RECORDING MOMENTS IN TIME

We know so little about each other and even less about our galaxy, the Milky Way. A system filled with stars, gas, dust, dark matter, and...

Brett started, “Where did you two meet?” “We met amid anarchy. We watched public education falter, a deteriorating climate, collapsing...

…the note now crumpled is still haunting me. I pulled it out and read, “Mr. Jesse Tucker, I know who you are; I know where you are; I...

I am not sure how long I sat, drooling, perched in the corner. For most of the night restless, I slept poorly until finally jolted awake,...

Some visitors are new, first timers, some are regulars. They enter the first gate, agree to the presented terms, and then step through...

The note and the recent threat at the gate are still at the forefront of my thoughts. I need a distraction. Time to pull Scout Team 3 together to venture outside. We need to step up, otherwise Well members will, or could, actively protest. My recent ill-advised adventure at the Barrio resulted in success despite my actions. Addison, the team is always a step ahead of me. Saving me. The value of the Scout Teams questioned. Time to meet with the team, which now often included D

A line forms at the front gate every morning. Mr. Maddox and his security team put safety measures in place to keep everyone inside safe. There are two gates at the entrance, plus guards, backup guards, and procedures. Walls of cactus all about. Everyone’s just trying to save their own skin. There are a few safe places beyond the fence. Inside, we’ve kept it together, mostly. The committee dealt with the troublemakers swiftly. We’ve hit our limit as a community, and there’s a

Watch as the wagon, our livestock, extra harnesses, miscellaneous junk, and concealed cash recede from my view into the darkness. The immediate challenges are to stay dry, keep out of sight, out of the wind, and find boots. And plot our next steps. Where are Frank and Addison? Likely sitting around a table, enjoying a warm meal. The other members of the crew? Settling in for the night? What happens if they inadvertently encounter the wagon and the thieves? What about tomorr

Getting late, as I struggle to move forward under the ever-present heat. Legs feel heavy, and each breath is an effort. A sense of overwhelming sadness carries me along. Rain clouds lit by lightning brighten our way; Mother Nature displaying her power and her disregard for humanity. The smell of rain in the air as we walk along the south-side of Main Street. With most businesses closed, vagrants now fill the doorways. Every city, large or small, is a heat island, isolated. At

Eyes forward, we moved onward; the village was quiet. Quiet enough to wander freely, although folks are watching and judging. We hope to get a warm welcome, but that won’t last. Hope is a sign of weakness . A character flaw. The teacher in me recalled the end of the 20th century; society hoped climate change was a phase. That technology would save us. Equality was possible. There is always a silver lining. That people are basically good, and the Star Trek ideology of the late

We were up early, preparing for what could be our last day among the living. The rain was moving in, returning with a vengeance, the wind increasing, and cold. The air was heavy, the atmosphere a gloomy gray. Unsure whether the weather would work to our advantage. Frank and I prepared the wagon. Gathered a few items: two bridles, a blanket, a used saddle, and scraps. We headed out, covered in ponchos, looking like two worn-out travelers seeking shelter with few worldly posses

“Barrio Hollywood,” I said. “You mean where we ran from, leaving our mark in Concreteville?” Frank asked. “Actually, it’s beyond that, in the valley.” “What happened to keeping a low profile?” Brett asked. “Decision time. I’ve been running for several years, and at every turn, others have scripted my future. The committee, fate itself — both have dictated my tomorrows.” “So,” Cord added, “is there a plan?” “Scout teams have been visiting all around this region, losing team me

Days passed — praying , a word rarely heard anymore — while the committee seemed to have forgotten us. We ate and chatted idly, averting our gazes and sidestepping personal topics, failing to meet the committee’s expectations. The committee, whose members were unknown, became restless. Recently , they reminded us we were expendable, and that we had to perform or flee. Then again, there were few standing in line, wanting to replace us. Within the Well , children worshiped us,

The following day demanded confronting a hard truth. They will not leave this unaddressed. Everyone walked away, no bodies left behind, no harm, still if only I could walk this all back. Never my intention to involve others, I saw they were all gathered around the table engaged in a robust conversation until I approached, embarrassed. I’d squashed the mood. Why did they follow me, and how did they know? Best guess Addison. Is she an insider, a spy, or does she work for the co

What was he thinking? Jesse, educated and creative, once a teacher by trade, recently a kitchen helper, now leads our Scout Team. Average-looking — five foot ten, brown hair and brown eyes — physically fit. Capable of reasoned thinking. Mostly. A southpaw — left-handed and proud of it. Independent, a bit of a loner. Occasionally, I wondered if he had a death wish. Thoughts concealed. Moody, as if carrying a weight, a sadness and, like all of us, a history unwilling to share.

A voice from behind, both unsteady and unexpected, babbled, “Tu… turn around slowly… and keep… your hands in view.” I froze, took a second to catch my breath, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Minding my own business, a stranger. Feeling dizzy, shoulders tightening, jaw clenched, come on, keep breathing, steady. Could see the server headed to my table, food in hand, stopped, now watching the scenario play out. Her eyes transfixed on the weapon aimed at my back,

No one was currently about; the stable was empty, all chores completed for the evening, workers headed homeward, dinner with ‘family’ or consumed alone, and then preparing for the dark. My mount prepped as requested. The coast was clear, the sun setting. Time to saddle up. Think incognito. Low profile. Decamping through the north gate, but circled around to the south side, then headed east along an aging roadway. The valley below was already fading into the shadows. Thirty mi

They saw us coming. Slowly approaching. Midday, hot, most hunkered down, the heat today unbearable, triple digits. But still a waiting entourage, someone from the roof yelled, “he’s bringing people.” Interest piqued, there was a procedure for adding to the population… strict rules. Pulling into the yard, the Scout Team surrounded the wagon, holding back the audience. Brett stood ready to protect his cargo. Approaching the wagon, one of the committee leaders appeared, distrau

We were slowly toasting in the sun while we waited, sweat running into eyes, down our backs, the air stifling, the sun relentless. The two groups were now arriving at the same time. One from the north, the other from the west, each group wary. If there had been a misstep, I feared the whole gathering would have erupted into chaos. With a nod, “My name is Luke, the… quasi-leader of this small group currently hiding east of here, give or take a mile. I must admit, surprised you

Woke, pulling the covers over my head, seeking refuge from the blazing sun. Alone. Last night’s guest, gone. Voices — a few — filtered through the adjacent compartments. No electronics, no notifications, no beeps interrupting the silence, no vehicles or aircraft polluting the air. Just a disturbing quiet. The technology that once kept us constant company, now artifacts of a failed past. The news, the talking heads, the self-appointed geniuses — always assuring us the next sol