the poison-yellow road

The woman was dying when T0T0 found her. Shaking limbs and strained breaths were a clear enough sign of poison-induced death; it wouldn’t be long now. I hung back, shielded by the rusted-out shell of a long-forgotten car, and studied the area for signs of a trap. Could be a fake-out, with companions at the ready to jump out from behind the broken-down bridge. 

But when I ran another search on T0T0, the device beeped feebly with its results clear through the cracked screen. Only two life-forms registered: myself and the dying woman.

I have never made it my business to comfort the dying. Still, it was only prudent to check the woman for supplies. Not like there were treasure-trove stashes to be found along the road anymore. But I wasn’t going to abandon common sense in the process--before anything else, I raised my hand to the back of my head and ensured the straps of my mask were too tight to be pulled off in a sudden attack or a struggle. Reassured, I tucked T0T0 into my front pocket and hefted my bag.

The woman wheezed with surprise as I stepped out. Still conscious, then. I almost turned back, except she wasn’t moving to defend herself. The best she could manage was the warning to Stay back! when I was barely three feet away. 

I tensed and held up my empty hands. “Don’t mean you harm.” 

She sucked in another rattling breath, considering. The mask over her mouth enhanced the sound of her sudden coughing fit. I almost changed my mind until she lifted a hand to push the mask back and wipe the spittle from her lips. No one risked removing their masks out here, not unless it was already too late.

I closed the gap between us and hovered over her uncertainly. So close, I could see the crack that crossed her eyepiece, the hole in the air filter that rendered the mask useless. Her pack was beneath her, a cushion between her and the hard concrete barrier. I couldn’t take it from her unless -

“You’ll have to move me.” 

I shied back. “What?” 

Her laugh was as hoarse as her cough. “My pack -- you’ll have to... move me if you want it.”  

“Don’t want your pack.” 

She coughed again. “So twas your... good nature that led you to comfort a... dying woman?” 

I said nothing. 

“Well, go on. Take it. Got no... use for it now. Not now.” 

And I could tell: she wouldn’t put up a fight if I tried to take it. Didn’t have the strength to fight me, anyway. But something held me back. All I could do was watch her with uneasy eyes.

“Well,” she sighed at last. “You got a name?” 

There was no harm in talking to her, not if she was dying. “Dot.” 

“Dot,” she said, and nodded. Another cough wracked her body. When she finished, I could hear the wind whistling through the rusted-out car. “Call me Glen.” 

We watched each other, both waiting for the inevitable. At last, Glen spoke again, “You heading somewhere, Dot?” 

“Nope.” The silence was heavy and I continued, “Nowhere to go.” 

“Always somewhere to go.” She twisted her head, breaths riddled with the pain of movement. “Always travel toward something. That’s my goal.” 

“What... where were you going?” 

She didn’t answer right away, just shifted her head again. “Tell you what, Dot,” she said, “Take my mask off and I’ll tell you.” 

“But that’ll -”

“Kill me? Already dead, kid. Come on, dying wish.” 

And so I closed the gap between us and dropped to my knees at her side. So close, I could see the damp of her clothes; if it weren’t for my mask’s air filter, I could have smelled the sweat. Her breaths were terrifyingly loud. Biting my lip, I loosened each strap before pulling the plastic shield away. 

She was middle-aged, not much younger than Aunty Em had been. Her skin was pale and sagging around her milky brown eyes. Her lips and the skin about her nose were tinted yellow from breathing in the poison. I dropped the mask when I saw the tell-tale colouring. 

“That bad?” Glen quipped. “Would have thought I’d aged well, considering.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

She snorted. “Not your doing.” Her head tipped back and I wondered whether she’d passed, just like that, but her eyes were still flickering. She was watching the clouds. One of her hands fumbled until it found mine. Her breaths were tighter now, the poison coating her airpipes and the lining of her lungs. “The sky used to be blue,” she whispered vaguely, and then rolled her head to stare at me once more. “Oz,” she said, pushing the words out with the last of her breath, “The road leads... to Oz. That’s... where I was going.” 

I squeezed her hand. “What’s in Oz?” A safehouse, I imagined, with proper ventilation and perhaps a working water system. A place where survivors could gather and commiserate. A place like the home Aunty Em and I had been forced to leave when the pipes sprung a leak and tainted the water. 

“Settlement. Underground. Safe there.” 

“A whole settlement?” But those were myths, comforts to any travelling through the waste.

She clutched my hand tight. “Follow the road... west. Find... Oz.” 

“Have you been there before?” 

But her head tipped back again and her hand loosened in mine. Her last breath faded and no more followed. 

I pulled back, rose to my feet, and was about to flee entirely when I remembered the pack. Awkwardly, I gripped her shoulder and pulled her forward, trying not to fixate on the dead weight. I tugged the pack out from under her and swung it up onto my shoulder, and then paused again. 

When I finally hit the road, I had new boots on and a destination in mind for the first time since Aunty Em’s passing. The pavement was cracked and stained yellow from the poisoned air, but it led towards the hazy gleam of the setting sun. I pulled T0T0 from my pocket and ran another search. One life-form only: myself. 

I set my shoulders, lifted my chin, and started westward. Off to find Oz.