After Earth - Necessities

I feel a gentle nudge on my shoulder. As I roll over, I see the fox looking down at me with a dry snout and dimly lit eyes. I close my journal and return it to my pack. While in there, I rummage around and create a mental checklist of my remaining food. A can and a half of tuna. Check. Six slices of bread. Check. Half a canteen of rain water. It will have to do. Meanwhile, I have this damn fox begging me for breakfast.

I spent most of yesterday trying to shoo the thing away. I should never have fed it in that abandoned pub, but I didn’t know at the time whether it would be hostile or harmless. Now I know that it’s just using me. That part of me knows how frustrating the fox is; yet, a part of me also welcomes the companionship. It’s so quiet all around me and I prefer not to be stuck to the thoughts racing in my head. I feel like I could whistle and the fox would come running to me like an old dog I’ve grown up with. As of this morning, I’ve chosen to accept this furry fellow as my travel buddy. I can’t get myself to name it since that would be too much of a commitment.

My stomach alerts me with an empty growl that pushes inward. I pinch out a quarter tin of tuna and lather it on a slice of bread with my finger before tossing the tin towards the fox. It seems to enjoy the tasteless fish with three quick licks and a smack of the lips.

Looking down at the meager can of tuna remaining, I realize that today is better spent searching for food and water rather than travelling. Frankly, I shouldn’t have waited this long. After packing up my sleeping bag and grabbing the rifle resting on the tree trunk, the fox and I make our way toward a rock face in the distance. My hope is that something edible has found shelter in a cave or under some rocks.

The sun rises and the temperature, once again, chooses to skyrocket, forcing me to stop and shed my layers. By the time I reach the bottom of the rocky slope upward, the ashen clouds floating in the sky begin spitting. I’ve perfected a creative technique to catch the rainwater for drinking. By that, I mean that I hold my canteen out in front of me while I walk hoping for enough drops to land inside and fill up.

One of the few fortunate outcomes of the current world’s indecisive weather patterns is that when it rains, it pours. These rain drops are like some genetically altered mutant created by a cloud-dwelling mad scientist. As a result, it doesn’t take long before my canteen is full and my clothes are drenched. I’ve accepted the loss of this comfort because another heat wave is expected and my clothes can dry under the sweltering sun. Plus, my body is typically so dry that it absorbs the mega rain like a gleeful sponge. My fox friend doesn’t seem to mind either.

I make sure to take my time scaling the rocky hill since it is rather slick. It isn’t very steep, however I can not afford to slip and injure myself. I have very little medical experience and I’m pretty sure the fox is no doctor. Once I reach the top, I take a moment to sit against a mossy boulder and regain my breath. The rain continues to slap down, so I make sure to fill my stomach with all the water it can hold before refilling the canteen. I look over my shoulder to check on the fox and see that it has found a puddle to lap up.

After a few moments, the rain slows to a drizzle and the visibility opens up the desolate landscape. In the distance, to my right, I can make out the grouping of trees I slept under last night. They enjoyed the rain more when they were alive and could produce vegetation. To the left, I see a series of bent metal towers that once held power lines. The towers have been without power for nearly a decade. Now, they are nothing more than piles of jagged metal covered in rust. Several have tumbled over like giant dominos. Between the trees and towers lies the road that guides me South. Before navigating back down that quiet road, I have to find some food. The short climb only made me more hungry.