The Coming Dawn

Dawn was coming and there was much to do. Hank shed his long coat, the usual chill finally fading with the warmth of the brightening sky. He passed others who were busy at their tasks. Breaking down homes, loading the last of the supply tanks, preparing for the trek ahead. These were the last things to be done before everyone got on the move.

The Move. It was more than a way of life. It was the only way to live on this odd little world their pioneering forbearers had found. A planet spinning on its axis so slowly, each day was centuries long. Despite the desolate winter of the nightside and hellish furnace of the day, they managed a home on the edge of the slowly approaching light. Their descendants living quite comfortably in the twilight temperature bands. Larger settlements and the few cities rested on rails moving steadily nightward. An army of workers tended the engines and toiled constantly to construct those live-saving rails. Settlements like Hank’s required the Move. Moves were as regular as they were necessary. Their village retreating toward the frigid night to avoid the blazing terror of the sun. A child could be born and take their first steps before the slow march of day could catch them.

Hank moved quickly among his fellow villagers. Straps. He needed straps for the last of his preparations. Everyone set about their tasks with the smooth unhurried efficiency of born nomads. Tented roofs fell with controlled collapses as he walked the wide road through the settlement.

“Hank, how are you?” called a gruff voice. A bear of a man lumbered over to greet him. Hank extended his hand with a smile, even though he didn’t have time for this. The warm breeze with its faint smell of smoke told what the timepiece on his wrist didn’t have to. The sun was coming.

“I need some strapping. Any idea who may have some to spare?” Hank asked. The big man looked thoughtfully at him for a moment. Morgan was his wife’s brother and a genius at fixing things. His shop had long since been broken down. Critical resources were always first on the carts.

“Dunno.” He replied, pulling at his graying beard. “Kelsey may have something. I’m down to the last of my twine.” Putting his large hand on Hank’s shoulder, “You’re welcome to it.” Hank shook his head, twine was too weak, he needed something stronger. Something that could lift as well as hold. He turned before he could catch the look of pity he knew was coming.

“You’re welcome to make the Move with me. I have room enough.” Morgan called as Hank continued on his way . He had to get back to Tess and Lilly. His family needed him and they always came first. He wouldn’t let them down. Tess always told him to think with his head and not his heart. That was advice he rarely listened to. When he was young and reckless, Hank had climbed to the top of the Spine, a mountainous ridge that was rumored to give a glimpse of the sun to the brave hearted. He had been dared of course, and refused to back down. Tess, hearing of Hank’s climb from her brother, had caught up to him just as he made for the summit. Calling him a fool, she warned him of the danger. He’d told her to go home. He reached up for one last handhold that would afford the view that would prove him a man when a flash of sunlight caught his hand just as she pulled his ankle. They tumbled down the slope before coming to a dusty stop at a rocky outcrop.

His hand was burned to an angry red. Tess swore as she bound it with a bit of cloth and a salve from a pocket. Hank had been surprised she had the needed treatment on hand. Tess had commented of her surprise that he was so thick not to see what was right in front of him. When he looked into her eyes, he had finally seen. She was the prettiest girl in town, and he was a bigger fool than he realized. They shared their first kiss right there on the slope of the Spine.

Tess eventually became his wife. All that time together had been the happiest of his life. Years it used to be called. Time calculated by the movement of the sun in the sky. But that was another world ago. Here the only measurement was the span between Moves. They had moved fifteen times together as man and wife. Lilly had come nine Moves after their marriage and had seen six of her own. Where had the time gone?

“Any strapping to spare?” he called down a narrow path between two shelters that were yet to fall. A head poked out of a door, shaking a no before disappearing. Hank shouted a thanks and continued down the road. The motored carts were moving into position now. More, and more equipment and supplies were being loaded on. People called greetings as he passed. None with any strapping that wasn’t already in use.

Lilly’s birth had surprised Hank by how much she had filled his heart. Birthing was always risky, but Tess had no problems bringing their daughter into the world. He’d never seen her so happy or loved her so much. Having a growing child especially one as precocious as Lilly had tested his fortitude and patience. He smiled now remembering the time Lilly had picked all of old Marta’s flowers to make herself a crown. An old earth story of fairies had inspired her mischief. Flowers were precious symbols of the permanence this world lacked. Always rooted to a single spot, they were left to bloom and fade where they grew. It was bad luck to do otherwise. Marta had been irate and all of Hank’s diplomacy was needed to smooth things over.

Finally, he saw the red folds of the shelter he had been looking for. Laying on its side laces slack, it waited to be tightened and tied off. He quickened his pace. A young woman was pulling on an overloaded pack. He stepped up, helping her settle the weight on her shoulders.

“Thanks, Hank.” Kelsey said, blowing out her cheeks. “Shouldn’t you be finishing up for the Move?”

“That’s why I’m here. I need some strapping. Do you have extra?”

Kelsey shook her head, “Gave the last of mine away at breakfast. Sorry.” She looked hard at him. “Are you okay? You’re always the first one ready for a Move. Others could use a hand if you have the time.”

“I’ve got my hands full getting Tess and Lilly ready. It’s been a challenge this time.” Hank clapped her on the shoulder. “Everything is coming together. Don’t worry.” She did look worried but nodded just the same. The fever had moved through the community quickly. Lilly falling sick, soon followed by Tess. It had taken all he had to care for them. The doctors offered little in the way of treatment. Those that recovered did so slowly. It made quick work of those that didn’t.

Hank turned, leaving Kelsey to her labors. Swearing, he tried to think of something that might serve as the strapping he needed. With the Move every resource was utilized. Anything as handy as strapping was always in short supply. Made from the Ironroot weed, its fibers were unrivaled in tensile strength and supple flexibility. Retracing his path back through the village, little remained standing. The final preparations had begun. When it happened, it happened fast. The first beads of sweat rolled down his temple. Time was running out.

A small woman with silver hair backed into him, dropping her load and falling with a grunt. Hank hurried to help her up. At first, she struggled against his helping hand but eventually allowed him to pull her up.

“Marta are you okay?” he asked. The little woman swore a string of curses that confirmed she was indeed fine. Hank couldn’t help but laugh as he helped her gather her scattered belongings.

“Not as young as I used to be,” she said, pulling her pack’s tie-cord tight. “I’m not sure how many Moves I have left in me.”

“Oh, Marta. A Move without you would be like not having the sun at your back.” Hank laughed again. They had a saying for the Move, “Where are we going? Anywhere you want as long as the sun is at your back.”

“It’s good to hear you laugh.” She smiled. “It’s been a while.” She slapped his arm, “I’ve got something for that girl of yours.” Before Hank could beg off, she disappeared. A moment later she returned with two huge magenta flowers. “They’re called Stargazers. I know your girl loves flowers.” She waved off Hanks surprised look. “I know, I know. The sun’s going to have them anyway. When get to be my age, you’ve used all your luck, good and bad.” She began digging through her pack, “I heard you needed this.” She produced a small spool of strapping.

“Oh my God! Yes! Thank you, Marta.” Hank said, almost hugging her in relief. The spool would be just enough. “And the flowers… Lilly… she will love them,” he said. Marta put her calloused weathered hands on his cheeks and pulled him down, kissing his forehead. Then, without another word, she lifted her pack, calling out to the cart master as she trudged away.

Hank hurried past the carts as the engines fired up. The cart masters began their final calls. The last tarps were being sinched as the flow of people burdened with their packs began to trickle forward. The Move had begun. “You’re going the wrong way!” called a boy herding one last goose into its cage. Hank waved, saying his cart would bring up the rear. Jogging the last ten minutes he came to his home.

In a small clearing just off the road stood a packed cart harnessed to a donkey. All was broken down, packed and under the cart’s cover. Kelsey was right, Hank was always the first ready for the Move. His donkey brayed impatiently. Even Eeyore knew it was time. Hank stroked his downy ears and shushed him with a few calm words. Then with a slap on his rump the cart was trundling along the road. Smart and strong with plenty of Moves behind him, Eeyore would make the distance to the caravan before it found its pace. Someone in the village would find a use for their belongings.

Hank turned to the two waiting figures. “Marta sent you some flowers, Lilly,” he said to the smaller of the two shrouded forms, laying them on her chest. After a moment to catch his breath, he quickly lashed the cross pieces of the pyre together. Lifting Tess to lay her atop the bundle took all his strength. Lilly proved an even heavier burden.

That cursed fever had taken them in the night. The last thing Hank had to do was prepare their pyre. Cremation was a custom from their star faring ancestors. Born of necessity, the dead were always gifted to the sun, but it was important to give them the grace of a clean burn. A pyre high enough to frustrate carrion eaters with enough fuel to quickly reduce the departed to ash. That was the proper way, and he would give them nothing less.

Memories of his small family and their travels came to Hank as he climbed the pyre. The slope where he first kissed Tess. The shallow valley that echoed with Lilly’s first cries. The crooked snowman Lilly had been so proud of. Teaching her to ride Eeyore, swim the river, tie a sharp knot. Gently holding Tess by the evening fire watching the ever-present stars. All the places they’d seen, all the homes they’d made were now under the gaze of the sun. Someday far in the future, this world would turn those places once again toward the night. Maybe a family like his would do those same things in those same places under the twilight sky. Someday, perhaps. But for now, Hank watched the bright sky with Tess and Lilly, waiting for the coming dawn.