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tree line trying to work out in my head how long a
walk it’ll take me but I ain’t sure, my thinking is getting a bit
muddled. I need to drink more water soon, I know that for
certain.
    Out of nowhere a flash of light hits my
eyes nearly blinding me. What the hell? I squint into the light and
slowly realize it’s the sun hitting something off in the distance
to my left and reflecting it back to me. Is that…? No….cain’t be!
But it is sure enough…shanties, about half a league from where I’m
standing. Between the blowing dust and heat shimmers I ain’t
noticed ‘em before. Right away I start heading for them, the only
thoughts in my head being of water…food…people! But I don’t get no
more than five paces when my mind goes clear again. What if I find
something there I don’t want to find? Like muties? Or raiders? I
hesitate. Then again maybe it’s just normal people like me, with
fresh water and maybe even a bed for me to sleep in for a night.
Shizen, the thought of sleeping in a soft bed instead of on the
hard ground crawling with sand biters… well I figure it’s worth
taking the risk. Decision made I head for the shanties.
    I approach them slowly. I don’t see or
hear nuthin but I keep my eyes open for any movement, for any sign
of something not right. If it was muties or raiders living here
then they probably won’t come out greeting me with smiles, I’m
thinking.
    There are three shanties in all, facing
each other in a kind of triangle formation. They look a mite
different then the shanties of Rivercross, these are mostly built
of wood. Comes from living so close to a tree line, I reckon. But
they still have the tin roofs and doors I’m used to seeing. Two of
the doors are torn off and the third is just hanging by a hinge,
swaying in the breeze. I stop walking…look around. It’s real quiet.
The silence spooks me. It reminds me of the ghost villages from
Thomas’ scare stories. I take a couple of steps toward the closest
shanty, the rocks crunching under my boots the only sound in the
dead calm. I take a quick look in through the doorless entry but I
don’t go inside. I keep my attention on my surroundings. I don’t
want nuthin creeping up on me.
    The shanty is just a small one roomed
building and it don’t take me long to see it’s empty. The place is
tore up though, belongings scattered everywhere. Somebody had
searched it for sure but it ain’t been scavenged, or set aflame.
Strange. I find the next two shanties in the same condition, both
of them empty as well. Where are the people who live here, I think.
What happened to them? I stand in the middle of the three buildings
looking around, curious. I spot a well on a little rise just past
one of them and my curiosity is quickly replaced by one single
thought. Water! Hoping in my heart that the water ain’t foul I head
for it.
    The wooden cover has been knocked off
and is laying on the ground in pieces but the rope and bucket seem
undamaged. I lower the bucket down, hear the splash, pull it back
up. Please, please, please let it be drinkable!
    I peer into the bucket. Looks clean
enough. Don’t smell foul. I taste it and smile for the first time
in weeks, causing my parched lips to crack open and bleed. It
tastes like gods brew! I want to drink ‘til I burst but I know if I
do that I’m just going to retch it back up, so I take my time, sip
it slow. I drink my fill, the cool liquid easing my dry throat.
Finally, my thirst quenched, I take off my hat and pour the rest of
the water over my head, not even caring that it’s soaking my
clothes. It feels real good and I know I’ll dry quick enough in the
heat of the day. I lay down my slingbag and bow, ease my shoulder.
Reckon I may as well take a rest, fill my waterskins. The place
appears harmless enough. I’m busy looking through my slingbag for
the second waterskin when I hear it. A low, deep, guttural
growling. I freeze. Slowly I raise my head and my hand instantly
moves for the