Scorched Earth

Do you trust a stranger when you're starving?

We had been walking through this desert landscape for almost three weeks with absolutely no morsel in sight. Apart from the odd tree, that is, which had been stripped bare and fully consumed when the Earth first turned on us.

The birds had disappeared, and only their carcasses now littered the cracked ground. Packs of hungry dogs—and humans, for that matter—skulked under the scorched sky, armed with weapons we could not access. By day fourteen, it was already a case of ‘eat or be eaten’.

Our supply of tinned goods had dwindled to single digits. I mean, there are only so many tins of beans and fruit cocktail one can stomach over the course of several months, but now, even those were officially gone. Whatever small quantities I had left, I gave to my eight-year-old daughter, who looked more malnourished by the day—wasting away before my eyes. My own hunger pangs were nothing compared to the pain and guilt I felt watching her fade.

"Read what the tin says to me, darling," I told her, just to keep her mind off her stomach. She obliged like the old stoics of our time.

So, when we found this metallic storm drain stocked with resources, it seemed like the answer to our prayers. But his responses were unsettling. He dodged my questions about how he had come to find this place and how he had hoarded so much stock.

However, we were in no position to bargain. I kept thinking that I should have sharpened my knife before stepping into this dried-out tunnel, but now it seemed pointless. My little one needed somewhere safe, so we had a fighting chance of surviving whatever this godforsaken world had become.

He grunted towards a makeshift wooden table and told us to sit on the overturned, rusted buckets. The tunnel was green with mould. If it had ever been damp, it was hard to tell, but remnants of limescale clung to several pipes. He hacked a chesty, bronchial cough and spoke.

"It's been a long time since I've seen anyone normal around here—if you know what I mean," he said. "I am Sam."

"Thank you for letting us stay here, Sam," I replied, deliberately using his name in an attempt to gain his trust. "Yes, I haven't seen anyone worth sticking around for in quite some time. I’m Selina, and this here is Suki," I added, cajoling her to say hello.

"Hi, sir. You've got a great place," Suki said. I suspected she was just being polite, as I had always taught her to be.

"Thanks, Suki. I do what I can to get by," he responded. "I know it's not much right now, but it's better than nothing. And you can call me Sam too," he added.

Suki asked, "How did you find a place like this, Sam? I mean, you have so much amazing food!"

He hesitated. "Well... not all of it is mine."

We sat in silence for a long time.

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