Suzy’s Strange Saga

The Future…

“Mom, why can’t we just head to Rebirth, it’s closer and we can get better deals there.” Lucy asks you.
“Because last time we stopped through, they were beginning to go through a power struggle and while I know it’s over now, the new ruling head of that town is an asshole.” You reply.
“And how exactly does that make him any different than the last guy?”
“The last ruler of Rebirth at least tried to curb the amount of wanton violence and rape in the community. This guy encourages it. The place is little more than a glorified wasteland thug haven now. We walk in there and at best we’re going to come out of a firefight alive and poor. At worst, well I think you know what will happen.”

Lucy doesn’t say anything. She’s fully aware of the dangers of being female, let alone a teenage girl that looks like her in this new harsh world. Still, she can’t help arguing the point.

“But don’t we risk death and worse just by roaming from place to place all the time anyway? Wouldn’t it be better if we found some place to settle down?”
“Heh, I guess you don’t remember because you were so young, but your father and I tried that once. Didn’t work out very well when the little town that we THOUGHT was secure got overrun by raiders. That was probably one of the scariest days of my life. After years of previously being drifters, we let ourselves get unprepared. It was a mistake on my part since I thought a more stable environment would be better to raise you in, as it turned out, should’ve stayed a nomad and I’d say that’s worked out a lot better.”
“How? We’re always living a hand to mouth existence. Our group still loses people to violence and other causes. I mean dad died because we don’t have proper medical treatment available.”
“Lucy, your father might’ve died anyway even if we hadn’t been living a nomadic existence. I know they say civilization is rebuilding, but most of the places we’ve been to aren’t exactly stellar in their medical facilities themselves. The exceptions might be those fucked up Ground Zero communities and I doubt if you’d want to live some place like that.”
“No, I guess not.” Lucy says.

You look at Lucy and understand she’s just being a little rebellious due to her being a teenager right now. She’s at the age where she doesn’t want you to be so close all the time. It’s funny because you went through no such rebellious period yourself and your lifestyle was the exact opposite right now. You never went anywhere; you never really did anything save for staying in your basement.

Now? You’ve seen more and done more than you ever could’ve imagined. In fact you’ve lived a nomadic existence long enough that you think you prefer it, even when you temporarily settled down years ago. You (and her father) have taught Lucy how to take care of herself in this harsh world. Still, you do wonder if you’re probably a little overprotective of your daughter, you won’t be around forever and she should have the opportunity to live her own life and if that means she wants to live in a permanent residence then perhaps she should be given that chance.

“Lucy, the world is still pretty fucked up now, but despite my previous cynicism, I suppose parts of it are getting better. Maybe one day you can find a nice place to settle down that won’t be run by a bloodthirsty warlord or in danger of being raided by mutant cannibals. And if that’s your choice, then you’re free to do it. I know you’ll have to live your own life eventually.” You say.

Lucy smiles at the permission, but reassures you that she had no intention of leaving you yet. It’s comforting, since it shows that she still wants you around. She’s still your child.

You, Lucy and the rest of your ragtag band of traders, tinkerers and scavengers make your way to the town of Blivop. Not exactly the best for trade, but at least the people there aren’t complete amoral rapists and murderers.

Later that night when your caravan sets down for the night, you drift off to sleep with an old worn clown nose in your hand. You squeeze it a couple times, remembering happy times with your now departed husband.

“Goddnight Lance.” You say and slowly drift off with the round red foam ball in your hand.