Well 3 by Rice Rachel E

Author:Rice, Rachel E.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, dystopian future, fiction action adventure, apolacalypse, dystopia climate change, dystopia series, dystopia science fiction, dystopian apocalyptic, dystopian young adult fiction
Publisher: Rachel E. Rice

6

We rode the bike going at seventy-miles an hour, on into the night into the next day, stopping only for a restroom break. Sheila exhausted kept riding, all I could do to keep her awake was talk to her, and kiss her neck to let her know that she was safe with me. Finally she stopped the bike when she couldn’t go any further. She was spent. I hopped off knowing that it was tiring to have to do what she was doing. So we slept on the ground close to each other and to the bike.

***

We hadn’t slept but a few hours. I didn’t want to wake her but I had to wake her. I kneeled and kissed her cheek. Her eyes opened and she greeted me with a warm smile. “There’s only a few more miles to go. We can do this,” I said looking down on her. I paused to marvel at how beautiful she looked after sleeping.

“I can’t,” she said with a moan. “Leave me. I can’t go on. I’m tired I’m no use to you.”

My glance swung to her. “Why would I leave you? You are everything to me.”

“Because my father said that I have to be of some use in times like these or I should be discarded.”

Horrified by her statement, I knelt beside her and held her in my arms. “As long as you are alive, and I can see your pretty face, and talk to you, that is enough for me. I will never leave you.”

Her eyes swung up staring in my eyes and the corner of her mouth lifted and she smiled. I held her close. And she fell back into a deep restful sleep. I had pushed her too far and too long. She didn’t have the stamina I had. I let her rest.

The next day we woke to a blast of sunlight. The air was cleaner. There was no swirling dust or lightning strikes. I looked around and no longer did I see houses scattered and dotting the landscape every hundred miles. The buildings lay in clusters like the honeycombs of bees.

My father taught me about bees, and how they gathered pollen and nectar and pollinated flowers, and that they were instrumental in the growth of flowering plants, which once fed us. He showed me a honeycomb that had once housed thousands of bees. And when the bees began to die they deserted their homes. These homes built for men by men looked deserted.

Before us stood huge structures miles up into the bleak unforgiving sky. “This is amazing. It’s a city. I’ve never seen a city,” I said to Sheila. My gaze swung to her propping herself on the bike.

“It’s wonderful,” she said looking to me. “Isn’t it?”

I held her as if we were two lovers gazing into the sunset on a wonderful beach. The kind of picture I had seen in magazines when teens were being teens. But our reality was a grim reminder that we couldn’t afford to dream and be the frivolous teens we imagined.

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