Tara was packing her backpack. It had been the sixth time this month. The routine had been quite well-rehearsed. She had her doll, which had lost an arm, the big water jug her Mom told her to “never lose,” a knife, a flashlight, her favorite blanket, and a can of peanut butter that was almost empty.

Mom brought her down from the bunk bed and said, “Okay. Here we go.”

“Where are we going this time?” said Tara.

“I don’t know, sweetie. I spoke to someone that said that might take us to Colorado. Texas doesn’t want to deal with us anymore.”

“I miss home,” said Tara.

“Me too, sweetie,” said Mom.

Home was Atlanta. The severe drought annihilated any rainwater. Whatever did remain in aquifers and reservoirs were taken over by armed groups. The government had intervened to a point but the damage had already been done. Tara and her Mom, like so many millions, were forced to wander in the hopes of finding another safe place to call home.

As they walked, the heat was hot. It was December, nearing Christmas, and Tara didn’t want to have to deal with this heat. She took out some peanut butter and ate a little spoonful.

“How is it?” said Mom.

“Gooey. It’s too hot,” said Tara.

Tara looked around and saw an all-too-familiar sight: People covered in dust, moving with their own backpacks, pushing forward like a bunch of ghosts. Everyone looked sad all the time. Everyone looked like they were about to be frightened as well. Tara didn’t know how to say it so she asked Mom.

“It’s called being ‘on edge,’” said Mom.

“Edge of what?” said Tara.

“It’s a figure of speech. Like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff and are about to fall off. It only takes a little push for you to fall. We’re all on edge, Tara. It’s been a rough few months. People’s nerves are shot.”

“Shot?”

“Fried. They’ve been through so much that they can’t deal with the situation anymore.”

They got onto the trucks and spent the next few days in the open bed, exposed to the heat. A few people passed out. Tara saw Mom try to wake someone up but they never woke up. When we stopped for a break, that person wasn’t there anymore.

When they arrived in a small town, there were a few tents set up, like before in Texas. They couldn’t find a bunk so they had to find a spot in the middle of the tent, crammed in with the other new arrivals. There was resentment everywhere. People were always coughing.

Tara went outside and saw through the fence the people from the town yelling at her. Saying things like “Go home” and “You don’t belong here.” Tara was mad at them. It wasn’t her fault she was here. She wanted to be home. They were on edge too. Just so much anger in them.

“Get away from there,” said Mom, pulling Tara away from the fence. “You don’t need to listen to that.”

Later that night, Mom woke Tara up. “Be quiet. Get your things. Come with me,” she said.

                Tara, half awake, came down from the bunk and tiptoed past the other people in the tent while they slept. Mom brought Tara out to another side of the camp, where a few other people were cloistered. A man in a coat was breaking the chain-link fence.

                “What’s going on, Mom?” said Tara.

                “We’re getting out of here,” said Mom.

More people emerged from their tents, and it eventually spiraled into a commotion as people made a dash through the hole in the fence. Men with flashlights told everyone to stop.

Tara and Mom were already running when they heard a few loud pops. It sounded like firecrackers.

                “Keep moving,” said Mom.

They followed the rest of the people in the group throughout the night, until they reached a farmhouse in the middle of the plain at dawn. Tara finally woke up and felt the brightness of the sun. It was going to be another hot day.

 Inside, Mom gave some man something from her pack and then the man gave her a map. They refilled their water bottles and headed out. Different folks went into different directions. Tara and Mom walked away from the sun.

                “Where are we going, Mom?” said Tara.

                “Away from here,” said Mom.

They reached the mountains after a day’s hike. Tara’s feet were blistered. Mom was tired but mustered the strength to be the motivator for Tara.

                “Apparently, there’s a place we can go where people have made a safe place,” said Mom.

                “Why did we leave the camp?”

                “It wasn’t safe there anymore.”

Going up into the mountains, there was evidence of death. Trees had grown lip. Animal carcasses had been baking in the sun for weeks now. When they reached higher altitudes, they found some more green and some puddles of water. They drank from those.

Tara was hungry and finished the peanut butter. Mom was really tired. And Tara was really tired as well.

They found a group of boulders with shade and went to sleep. They slept well into the night and woke up at an odd hour. Without saying anything, the two of them kept moving.

                Mom checked the map once the sun came out and said, “We should almost be there.”

                In the middle of the day, when it was really hot, Tara and Mom rounded a corner and found a small tent city of folks. Someone came out from the tent, looking mad.

                “All full,” said the man.

                “At least let us stay for a day or two so we can rest,” said Mom. “Where else are we going to go?  I have my daughter.”

                “I have two myself. What do you want me to say?”

                “Let us stay here for a little bit then we can leave some time later.”

                “What’s going on, Mom?” said Tara.

                “They don’t want us here either,” said Mom.

                Tara and Mom found a pond and refilled their water. It had almost completely dried up. The man from before came out with a can of beans.

                “Here,” he said.

                Mom thanked him.

                “Let me see that map,” he said. He pointed a few spots. “You don’t want to go there. They’re not friendly and won’t take anyone in. This place is rather full and will turn you away. The best bet would be to keep going north.”

                “What about you and these people? It doesn’t seem like there’s much here.”

                “My wife is sick. Really sick. We’re just… taking our time with it.”

                “I’m so sorry.”

                “Otherwise, we would be going north like you two.”

                “Thank you again for the beans.”

                “It’s not much.”

                “None of us have much anymore.”

                “Keep moving. That’s all I can say. Lots of people from the West Coast have started to show up so it’s going to get a lot worse. Where are ya’ll from?”

                “Georgia.”

                “That’s a long way.”

                “You?”

                “Alabama. Well, best of luck to you.” The man left.

                Tara and Mom tuckered down underneath a tree.

                “What are we going to do, Mom?”

                “We’ll just keep moving. That’s all we can do.”