Fading Signals

There were no plants, no life anywhere. Just him. He liked it that way. It was quiet.

He picked himself up from the ground, and began to walk to the West. His backpack chafed him, but he didn't mind. The pain, like the backpack, was a reminder of how things had been before the dust.

He had been walking for many days, and had only two canteens of water left. Barely enough to make it through the desert. He also had some salted beef, but he would save that. The salt would make him thirsty.

There was a noise from his backpack. He recognized it, but it had been so long, so very long. It took him by surprise.

He took off the backpack and put it on the ground. The zipper squealed as it opened, and he began to rummage through the pack. The sound got louder the closer he got to the bottom. And then...

"...anyone at all. Please, if you can hear me, answer. Over..."

He picked up the radio and looked at it. He had found it in a rubbage pile a month before. It was another reminder. he had never intended to use it. He hadn't thought he would need to. Apparently the batteries were still good.

The voice continued, "...We need help. There's no water here, and no way out. If there's anyone left out there, please answer. Help us. Over..."

He cleared his throat. What was he going to say? Could he even speak, after so long? He would see.

"Hello," his voice was scratchy, barely audible. "I can hear you. Over."

He waited.

And then...

"...H-hello? Is there really someone there? Over..."

He put the readio to his lips again. "Yes. Over."

More silence from the radio. The wind howled, and the dust began to sting his eyes.

"...Oh my God, I can't believe it. It's been so long. What's your name? Over..."

He thought for a moment. What was his name? It had been so long since he had said it, so much longer since he had heard anyone else say it. For a moment he couldn't remember.

"Clifford," he said, "Over."

"...Hello, Clifford. My name is Jessica. My sister, Mary is here with me. Where are you? Over..."

Clifford cleared his throat again. "I'm about two weeks into the Great Desert. Over."

"...Which Great Desert, the Wester, or the Easter? Over..."

"I wasn't," he said, his voice getting stronger, "aware that there was such a thing as an Eastern Great Desert."

The reply was immediate.

"...You must be in the Eastern Desert, then. The Western Desert ends at the Western Desert ends at the coast. You would have known. Over..."

Clifford closed his backpack and stood, swing it onto his back.

"You said you needed help. Water. I may be able to help. Where are you? Over." He began to walk again.

"...A small village about two miles into the Western Desert. There was a well down here once, but... now it's just the two of us. We don't have enough strenght to make it to the valley. Over..."

Clifford thought about this. Two miles wasn't much of a walk, even if you were weak. If it meant survival...

He forced the thought from his head. Some people were not as strong as he was.

"When did your water run out? Over."

"...About six days ago. Over." The voice was not Jessica's. It was younger, frightened.

"Mary? Over."

"...Yes. Over..."

"Where is Jessica? Over."

"...She had to sleep for a while. I'm worried. I think that if I sleep, I might not wake up. I think that Jessica won't wake up either. Over..."

Six days. The little girl was right. Chances are they wouldn't wake up.

"Mary? You have to wake your sister up. I'll try to get to you , but I'm still a few days from the edge of the desert. Over."

Silence. And then...

"...I don't think we'll make it that long, Clifford. Over..."

It was Jessica.

"How wide is the valley? Over."

"...Only about a mile. But Clifford? The valley is dying. There isn't any water there. Over..."

Clifford stopped walking. No water. He thought about his own dwindling supply.

"...Clifford? Are you still there? Over..."

"Yes, I'm still here. You were trying for the coast, weren't you? What happened? Over."

"...There was a sandstorm. We were trapped here. It broke this morning. Over..."

Clifford started walking again.

"I see. If you can hang on for a few days, I can get to you. I have water. Not much, but it might help. Over."

"...Thank you, but it's too late. When I called for help, I wasn't expecting an answer. Another voice was a relief, but I doubt that you can do anymore from where you are. Oh my God! Hold on! Over..."

"Jessica? What's going on? Mary? C'mon, talk to me."

There was a long period of silence. Clifford took a small sip of water, and kept walking. The water tasted sweet. it took all his self-control not to drink more. While he walked, he waited, and listened. The wind howled.

"...Clifford? Are you there? Over..."

"I'm still here. What happened? Over."

"...Mary passed out. She's still breathing... but I can't wake her. She barely has a pulse. What should I do? Over..."

Clifford thought back to all the times he had seen people die of thirst. There had been several occassions since the dust came. Without water, there was only one humane thing left to do.

"Let her sleep," he said, "Over."

"...What do you mean? I can't just let her die..."

"If you were to wake her now, she would just suffer. Let her go, Jessica. There's nothing you can do. Over."

The line was quiet. Clifford did not expect to hear from Jessica for several hours, if he did ever hear from her. He kept walking.

Sure enough, just as the sun was beginning to set, she called him again.

"...Clifford? Are you there? Over..."

"Yes. Over."

"...She's gone. Over..."

"I know. I'm sorry. Over."

"...I didn't wake her. She didn't suffer. I hope... Clifford?"

"Yes? Over."

"...Thank you for being there. I..."

Clifford missed the rest. The radio crackled, and died for a moment.

"Jessica, are you there? Over."

"...Clifford, I don't want you to come looking for me. I found a gun Clifford..." The radio died for a minute, and then, "... better this way. Over."

"Jessica, don't! I can make it there! Over."

"...No, please, you've been so good to me. Good-bye..."

"JESSICA!"

The radio crackled once, and then died. He was alone.

The wind howled, and dust filled his lungs. He dropped the radio and kept walking. There was nothing he could do now. He had maybe a week's worth of water left, if he pushed it to the limit. The valley was out of water. There was no point in turning back, there was no water where he had come from. The nearest water was at the coast, at least two weeks walking away.

Clifford kept walking, knowing he was a dead man.