The sokudu bike puttered slowly to a stop as Keziah held up a fist, the signal for the group to stop. Her wary gaze took in their surroundings. Flat lands for kilometers in every direction, good spot to make camp. They pitched their tents in the lee of the collapsed buildings. This land hadn’t been much before the war just a tiny oasis surrounded by kilometers of empty desert. Now they called it the “Never Never.” The saying was “Never go out there or you’ll Never come back.”
Old power poles and a single ancient sign post stood in stark relief against the barren landscape. They built a small cook fire in the shelter of the sign post, sentries took their posts and Keziah finally found her bed. That night she dreamed of palm trees and gentle ocean breezes and a voice that softly sang “Last stop … rest stop.” Tomorrow they would continue across the Never Never always searching for that promised land, where ocean breezes blew and the land was green.
Word count 173
Til next time ~Peace ~JPP