The Summary of Human Existence (Chapter 6)

# Chapter Six

Ruth

Jones tells me that this is Camp Fortitude, and it is, apparently, the third largest Refugee Camp in the world. Which surprises me. There’s a world in this field of despair and destruction?

He tells me that he is the leader of the camp. He says that they have ‘connections’. That I am welcome here.

I told him he had no right to go snooping on me.

He replied that he did.

Whatever. He didn’t know what it was like there.

I wasn’t there when the war ended, and the world went silent at first. After all, it was fifty-three years ago. My parents did though. They don’t talk about it. I do know what it’s like, of course. I know what it used to be like. We needed vacuumed shut greenhouses to keep out the poisoned air to grow food, while before, you could grow anything at all. Normal procedures doubled in difficulty, and leaders had their voices stripped from them. You wore masks outside, though my parents tell me you used to have to cover your entire head.

Amidst the chaos of the city of celebrities, a voice rose above. His voice belonged to the name of James Nelson, and the name belonged to the megalomaniac man who was L.A’s president in a month’s time. We were that desperate. To have someone to tell us what to do, that we were listening to anyone that spoke.

Len’s Mamá, who was my Mamá ’s sister, was killed during a mass looting. Her Papá disappeared when he went to the newfound president of L.A about it. When I was an infant, I lived in a home, like everyone else, but when the Red Plague hit, and my family being poor and rebel-lived, we were sent to an institution to live.

I don't know how I survived.

Everyone was dropping deader than a nuclear bomb.

Hah.

I’m in a cabin with two other girls. They’re both older than me. The first is 16, slender and green-eyed. She names herself Iris. She is proudly from Santa Fe, New Mexico. The second is a sturdy 18 year old, by the name of Eveyln. Eveyln is from some small town called Jerome, Arizona.

That’s what they told me in the first two minutes of meeting me. Then they asked me my name, age, and origin. I didn’t feel like telling them, but they said, “Everyone knows everyone here. And we’ve heard some things about you, too. You should probably go ahead and tell.”

Sighing, I had replied, “Fine. My name’s Ruth. I’m fourteen years old, and I come from L.A, California. Happy?”

They jumped up and down, ecstatic for some reason, and raced out the door calling my name. I refused to follow them, though, and lay on my bed. It’s a bunk, by the way. Wooden, and dressed up in cotton sheets. How they had cotton sheets, I didn’t know.

A cow bell rang about ten minutes ago. Jones said that was the cue for Dinner. I only ignored and rolled over in my bed, falling asleep.

I’m still sleeping when the door bangs open and Iris’s annoyingly cheerful voice speaks, “Ruth! Ruth, get up! It’s time for dinner!”

I groan in reply.

“Ruth, come on. You’ll regret it later.” She didn’t sound so cheerful this time. I decided to get up,  rubbing my eyes in mock exasperation as I did so.

“Oh, Ruth, let’s not fight. Look, I brought a friend!” She steppes aside, and motions to a blond girl behind her. There was something bright yet dark about her; something about the glint in her brown eyes. The girl waved at me, smiling shyly. “Hello. I’m Lynna. Lynna Jones.”

I cross my arms. “Jones’s kid?”

“Yeah.” She smirks. “Whose kid are you?”

I try not to smile. “No one knows.”

Iris opens the door, bouncing on her feet. “Time to eat!” She reminds us all once again. Lynna glances at me, then walks out. Sighing, I follow her. I was so not in the mood for this. But whatever. At least I got to eat.

We walk up the streets that were made of wood, passing cabins that matched mine. We saw no one until we mount a large hill near a clear lake. I found myself asking, confused. “How do you have a lake? The radiation ruined all water sources.”

Lynna was the one that replied. “It’s man-made. We got water from wells. Apparently, the water in the ground is good. It’s called Lake Seraphina, after the first person to die here.”

“How many people have died here?”

Neither Lynna or Iris answers this question, which I found quite rude. It was a valid question. Anyway, the hill was littered with campfires, tables, wells, and kids and adults alike. Lynna marched up to an old lady by a huge stewpot and a wooden slab ladened with bowls, spoons, bread, and other simple food.

I’d never seen so much food since I was seven.

I tried not to drool as Lynna greetes the lady and got a bowl of stew for the both of us. I could feel the heat of the food steaming through the wooden bowl. Lynna hands me a spoon, a piece of bread, then pointed to the rest of the food. “You can pick one thing.”

“Only one?” I tried not to whine.

“Yes. We have to save food.” She replies, picking up an apple. “I suggest the apples. They're the tastiest.”

I nodded, and grabbed a shiny green one. When I looked up, she’d already started walking away to a shady spot next to the lake. I quickly follow her because I didn’t want to look like a loser. A boy with a cap of black hair waves  limply at me, his mouth full as she continued to shovel food into his mouth.

“Ruth, this is Oliver.” Lynna says.

I nod. “Hey.”

He gulps, then grins up at me, his eyes looking slightly past me. “ ‘Sup, Ruth. I’m Oliver.” He spoke with a British accent. Not that I'd ever heard a British accent before, I just kinda knew it was one. You know, like one does.

I sat on the grass, slightly annoyed that we weren’t sitting at the tables with everyone else. As if she could hear my thoughts, Lynna told me, “Too much noise; questions. Easier up here.”

Oliver nods. “Yeah.”

I didn’t see what was so important about him that people would ask him questions, but I thought that might be rude to point out.

For the reminder of dinner, we simply sat and ate, looking out at the water. We didn’t talk, and I was glad. Words were dangerous. They could light on fire but just as quickly dissipate.

Words were not to be trusted.