor, Azami immediately crawls into my lap. The warm liquid filling my mouth bursts with flavors. I’ve had soups over the last few years, but it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten something warm.
“Thank you,” I say, filling up another spoonful.
