Chapter One - Home Isn't A Place I Know.
Heat. The kind of heat you could choke on if you breathed the wrong way. Same as every morning, the thick Arizona air welcomed me as I woke. I never slept well, aside from the packed straw mattress I slept on, dreams of a once-known world haunted me. I peeled my eyes open one at a time, squinting at the blinding sun streaming through our shabby home's windows.
Propping myself up on one elbow, I swept our dirty canvas curtains out of the way to peer outside, the world is not what it used to be. Even for the previously desertous Phoenix landscape, it's an evermore barren version of the town I once knew. The memory had gone hazy but, I recalled cacti that used to litter the land, lakes and greenery were sparse yet common enough to notice once it was gone. It'd been 10 years since everything changed. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and peeled myself off the stiff mattress, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I rarely recalled the old world, since our new normal wasn't new at all anymore but, today I reflected.
Using humor as a coping mechanism, many coined "Cybergeddon" as a bittersweet term for it, in reality, the loss of electronics was the least of our worries. Climate change was an inevitable issue for humanity, we just didn't realize how soon it would come for us. It started with the worst solar storm the world had ever seen, rendering electronics effectively useless worldwide. If this wasn't enough of an issue, America, as hotheaded as they were, assumed Russia had caused this while Russia blamed it on America. A war ensued, but with all of the tech developments over the years greatly obsolete, they had to resort to more… vintage methods of war. And once that was over, and both sides had thoroughly demolished any semblance of normalcy in the modern world, we were left with this. And this, with all things considered, wasn't so bad.
Walking out of our house, made of a repurposed and thoroughly rusted old shipping crate, I couldn't help but smile at the scene ahead of me. Our community was as alive as ever with folks of all ages enjoying each others company, keeping entertained in the few ways we could. Our leaders wanted to keep the history of what Phoenix was alive. In this vein, our 'houses' were painted bright colours, many with murals of cacti and landmarks from the old city that I don't remember anymore. These structures were made from all sorts of recycled materials, these days "reduce, reuse, recycle" wasn't just a slogan that most people brushed off, it was the only way of life we could follow to sustain what little was left.
This community was all I knew for the last 10 years, and all I thought I'd ever need. The only threat we'd ever known, other than the oppressive Arizona heat, was nomads passing through. They tended to be looters, and our people would just step aside, and let them take what they wanted, but sometimes they'd be kind, and show us something new to enhance our life. Today we indulged in one of those inherited traditions; Birthdays.
"Happy Birthday, Bella!" A cheerful voice called, drawing me from reflecting on the last few years. I turned swiftly on my heels, a bold move for someone as clumsy as I am but luck was on my side, I only stumbled back slightly, scuffing my already tattered ankle high canvas sneakers, their brand long since worn off. My mother, who was now bounding toward me, arms extended, once told me she used to call these shoes "Conversations", or something like that.
"Thu-" I choked out as she crashed into me in her usual reckless embrace, I took a moment to collect myself before continuing "Thanks, Mom." I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, she always loved any reason to celebrate, even if it was to my chagrin. My mother, Renee, was brighter than the sun in our community, always seeing the positive side in things, and even after we'd all lost track of the proper months, she did her best to remember my birthday. She says it was the 13th of September, we don't keep track of exact dates anymore but, we know when winter is about to rear its ugly head, and a bit before is when we think September was.
She pulled back, grinning almost literally ear to ear, holding my shoulders as she beamed. I peeked behind her at the sound of footsteps, being greeted with her husband, Phil. My father, Charlie, and Renee left each other early in my life, and through this ordeal she found new love. I wished I could say the same for my father, seeing them so happy made me wonder how he was doing, if he was even still around…
My melancholy was put on hold as she pushed me towards a circle of familiar faces, they'd sooner be called siblings than friends with how long we'd all lived together.
The group chimed their birthday wishes at me as I approached, using various nicknames I'd accumulated over the years, like "Bells" and, to my distaste "Belly". On the table was a sweet potato cake with a small piece of wood stuck into it. The nomads called these "candles" on a "birthday cake".
"You gotta make a wish!" My best friend Angela called, nearly bouncing out of her seat as her brother lit the stick on fire, "Blow it out before it burns the cake!" her warning was fair, in the Arizona heat the stick burned quickly. I leaned over and sucked in a heavy breath, thinking the only wish I cared for.
I wish for my family and friends to be safe forever. I wished, and blew the flame out.