Fetching Water by Liv Przydzial

Fetching Water

by Liv Przydzial

Somewhere in Northeastern Mexico, 2040

Gasp! I woke in a cold sweat, not remembering where I was or what I was doing. I took
several wispy, shallow breaths as I tried to work out the situation. It was probably three or
four in the morning, ‘cause Momma was starting to wake. I laid back down and tried to
calm myself and clear my head, but my thoughts swirled around in my head like a violent
tornado. The hollering of men. Gunshots. Yelling. Mothers shrieking as they watched their
children fall dead, with bullets shot straight through their hearts. Papa hollering for us to get
down and move fast. Momma looking for the twins, Carly and Jenna. Carly being shot
through her head as she let out an earsplitting screech in agony. Momma shaking in horror,
sobbing, trying to keep herself together. Papa grabbing me with his big, strong hands as we
neared the edge of our Texas City home. Papa telling us to run as fast as we could straight
ahead. Papa running back to the chaos to help the wounded. Waking up the next morning
to distant gunshots. Walking for days and days and days, only stopping for water at small
brooks and streams.

The War has long since been over. The small hut that my family has called home for
these past few years was barely standing. I don’t even know how old I am, or where exactly
we are. Everything about the War has since been a blur for me. Jenna didn’t even know she
had a twin sister, or that there was a war. Momma was always so sad and miserable without
Papa. But I know he’ll be back one day. He wouldn’t just leave us. I gently touched the little
amber necklace that hung around my neck. Papa had given it to me on my tenth birthday
back in Texas, and I haven’t taken it off since. As I wondered about when Papa would come
back, I slowly dozed back off, leaving my troubled mind elsewhere.

* * *

“Lori, wake up. Lori, come on,” Momma urged me. My eyes fluttered open and I saw
Momma sitting on the floor by my blankets with her legs crossed. I groaned as I pulled myself
out of bed. I thought of the long day ahead of me. In Texas, a so-called ‘long’ day would be a
day of school with a test or quiz. And I would complain as if I was in the worst situation ever.
Never had I imagined my days to be ‘long’ in this sense. I pulled myself out of my tangled heap
of blankets and reached over to poke Jenna, who was snoring, immersed in what seemed like
her hell-bent attempt at hibernation. “Come on, Jenna,” I said, “It’s time to go fetch water.”

Pulling on my old, raggedy shorts, I thought about the long trip ahead of me. I’ve been
going to the stream for years now, ever since we came here. Jenna was tossing her blankets
into a heap in the corner of the room, groaning each time she had to bend down. I grabbed my
ten-gallon water jug from the ramshackle table near the door and called for Jenna to hurry up.
She grabbed her jug and handed me my canteen of water as she swung hers over her sunburnt
shoulder. We hurried out of the house. It was better to get all of the water chores done in the
mornings and sometimes the evenings, when the sun wasn’t out frying you like a helpless little
worm on a frying pan. It was still dark outside. The air was still and not a breeze drifted through
the land. It was hot and humid, but nothing to complain about, especially considering what it
would be like later in the day.
I looked out at the vast land of nothing but parched, cracked dirt. The only living things that
I could see were the occasional desert spoons, dispersed in this wasteland. We started walking,
both of us almost completely ignoring the aching of our legs from the work of the previous day.
We started at a brisk pace, wanting desperately to get back home and let our sore bones rest.
But in a place like this, resting was not an option. It was fetch water or die, whether you liked
it or not. Neither one of us expected that today would be the day that only one of us made it
back home.