Dying World

The engine was growling. The sound likened to the voice of an angry beast of some sort. He glanced at the jury-rigged dials in front of him. The engine heat was starting to edge into the red.  Overheating, not dangerous yet but there was still fifty miles or more to the next safe stop. He grimaced and raised his eyes back to the windshield. Looking through the dirty armored glass to the world beyond all he saw was: A dry, sun baked, seared surface stretching away as far as the eye could see, a flat land fading away until it was lost in the heat and the dust of a dying world. Behind him lay the same flat, featureless plain. Nothing like trees to be seen anywhere, nothing green or living. A dark mass to the south, moving to the east caught his eye. He shuddered and hoped it was nothing more sinister than a dust storm. Please, he thought, just be a dust storm.



It had to be a dust cloud. No rain had fallen in this place for fifty years or more. He was, he reckoned, in his thirties. But like most others he was just guessing. It seemed that in these twilight days no on much cared to keep track of the passing of time anymore. Survival was paramount. But he was certain of one thing: In all his years he could not remember it ever raining. For him and his generation a lake was a myth, a river a fable. Seas probably still existed and he had about the Great Lakes, but he had never seen either and wondered about the truth of such fantastic stories as bodies of water so vast you could not see the other shore. He did not know what he would do if ever confronted with so much water. Probably just stare at it like an idiot.



This had once been a world of vibrant colors and of living things. The stories his mother had told him of animals now found only in the far north that had once shared this land with humans. He thought that even his mother had likely never seen a Giraffe or a Wolf but he could not be certain. He had never seen either himself. Now you were lucky to encounter anything other than snakes, armadillos -- desert life that and even that was rare and seemed to be disappearing into history along with wolves and giraffes.

Nowadays there were other more horrifying things wandering the world.



He downshifted to a lower gear. For a brief moment the engine growled threatening, the growl rising in pitch to a shrill whine before descending once again. It could not be helped. If the transport overheated then it would quit. The supplies so desperately needed by a city about to come under siege would never arrive. They would do him no good out here in the wastes. The credits waiting for him would go to someone else instead. That is if anyone else would dare to make the run. Would be desperate enough to even try.



Nah, he thought wryly, no one besides me would be stupid enough to attempt this run. No one else is desperate enough.



It was late in the year now. Sandstorms were now the norm during this time of the year. Something called snow and cold had once been prevalent during the season. Now it was just heat, blistering , wasting heat and the endless cerulean sky.  So clear, so sharp you felt it could cut you. The sun a glaring, angry yellow eye.



He glanced again at the gauges. The temp had dropped just slightly below the red line now. Doing better I should make it.



Outside the temp was 98 Fahrenheit, warm for this time of year but not too bad. It had been worse. Would have been worse if it was the summer. But then again no one ever made war in the summertime, it was just too damned hot.