Speaker 1: Hey, this is Annie and Samantha. I'm welcome to stuff
Speaker 1: I've ever told you a protection of iHeartRadio, and welcome
Speaker 1: to another edition of Sminty Fiction, which is a once
Speaker 1: a month thing that we do. It has slightly I
Speaker 1: always say slightly, it has more soundscaping. I would say
Speaker 1: it's like not over the top, but it is definitely
Speaker 1: more soundscaping than we normally have. It is an ongoing
Speaker 1: thing that we do. This is Terminus Part two, as
Speaker 1: the title was just, is part two of the Terminus trilogy,
Speaker 1: which is a thing that I wrote during National Novel
Speaker 1: Writing months starting in twenty ten.
Speaker 2: Did you know there's a whole controversy happening at no
Speaker 2: Pentley Nano Rimo actually hires people and they all got
Speaker 2: laid off or something like that. They're not doing well.
Speaker 3: Sorry, this was many years ago for me, but yeah,
Speaker 3: I guess.
Speaker 1: That's to say this is an episode of snacks. I
Speaker 1: must have been in this particular space, but I none
Speaker 1: of them are currently sponsors, but a lot of brands
Speaker 1: are mentioned, so there's that. The content warning just in general,
Speaker 1: there's disease, death, end of the world stuff, hunger for sure,
Speaker 1: Hence the importance of snacks. Yeah, so quick recap. So
Speaker 1: the world is ending because basically people can't have children
Speaker 1: anymore because of this disease. And our main character, Tilda,
Speaker 1: has escaped from the government entity and religious entity that
Speaker 1: rose in the collapse of civilization because she didn't want
Speaker 1: to lose him to this government entity. They are constantly
Speaker 1: on the run. They're constantly being hunted. She discovers that
Speaker 1: there is a vaccine, but these entities destroyed it. They
Speaker 1: saved one. Because Madison is the grandson of the leaders
Speaker 1: of this religious organization, she is able to broadcast about
Speaker 1: what they did, what happened. Madison gets the vaccine. They
Speaker 1: are on the run. There's a man on the horse.
Speaker 1: We still don't know what's going on with him. Still
Speaker 1: still don't I know. I really I was pulling this along.
Speaker 1: It's cold. They are running out of resources. They found
Speaker 1: a place to stay that had a dead body and
Speaker 1: the phone ring and terrified of phones, they did not
Speaker 1: answer it. They fled on a horse that they did steal.
Speaker 1: And then over the intercom that the government has installed
Speaker 1: to put out their messages, she gets a direct message
Speaker 1: from the leader of the resistance, who she in her
Speaker 1: view betrayed her, asking her to come back to Washington, DC.
Speaker 1: So that is where we are. What are they going
Speaker 1: to do? Well? Let us find out and get into
Speaker 1: the fiction. Tilda glanced around, uneasy, her skin crawled with indecision.
Speaker 1: What do we do, Madison whispered? Tilda shook her head days.
Speaker 1: This was the second time she'd gotten a direct message
Speaker 1: over the state broadcast system, demanding she'd go somewhere, that
Speaker 1: we could win this. She didn't trust Mark as simple
Speaker 1: as that. She hadn't trusted him before, and her instincts
Speaker 1: had turned out to be correct. Mark had been willing
Speaker 1: to use Madison as a bargaining chip to protect his
Speaker 1: men and secure a vaccine he hadn't even been sure
Speaker 1: had existed. He'd taken Tilda and her child to Chicago
Speaker 1: against their will. Despite this, she found herself unable to
Speaker 1: despise him for it. Everything he'd done, he'd done with
Speaker 1: his people and the greater good. As much as Tilda
Speaker 1: detested that phrase in mind, she didn't like it, but
Speaker 1: couldn't say she wouldn't do something similar to protect Madison.
Speaker 1: An image of the man she'd shot in the underground
Speaker 1: laboratory flashed in her mind. She tightened her grip on
Speaker 1: the reins and gave them a flick scout could apparently
Speaker 1: since their tenseness, and started down the road again without hesitation.
Speaker 1: Did the man with the horse work for the resistance?
Speaker 1: Were they out looking for them too? And as pressing
Speaker 1: as those questions were, they were distractions from the real
Speaker 1: one Tilda faced. Did she trust Mark? And even if
Speaker 1: she did, did helping secure the future for our children?
Speaker 1: As Mark put it, warn't putting Madison at risk? Should
Speaker 1: they turn around and head back into the equation of
Speaker 1: unknown variables that were converging in the very place they'd
Speaker 1: nearly lost their lives fleeing DC? Tilda didn't know her
Speaker 1: instincts or could it be her fear? And fear alone
Speaker 1: told her to stay away, to press on and find
Speaker 1: what safety they could as far away from DC as possible.
Speaker 1: Where fear and instinct did the same thing. It boiled
Speaker 1: down to staying alive, didn't it? She didn't owe them
Speaker 1: a damn thing, That was one thing she knew with certainty.
Speaker 1: She pushed onward, aware that Madison was waiting for her answer.
Speaker 1: The question then became why did they need her and Madison?
Speaker 1: Mark had been sure to mention Madison back in DC.
Speaker 1: She assumed they could have little use for her. It
Speaker 1: was Madison they wanted, or more specifically, his newly minted
Speaker 1: immunized blood. Madison had expressed his desire to help people
Speaker 1: if he could, but Tilda wasn't sure what that would entail,
Speaker 1: yet another unknown that made her nervous. No, she decided,
Speaker 1: too many unknowns without knowing more. They'd just be venturing
Speaker 1: into enemy territory with no escape plan. And while Mark
Speaker 1: and his resistance might be at the consul now arm
Speaker 1: could take it back, the state could take it back,
Speaker 1: or a fringe group. It was a power vacuum of
Speaker 1: holatile situation for the power hungry to try and rest control.
Speaker 1: We can't go mouse, she whispered, as though someone might
Speaker 1: be eavesdropping. Not yet, we don't know enough. It's too
Speaker 1: dangerous right now. She could tell just by how Madison
Speaker 1: was sitting that he was struggling to accept that answer
Speaker 1: and the guilt that came along with it. Maybe when
Speaker 1: things settle down, she offered, hollowly, knowing in her heart
Speaker 1: that things would never be safe enough. The situation may
Speaker 1: become more stable, but it would never be truly safe,
Speaker 1: not in her lifetime, maybe not ever. What was the
Speaker 1: threshold of acceptable risk that she was willing to incur
Speaker 1: when it came to Madison. They'd been so constantly in
Speaker 1: a state of threat that choosing to do something that
Speaker 1: would jeopardize him even further without the promise of a
Speaker 1: vaccine or something equivalent did not appeal to her in slight.
Speaker 1: It went against every bone in her body, every emotion,
Speaker 1: every fiber of her being. In retrospect, she found it
Speaker 1: difficult to believe that she'd ventured into arms headquarters the
Speaker 1: heart of those who hunted her Madison, on the hope
Speaker 1: that they hadn't destroyed a vaccine she'd only heard tell existed.
Speaker 1: She'd been desperate, she'd wanted another future for Madison, and
Speaker 1: was she now copacetic with denying the possibility of that
Speaker 1: future to other children, other children like Madison, of giving
Speaker 1: parents like her hope for now? Yes, what good did
Speaker 1: all the risks she'd gone through that she'd put Madison
Speaker 1: through do if he was taken into custody by the
Speaker 1: Resistance or arm or whatever entities sought to control a
Speaker 1: world spiraling uncontrollably downward and made to live a life
Speaker 1: of confinement and object to be studied and used for
Speaker 1: the greater good or harmed in any way. No good
Speaker 1: at all, Tilda answered to herself, trying to ease the
Speaker 1: guilt bubbling in her stomach. They had another vaccine, she
Speaker 1: reminded herself, and more pettily, the resistance had already betrayed
Speaker 1: her once. They'd already displayed not only how little they
Speaker 1: cared for her wishes, but how simply it came to
Speaker 1: them to be Madison as a thing to be used.
Speaker 1: They'll confind us, Madison asserted, quietly, ominously, they'll be looking
Speaker 1: for us. Get in line, Tilda muttered. Madison half turned
Speaker 1: to look at her inquisitively, and Tilda relented. I know,
Speaker 1: but we can try Mouse. She'd been using his nickname
Speaker 1: a lot lately. It was softer on her tongue. We've
Speaker 1: been running from people for you. We've gotten pretty good
Speaker 1: at it. Madison chuckled, a little, probably more at her
Speaker 1: inclusion of him as a partner in crime than anything else,
Speaker 1: or maybe to make her feel better. She knew the
Speaker 1: guilt that was plaguing him, it plagued her too, But
Speaker 1: she had the luxury of pinning it on her responsibility
Speaker 1: to keep Madison safe. It was his blood and his
Speaker 1: well being. Madison had no such deflection. Traced back to him.
Speaker 1: He squirmed in the saddle. Thunder rumbled slowly in the distance.
Speaker 1: Don't I shouldn't I help them?
Speaker 3: Though?
Speaker 1: If I can? Isn't that the right thing? Tilda pondered
Speaker 1: that for a moment, maybe they need to help themselves
Speaker 1: for once. It was a passive, aggressive answer, and not
Speaker 1: one that would satisfy her or Madison in the long term.
Speaker 1: But it was honest. Was the truth? What was she becoming?
Speaker 1: What was she passing on to Madison? They were shaping
Speaker 1: the world. Her decisions were impacting the future in a
Speaker 1: much more significant way than she ever could have imagined.
Speaker 1: But she did what she always did. She played it off,
Speaker 1: She ignored it, and kept pressing forward, even though she
Speaker 1: didn't know where Ford led. Yes, I think so, Tilda said,
Speaker 1: wondering how Madison understood the events that played out that
Speaker 1: culminated with them going to Chicago with the Resistance. Did
Speaker 1: he realize they'd been betrayed, that the Resistance was content
Speaker 1: to use him as leverage? Do you think that was
Speaker 1: him on the phone too? A bizarre thought but most
Speaker 1: likely true, though how he'd known that's where they would
Speaker 1: be to call it. The fact he'd gotten it to
Speaker 1: work at all definitely made Til to question the likelihood
Speaker 1: they'd be able to evade him and his ilk for law.
Speaker 1: The fog dissipated, the road came into view. Tilda pushed
Speaker 1: Scout ahead, perhaps more quickly than she should given their
Speaker 1: water situation, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being chase.
Speaker 1: Pursued intently, of being observed. Tilda's mind wandered from blood
Speaker 1: and vaccines to food and water and shelter. How much
Speaker 1: of her time was spent dwelling on these things? Too much?
Speaker 1: For sure? What did people think about before this? Tilda
Speaker 1: felt an odd anxiety at the thought. They continued southward,
Speaker 1: a sea of unspoken questions between them. Tilda wished they
Speaker 1: hadn't heard the broadcast. Mountains rolled like blue waves to
Speaker 1: their left, forest to their right. The sky's hues shifted
Speaker 1: into a soft blue. Though Tilda was expecting it, they
Speaker 1: didn't pass another person on the road. It was strange,
Speaker 1: but somehow it made her feel even more threatened than
Speaker 1: it had when they were running into the herd. Of
Speaker 1: folks walking to the north. More and more, Tilda came
Speaker 1: to the conclusion that visiting her parents was out of
Speaker 1: the question, but she couldn't shake the idea of it
Speaker 1: from her mind. She wanted their advice now more than ever.
Speaker 1: She needed their advice, But all those who were chasing
Speaker 1: her in Madison would be expecting that. And who's to
Speaker 1: say her parents wanted anything to do with her anymore?
Speaker 1: What must they think of her? She couldn't dislodge the
Speaker 1: image either of her parents meeting Madison. She was proud
Speaker 1: of him, of his intelligence, his curiosity features. She loved him,
Speaker 1: and she wanted her parents to love him as she did.
Speaker 1: It was an image she'd just have to hold in
Speaker 1: her head, she told herself firmly. If the Resistance was
Speaker 1: looking for her, and they did their due diligence, they'd
Speaker 1: have to send people to search for her. At her
Speaker 1: old home in Atlanta, she wondered if her mother and
Speaker 1: father were all right after her arm had presumably coerced
Speaker 1: them into sending her that message of the broadcast system.
Speaker 1: They continued on their new bearing westward. As the sun
Speaker 1: moved higher in the sky above them, the temperature warmed,
Speaker 1: but the warmth seemed very superficial on their already bone
Speaker 1: deep cold bodies. Tilda wished now that she'd taken the
Speaker 1: time to search the desk drawers at the office they'd
Speaker 1: stayed in before they fled that morning. She might have
Speaker 1: found a map, which would come in handy right now.
Speaker 1: With their return to a paved road, Tilda had expected
Speaker 1: to see the migration of people that had led to
Speaker 1: her nearly fatal decision to cut through the state park,
Speaker 1: but they'd yet to see anyone. The roads were empty.
Speaker 1: They passed dilapidated gas station. Tilda guided Scout under the
Speaker 1: awning that had been mostly reduced to cross beams. She
Speaker 1: doubted they would find anything of use inside, but it
Speaker 1: would be irresponsible not to check. She fastened Scout to
Speaker 1: an exposed metal pipe right outside the glass door patting
Speaker 1: around the neck. The glass wasn't shattered, but cracked, a
Speaker 1: good sign that this place might not have necessarily been looted.
Speaker 1: The newspaper plastered outside the windows made it impossible to
Speaker 1: tell from the outside. When Tilda pulled out the handle,
Speaker 1: it didn't budge, it had brusted shut. She sighed in disappointment,
Speaker 1: jangling the handle fruitlessly. Do we have to break in?
Speaker 1: Madison rubbed his gloved hands together for warmth, reminiscent of
Speaker 1: someone's scheming hatching plots. Let's look around, Maybe there's another
Speaker 1: way in, or a metal bar to use to pry
Speaker 1: the door open. They circled around the back, where there
Speaker 1: was indeed another door. It was locked as well, but
Speaker 1: the entire knob fell off and Tilda twisted it. Tilda
Speaker 1: reached inside the hole left by the knob, gripped her
Speaker 1: fingers around the metal rod that had connected the two
Speaker 1: knobs together, and twisted, pulling it toward her body. At
Speaker 1: the same time, the white door, stained with rust and mold, gave,
Speaker 1: practically falling off the hinges. As Tilda swung an outward,
Speaker 1: nearly losing her footing, an old, rotten wood smell wafted
Speaker 1: over them, and in unison, they reached up to cover
Speaker 1: their noses, coughing into their elbows. After regaining her bearings,
Speaker 1: Tilda edged inside the door, tile painted a sickly green
Speaker 1: that reflected onto peeling walls, painting the room in an
Speaker 1: eerie greenish glow. The smell became less pungent, and Tilda
Speaker 1: tentatively lowered her arm, taking in her surroundings. In the
Speaker 1: corner was a rusted toilet, the ceramic cracked. Next to
Speaker 1: it was a sink leaning forward as it pulled free
Speaker 1: from the wall. Above it was a black paper towel
Speaker 1: dispenser that looked out of place, far too modern compared
Speaker 1: to the rest of the room. In the far corner
Speaker 1: was a dingy mop in a periwinkled blue pail. The
Speaker 1: opposite wall was blank save for the map of mold
Speaker 1: and bubbles of air pockets under the paint. There was
Speaker 1: another door straight across the one they'd entered, that was
Speaker 1: now hanging by only one hinge. This one looked sturdier.
Speaker 1: Tilda strode over to it, testing the knob.
Speaker 2: Locked.
Speaker 1: This one would not be falling off like the other. Sheepishly,
Speaker 1: she half turned to Madison, muttering for him to back up.
Speaker 1: She steadied herself on the balls of her feet, taking
Speaker 1: a deep breath, and then rammed her shoulder into the door.
Speaker 1: The impact dazed her. She saw stars, giving her head
Speaker 1: a heavy shake. She braced herself and tried again. This time,
Speaker 1: she felt the wood give a little under her weight.
Speaker 1: Here we go, She hyped herself up third times. The
Speaker 1: charm ram then immediate bounce back. Nope. She rubbed her arm,
Speaker 1: the skin tingling, rolled her shoulders glared at the offending wood.
Speaker 1: This time the door splintered under her weight. Ouch, Tilda
Speaker 1: exclaimed softly, her hand coming up to creedle her arm.
Speaker 1: A crack ran down the middle of the pane of wood,
Speaker 1: splitting it nearly in two. Tilda kicked at the shards
Speaker 1: of wood, and they clattered to the floor. Gingerly, she
Speaker 1: reached her hand through the crack, careful not to impale
Speaker 1: herself on the gigantic wooden tooth left by her mal treatment,
Speaker 1: her fingers crawling up the wood on the opposite side
Speaker 1: like a giant spider until they closed around the lock,
Speaker 1: turning it the other way. The door jerked open with
Speaker 1: a puff of stale air. Madison coughed behind her. She
Speaker 1: shouldered open the door, thinking of the ones who had
Speaker 1: owned this store, who had cared for it, had newspapered
Speaker 1: it to discourage looting, who had locked it up carefully
Speaker 1: when the world was ending, when this station could offer
Speaker 1: them nothing more. The inside was quite bland, a rectangular
Speaker 1: room with rows and rows of cheap metal shelving. Most
Speaker 1: of them held nothing but dust, years of it. As
Speaker 1: a matter of fact. Tilda stalked down the first aisle,
Speaker 1: cataloging what little remained on the shelves, extension cords, a
Speaker 1: couple of tubes of pills, chapstick. At the end of
Speaker 1: the metal shelving was the checkout desk, Lottery tickets and
Speaker 1: cigarette packages displayed prominently overhead. Outside, Scout whinnied, scuffing her hoofs.
Speaker 1: Tilda crouched underneath the open counter that typically could be
Speaker 1: lifted and passed through, but now wooden budge. She re
Speaker 1: emerged behind the checkout counter. Apart from a thick layer
Speaker 1: of dust that muffled her footsteps, the tile was free
Speaker 1: of the debris she'd grown accustomed to seeing in these places.
Speaker 1: The cigar wrappers and empty pill canisters weren't there. The
Speaker 1: cash registered drawers were open and empty. Not that money
Speaker 1: would do her any good these days. Clippings of newspapers
Speaker 1: detailing the spread of HSV five headlines gradually increasing with panic,
Speaker 1: were laid out on the counter a morbid timeline. The
Speaker 1: last one was dated years before Tilda was born. It
Speaker 1: showed a picture of a harried looking man, hands raised
Speaker 1: against the flashing of cameras and a sign of defeat.
Speaker 1: The caption informed her he had been the last president
Speaker 1: of the United States before it dissolved, back when there
Speaker 1: was still the manpower to sustain that level of organization
Speaker 1: and bureaucracy. On a whim, she gathered the clippings in
Speaker 1: her hand. They were incredibly thin, like they could dissolve
Speaker 1: into dust at any minute, folded them up and slipped
Speaker 1: them into her backpack side pocket. She'd read them later.
Speaker 1: She rifled through the drawers, coming up with nothing. She
Speaker 1: bent down and pulled open the cabinets, but they were
Speaker 1: also empty, saved for some cleaning supplies. Pivoting on our heels,
Speaker 1: she opened the last set of cabinet doors, discovering a safe.
Speaker 1: Thinking it would bother her to never know what was
Speaker 1: in there, she reached out to test the handle she
Speaker 1: was certain would be locked, only to rock back on
Speaker 1: her heels when the handle gave as though she'd torn
Speaker 1: it free from the rust that had held it in place.
Speaker 1: Tilda wasn't sure if it had been unlocked, or if
Speaker 1: after years and years of dust, rust and genilla roding
Speaker 1: that comes with aging, she had broken the lock. Inside
Speaker 1: the safe was a stack of money, a thin chain
Speaker 1: necklace with a golden cross dangling at the end, and
Speaker 1: a gun with a box of bullets. Tilda took out
Speaker 1: the pile of money, knowing it was of no use
Speaker 1: to her now, but wanting to appreciate the novelty of it.
Speaker 1: She removed a bill it was at twenty and traced
Speaker 1: it with her fingers. Parts of the odd green paper raised.
Speaker 1: It depicted the Capitol building on one side, with bushes
Speaker 1: and trees out front, and on the other a man
Speaker 1: she didn't recognize. There was a phrase in Latin, she
Speaker 1: didn't understand it in another phrase, and god we trust
Speaker 1: that she didn't really understand either. This used to be
Speaker 1: worth something. People would buy things with. This would work
Speaker 1: jobs they hated for, this would kill for this. It
Speaker 1: was bizarre to her. In her hands, it felt like
Speaker 1: a useless piece of paper. What is that? Madison piped
Speaker 1: up behind her, badly, startling her so that she had
Speaker 1: to grab onto the cabinet door to keep her balance.
Speaker 1: It's money, what they used to use to buy things.
Speaker 1: She passed the bill to him, and he studied it deeply,
Speaker 1: trying to divine the meaning. Tilda flipped through the rest
Speaker 1: of the bills, almost wanting to pocket them, just knowing
Speaker 1: that at one time that stack of paper would have
Speaker 1: saved them. It would have gotten them food and water
Speaker 1: and shelter, But now it was just extra useless weight
Speaker 1: in her bag. Madison flipped over the bill, examining it
Speaker 1: critically this way and that, holding it up to the light,
Speaker 1: and asking Tilda about the phrases, about the pyramid with
Speaker 1: the eye at the top, about the man on the back.
Speaker 1: Til didn't know the answer to any of his questions.
Speaker 1: As she took out the gun, making sure the safety
Speaker 1: was on and the bullets. He asked, so, why was
Speaker 1: it worth twenty Tilda thought for a moment, the box
Speaker 1: of bullets in her hands, because people believed it did
Speaker 1: Mouce believed it and agreed on it. But it's not
Speaker 1: actually worth anything if you don't believe it. Now, I
Speaker 1: guess not, She grinned, slipping the gun in the waistband
Speaker 1: of her jeans, her skin recoiling at the cold metal,
Speaker 1: and the box of bullets in the side pocket. Maybe
Speaker 1: in a museum someday, if there ever were museums in
Speaker 1: the traditional sense. Again, now the entire world felt like
Speaker 1: an abandoned museum with no one to care for it.
Speaker 1: She closed the safe and odd sensation of sadness for
Speaker 1: the person who'd spent so much much of their life
Speaker 1: to save this money, who put it in a safe
Speaker 1: and guarded it with a gun, only to then leave
Speaker 1: it behind. Does all of the meaning it held fell away? Weird?
Speaker 1: Madison breathed, holding the bill out in front of him
Speaker 1: like some delicate antique. Tilda heaved herself up and padded
Speaker 1: Madison's head. I know, let's keep searching, okay. She swung
Speaker 1: herself under the countertop and continued her survey of the
Speaker 1: store of all its odd trinkets and knickknacks that Tilda
Speaker 1: both thought were incredibly cute relics and frustratingly useless. She
Speaker 1: half cursed past generations for taking up valuable shell space
Speaker 1: that could have been for canned and other non perishable
Speaker 1: food items and used it instead for snow globes with
Speaker 1: women in bikinis and who the skirts in them? Pieces
Speaker 1: of wood with trite phrases like I'd rather be at
Speaker 1: the beach. She passed in a collectic collection of keychains, headphones, earplugs,
Speaker 1: face mask, a collapsed shelf that had odd looking pillows.
Speaker 1: At the end of the row, opposite the checkout counter
Speaker 1: was the wall of refrigerated glass cases. Tilda swallowed dryly.
Speaker 1: The water, of course, was gone, as was much of
Speaker 1: everything else. There were a couple of Coca colas and
Speaker 1: some energy drinks, both of which were good for an
Speaker 1: energy boost and not much else. Nevertheless, Tilda pocketed two
Speaker 1: of each, hitching her backpack further up on her shoulders.
Speaker 1: The other aisles mostly had rotten cardboard boxes, empty of
Speaker 1: the candy bars and snacks he had once held. Look,
Speaker 1: Madison exclaimed, bouncing into a review with a handful of
Speaker 1: bags of chips clutched in each fist. Free does and
Speaker 1: barbecue lays. Good high mouse, she told him, singing her
Speaker 1: backpack over one shoulder and putting the bounty in the
Speaker 1: front pocket. He beamed at the praise. Where'd you find
Speaker 1: these in the back of the shelf, he pointed, very back.
Speaker 1: Tilda nodded, bending down to inspect the bottom shelf. She
Speaker 1: found a couple of bags of M and M's peanut
Speaker 1: and pretzel, a bag of cheese sets, some sunflower seeds
Speaker 1: and beef turkey, and a tiny jar of peanut butter.
Speaker 1: She checked the expiration date way past. But hey, pickers
Speaker 1: can't be choosers, she told herself, putting it in the
Speaker 1: bag that was getting steadily heavier. There were also bags
Speaker 1: of popcorn that they'd be unable to pop, a cup
Speaker 1: of noodles they'd be unable to heat up, and some
Speaker 1: cans of soup and raveolli, which if they got desperate
Speaker 1: they could eat cold. They also scavenged a couple of
Speaker 1: boxes of band aids and insets, some packets of trail mix.
Speaker 1: She would add them to her bag. And then her
Speaker 1: eyes landed on an enormous chug of water the kind
Speaker 1: used her water coolers till the guest that since it
Speaker 1: was too heavy to carry, had been left reluctantly. She
Speaker 1: stared at it like it was a religious icon. She
Speaker 1: could have fallen to her knees and prayed. Some she'd
Speaker 1: portion for Scout, or as much as she could drink.
Speaker 1: The rest she'd rebottle for them. Hey, Madison, go look
Speaker 1: around the store for empty bottles or bottles. We could
Speaker 1: pour out whatever's in there and put water in. He stood, transfixed,
Speaker 1: like catching the jug, causing the water's reflection to dance
Speaker 1: across his face. Tilda called his name again, and he
Speaker 1: snapped out of it, sprinting to the back of the store.
Speaker 1: She could hear him scuffling around the store, bottles clattering
Speaker 1: to the floor as she unlocked the front door and
Speaker 1: started shoving against it, bits of red rest dislodging and
Speaker 1: floating in the air. The metal squealed at an ear
Speaker 1: cringing pitch. Painfully slow. She eleven opened the door. Scout
Speaker 1: watched Tilda huffing and working away board. She wedged it
Speaker 1: open enough to wriggle out, awkwardly stepping the jug in
Speaker 1: front of her. Madison returned with a small collection of
Speaker 1: plastic bottles sliding easily between the gap. Okay, Tilda gasp
Speaker 1: grabbing a gray bucket from next to the empty shell
Speaker 1: of the ice machine and plunking it in front of her. Scout.
Speaker 1: She rested her hands on her knees for a second.
Speaker 1: Winded from her battle at the door, she struggled for
Speaker 1: a moment to twist the top off, until the plastic
Speaker 1: teeth finally gave and she spun the cap off. She
Speaker 1: studied the jug for a moment, knowing she'd be unable
Speaker 1: to lift it she'd have to tip it, but even
Speaker 1: then she'd have to be careful not to tip it
Speaker 1: and spill that most precious liquid all over the concrete. Mouse.
Speaker 1: We're going to tip some water into this bucket for Scout. Okay,
Speaker 1: can you tip the bucket toward me? Madison readily obeyed.
Speaker 1: Untilda knelt, shedding herself off her backpack and removing her
Speaker 1: gloves to get a better grip. She tested its weight
Speaker 1: at various points she could try and get a more
Speaker 1: secure handle on the jug. She braced herself, taking a
Speaker 1: position a little behind the jug, and asked ready. Madison nodded,
Speaker 1: and she tipped the jug carefully, using her knees to
Speaker 1: help prop it up. The water trickled at first, then
Speaker 1: poured into the bucket, Tilda's arm shaking a bit with
Speaker 1: the effort. Scout's ears perked with interest, and she bent
Speaker 1: her nose down closer to the bucket. When it was
Speaker 1: almost halfway full, Tilda pulled the jug back, liquid slashing
Speaker 1: around the plastic. Tilda collapse into a resting position on
Speaker 1: her hands, catching her breath. The second she'd stopped pouring,
Speaker 1: Scout had closed what little distance remained and started slurping
Speaker 1: up water. Madison looked on with jealousy. Warily, Tilda pushed
Speaker 1: herself to her knees and zipping her backpack and rummaging
Speaker 1: around for the empty water bottles. She lined them up
Speaker 1: along with the ones Madison found. This was going to
Speaker 1: be tricky, all right, she sighed heavily. Let's start with
Speaker 1: the bigger bottles you found. Almost before she'd finished speaking,
Speaker 1: Madison held out an empty Coca Cola bottle. Tilda, smile, Riley,
Speaker 1: I'm going to go slow, okay, I don't want to
Speaker 1: lose any more water than we have to. She tipped
Speaker 1: the lip of the jug, the amount of water, making
Speaker 1: it even more awkward to pour. Even though it was lighter,
Speaker 1: it was still too heavy to lift. But now the
Speaker 1: water level was lower, she had to get a higher
Speaker 1: angle to pour it out. She stood, anchoring her feet
Speaker 1: far apart, cheeks puffing with exertion as she lifted the
Speaker 1: jug just barely off the ground, her arms trembling with
Speaker 1: the effort it took control it. Water dribbled out into
Speaker 1: the bottle, clinking against the side agonizingly slow. As the
Speaker 1: jug gradually lightened, she was able to tip it more easily,
Speaker 1: water pouring into the bottle at a much steadier clip.
Speaker 1: The jug clunked back upright, Tilda allowing her arms to
Speaker 1: hang like overcooked noodles. She popped her neck, staring at
Speaker 1: the jug like it was her arched nemesis. Madison looked
Speaker 1: at her hopefully, waiting for her permission to take a sip.
Speaker 1: Wait till we're dunmouse, then you can have some. Once
Speaker 1: she'd regained some of her strength in her arms, they
Speaker 1: began again a meager assembly line of water bottles, getting filled.
Speaker 1: As the jug got lighter, the pouring got easier, which
Speaker 1: was good. Tilda doubted she had the strength to fill
Speaker 1: too many more water bottles. Scout had slowed, lapping water
Speaker 1: at a much more leisurely pace. After they filled the
Speaker 1: water bottles, there was still a bottom ring of water remaining.
Speaker 1: Tilda replaced all of the bottles, but the big one
Speaker 1: to be split between her and Madison. She retrieved a
Speaker 1: bag of sunflower seeds and m and ms to share
Speaker 1: as well. Wondering when they could find something for Scout
Speaker 1: to eat, she let Madison have the first crack at
Speaker 1: the water. He gulped it in the most controlled way.
Speaker 1: He could muster, Tildo imagined. She opened the bag of
Speaker 1: sunflower seeds, cupping a small handful and eating them one
Speaker 1: by one so she'd feel like she was eating more.
Speaker 1: The sky darkened as they ate and drank, Tilda considering
Speaker 1: their bounty. The jug of water almost seemed too good
Speaker 1: to be true, and a couple of snacks to boot,
Speaker 1: and the gun cold metal against her lower back. It
Speaker 1: had slipped lower down her waistband with all of her
Speaker 1: rustling with the water jug. Do you think the man's
Speaker 1: okay that we took a scout from, Madison asked, popping
Speaker 1: an orange eminem in his mouth. I think so. He
Speaker 1: looks like he could take care of himself, and the
Speaker 1: weather has gotten a lot better. Madison nodded, reluctantly, watching
Speaker 1: the horse. She'd finished with her bucket of water and
Speaker 1: was watching them with what Tilda anthropomorphized as contentment. Tilda
Speaker 1: leaned back on her hands with a swig of water,
Speaker 1: her lower back ached with carrying the pack and keeping
Speaker 1: the water jug steady. She glanced around the sky grumbled.
Speaker 1: Tilda didn't see any signs to indicate what row they
Speaker 1: were on. She stood and stretched her back, her shoulders,
Speaker 1: her legs, Madison munching on the remainder of the sunflower seeds.
Speaker 1: When he was finished, she gestured for him to hold
Speaker 1: out the water bottle they'd just emptied and filled it
Speaker 1: with what was left in the water jug, replacing the
Speaker 1: cap and putting it in her pack. She rolled the
Speaker 1: discarded jug into the gas station to hide somewhat any
Speaker 1: obvious signs that they'd come through here. Madison stood, dusting
Speaker 1: off his jeans, and they both looked down the road,
Speaker 1: expecting to find an answer or a clue as to
Speaker 1: what the future held for them. And that brings us
Speaker 1: to the end of this chapter. This was such a
Speaker 1: video game chapter, like when I was looking back over
Speaker 1: and I was like, you can tell I play video games,
Speaker 1: because it's very much like she opened to the store
Speaker 1: and found this item inside. Does mean yes, would you
Speaker 1: like to search the shells for snacks?
Speaker 2: Some way to do that interactively? Because I think that'd
Speaker 2: be funny. I mean, honestly, someone should get on it.
Speaker 2: I bet there is. It is interesting to see my past.
Speaker 2: I trying to work through the good for the mini conversation,
Speaker 2: because if you've heard my thoughts about the Last of
Speaker 2: Us and about Star Wars, even I've got some complicated
Speaker 2: relationships with that, But it's it's fascinating to me that
Speaker 2: in this chapter you're hearing Tilda try to parse out
Speaker 2: what is the best thing she can do, Like is
Speaker 2: it going back to this place that she doesn't trust
Speaker 2: with this person she doesn't trust, but maybe it will
Speaker 2: help with a new vaccine, or is it just protecting
Speaker 2: her kid and pretending she now heard it. So it's
Speaker 2: fascinating to me where I am now versus when I
Speaker 2: was writing this. But also some things are to come. Listeners,
Speaker 2: that is for sure.
Speaker 1: I do think it's fair to say I can't go
Speaker 1: into this whole argument I had with myself after I
Speaker 1: read this chapter again that there is a difference between
Speaker 1: a lot of the things I have a problem with
Speaker 1: and what happened here, which was sort of outright betrayal
Speaker 1: before before the call to come back came. But more
Speaker 1: to come and more to say, I shall believe it
Speaker 1: there I was always Listeners. I hope that you're enjoying
Speaker 1: this shout out all the shout outs to Christina who
Speaker 1: makes them happen. It's fun, it's fun for us, so
Speaker 1: hopefully you're enjoying it. If you have any theories or
Speaker 1: thoughts or suggestions for other things we could do like this,
Speaker 1: it has to be in the public domain, but if
Speaker 1: you have a suggestion let us know. You can email
Speaker 1: us Stepania mom Stuff at iHeartMedia dot com. You can
Speaker 1: find us on Twitter at mom Stuff podcast, or on
Speaker 1: Instagram and TikTok at stuff I've Never told you. We
Speaker 1: have a YouTube page and a tea public store and
Speaker 1: a book you can get wherever you get your books.
Speaker 1: Thanks Zowis too, our super produced Christine, our executive producer,
Speaker 1: My and your concurctor Joey. Thank you. Thanks to you
Speaker 1: for listening. Steffan never told you us direction of iHeart Radio.
Speaker 1: For more podcasts from my heart Radio, you can check
Speaker 1: out the heart Radio app Apple podcast, where you listen
Speaker 1: to your favorite shows,