Friday Flash: Long Way Home

Last week, Chuck Wendig solicited three-word titles from his readers (and I snitched one to use for my story). This week, he gave us his top ten titles to choose from. I used 996 words to write my version of "Long Way Home." Visit the comments on Chuck's blog post to find links to what others may have done with the same title.

Long Way Home

When I finally stopped running, I was in a tiny village in northern Saskatchewan, or maybe over the border into the Northwest Territories. I was filthy, wet, hungry, and down to my last three dollars.

On the other side of the balance, I’d lost my tail. My detour through the muskeg scraped off most of them, city men with city shoes. Since leaving the swamp, I’d hitched three different rides, in three different directions—I made sure to leave each one at a crossroads so there were at least some choices—and finally gotten a bush pilot to drop me in the middle of nowhere.

I’d stolen a pack from a pile of gear at the tiny airstrip. I felt bad for ruining someone’s vacation, but I blessed that unknown hiker as I ate his food and wrapped myself in his rain gear and sleeping bag. Too bad he didn’t have a tent, but at least he had a tarp I could rig to keep the rain off when I was forced to sleep.

I didn’t do a lot of sleeping in the two weeks it took me to walk from where the pilot dropped me to this town, whatever it was.

The pilot had taken some convincing. But he’d been the sort who would do anything for enough money, and fortunately I’d had enough. Just. That was why I was now stuck in this little place with no cash. I had a credit card, and an ATM card. If I used them, I’d have to start all over. I only kept them because it wouldn’t be safe to leave them anywhere, even cut into little pieces.

I’d run out of the hiker’s food three days short of town—bless his massive appetite; I’m sure he’d packed for a week, but I was able to make it last nearly two. I needed to stop, and I needed a shower, a laundry, and several meals.

I was looking for a church. I wasn’t a believer in anything beyond survival, not now. But I knew that a church was my best bet for a little help, and not too many questions asked.

The village was too small for a church. What I eventually found was the old man.

He was sitting outside his house on a round of unsplit firewood, soaking up the sun. The rain had stopped, and the place steamed. So did I, and the smell of my own steam was enough to make me choke. I’d already realized I wasn’t going to find a Laundromat and a three-star hotel in this village. All I could hope for was maybe a tub in someone’s house where I could wash myself and my clothes.

I was a little scared to approach the old man, but I was desperate. He was native, I could see that, and I wondered if he’d even speak English. This place was isolated, and I could imagine everyone speaking Inuit or whatever it was they spoke up here. Wherever “here” was.

I was still waffling about asking him where I might beg a bath and a meal, when he spoke to me.

“You need a place to rest. You have come a long way.”

I nodded, and he stood up and held open his front door. I stepped inside, not even pausing to wonder if it was safe. It was too late for that.

Inside, he pointed to another door. “Wash. I will prepare food.”

I was in the tub—he must have had propane to heat the water, the glorious hot water—up to my neck before I wondered how he knew what I needed, and why he was helping me without asking a single question. I shrugged it off. I was obviously wet and dirty, so the bath was a no-brainer. And it was lunch time.

When I was clean, I dumped my clothes in the tub, and dug a set of over-sized long underwear out of the pack. I’d only worn them a couple of times, and they passed the sniff test. I had to rinse the rest three times before I could squeeze out fairly clear water. I got as much water as I could out of them, and bundled them into a bucket that stood in the corner of the bathroom. Emerging back into the kitchen, I nearly fainted at the smell of frying bacon and eggs.

The old man saw what I carried, and nodded. “There is a line behind the cabin, and a wringer.”

When I got around behind the cabin I found the line, and a gizmo like I’d seen in some mop buckets. After a little fussing, I figured out how to feed my clothes between the rollers, and they came out a lot drier.

The old man fed me for three days before he asked a single question beyond, “are you hungry?” He didn’t let his neighbors at me, either. But when he did at last ask a question, it was a doozy.

We’d just finished breakfast on the third day. He laid down his fork and said, “Are you ready to be home?”

“It’s a long way home,” I answered evasively, knowing there was no going home for me.

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe you need to listen more carefully.”

I thought that over, and tried to remember exactly what he’d said. Not “are you ready to go home?” but “are you ready to be home.” I’d taken it for a poor grammar, though he spoke the language well enough. It seemed he’d chosen his words with care.

“Stop running, Ilsa. You’re home.”

I was confused. That wasn’t my name. Then the meaning of what he was offering swept over me. This place was so far off the grid they would never find me, and he was giving me an identity. All I had to do was nod my head, and my flight had merely been the long way home.

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©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2017
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Middle Grade Monday: Treasure, by S. Smith

 

Title: Treasure (Seed Savers #1)

Author: S. Smith

Published: 2012, 221 pages

Source: I either purchase the 3-volume Seed Savers set or picked it up on a free day. Naturally, I can't recall because it sat on my Kindle for months before I read it. It is only right to disclose that the author and I are both members of the "BookElves" group, but my review is in any case my honest opinion.

Publisher's Summary:

It’s 2077. There’s no apocalypse, but some things are different. Things like the weather, the internet, and food. In twelve-year-old Clare’s world, blueberry is just a flavor and apples are found only in fairy tales.

Then one day Clare meets an old woman who teaches her about seeds and real food. The woman (Ana) tempts Clare with the notion that food exists other than the square, processed, packaged food she has always known. Under Ana’s tutelage, Clare and her friends learn about seeds and gardening despite suspicions that such actions are illegal.

When the authorities discover the children’s forbidden tomato plant and arrest their mother, Clare and her brother flee. Clare has heard of a place called "The Garden State," and with their bikes, a little money, and backpacks, the children begin a lonely cross-country journey that tests them both physically and spiritually. Will they succeed in their quest to find a place of food freedom?  And can they, only children, help change the world?

Treasure is a gentle dystopian, frightening only in the possibility that we may not be far from the future it paints.   

My Review:

The entire concept of the Seed Savers series is a bit chilling, primarily because, as the publisher's blurb states, it paints a future we can easily see coming our way. But the story itself is not edge-of-the-seat frightening, and would be suitable for most children of 9-12. Clare is a likable heroine, and if she and her little brother get along a bit unbelievably well, they have good reason to stick together, especially once they are on the run. 

I found the beginning of the story a little slow. It takes time for Clare, Dante and their friend Lily to learn about the whole idea of seeds and growing plants, which is understandable, but the story might do better to move more quickly through this. For me, the story takes hold when the food police (as it were) arrest Clare & Dante's mother and the kids flee. Their view of the world has been pretty circumscribed, not just with regard to food, and we see them growing and expanding as their world does. I can't help liking that they make their escape to Canada by bicycle, nor do I miss that the heavy guard the border carries is to keep people IN the US, not out.

One thing which made me a little uncomfortable was the use of religion in the story. I kind of get it, but it doesn't seem necessary to have them be religious, nor does it seem necessary to the story to focus so on prayer and scripture (well, maybe the latter makes some sense, because it is partly the Bible's agrarian roots that sabotage the efforts to make everyone forget where food comes from; this works because while the government controls science education, they have apparently chosen to leave religion alone, a plausible development in today's world). I might like to see a more overt consideration of the implications of religion, not as a means for the children to pray and make things okay, but as something which seems to be simultaneously a controlling tool of the government--and the source of the rebellion. That might be asking a bit much of a children's book, though!

Recommendation:

This book and its premise are (pardon me) food for thought that everyone should consider. Those whose children are not Christian may need to talk about the religious aspects, but that doesn't seem so bad either (everyone should be willing to read about people of other religions). And everyone, of whatever age, would do well to ask themselves where their food comes from--and in the case of the vast bulk of processed foods in our stores, what it might be made of.  
Full Disclosure: I purchased the Seed Saver boxed set on a sale or free day, of my own will and desire, and received nothing from the writer or publisher in exchange for my honest review.  The opinions expressed are my own and those of no one else.  I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."  

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