Rivergal

It seemed to Reca that the river might have dried up after all.

Two hours past the blue house- or, rather, two hours by Reca's amateur estimate- there was still no sign of Hell River (or, as the man had called it, Iris River). Despite its prominent position on the map, there were no easily-identifiable landmarks that could indicate the pair's distance from it, and so, slowly losing hope, they continued south.

Night had fallen hours ago. Reca resisted sleep, but it eventually came for her anyways. She would jerk awake every few minutes, determined to stay diligent, but inevitably her eyes would close and she would curl up like a cat on a warm tin roof. The vibrations of the van on the sand might have kept an average person uncomfortably awake, but Reca found them comforting- the sensation was perhaps akin to an extreme version of being rocked by one's mother. As such, paradoxically, when the vibrations stopped, she suddenly jolted awake.

"Please," she grumbled, "keep driving..."

Her words tapered off when the sleep-fog began to give way. In front of her was another settlement, not unlike Andistronica. This one was built of water-damaged wood rather than discarded metal, but the lean-to shacks and dirt footpaths made Reca and Deca yearn for home. There were other things here, too, like a strip of inky black that ran across the landscape past the village and the sound of... running water?

Reca blinked once, then twice. Suddenly, her senses connected, and the mental fog granted by her irregular sleep suddenly dissipated entirely.

It wasn't just a black strip! It was the river!

With a sense of childlike joy in her motions, Reca dismounted without even using the ladder and rushed to the water. She hadn't seen a real river before! They were supposed to be blue, though, at least according to the pictures she'd seen, and even accounting for the late-night darkness, this one seemed black. She poked the water and felt a strange, familiar sizzling sensation accost her skin. It was so unpleasant that she jerked back and fell onto her butt.

It felt like the acid snow had earlier.

Reca suddenly remembered her environmental science lessons. The water cycle meant that the snow and rain came from groundwater that evaporated. Could this river- or, rather, the reservoir it flowed into- be contaminated? Was that why the snow was called acid snow as opposed to just snow? She had never experienced non-acid snow, but had gathered that it existed from context.

Her disappointment at the acidic state of the water clashed with her elation about having a destination. She had pictured herself wading in the shallows and swimming when the water got deeper, but that one painful touch had been much enough for her.

The duo's focus turned momentarily to the tiny riverside settlement. Reca fancied the idea of being a bona-fide hardcore survivalist type, so she immediately went to see if there was anything left behind worth looting. There was one book left in the library- a thick hardcover guide to different types of freshwater fish. Maybe there were still fish in other rivers, but Reca somehow doubted their existence in this one. She left it behind.

The next building she checked was ostensibly some sort of game room. A chess board had been knocked onto the floor, and a makeshift connect-four game sat on the table. Rows of three in each color were present. Two people had sat down to play a game, but they were never able to finish it- something had stopped them, perhaps, or maybe they lost interest.

Reca stepped up and picked up one of the red pieces, prepared to lay the game to rest, but she stopped to ponder whose turn it was when the settlement was abandoned. If red had made the last move, she ought to finish Yellow's column, because that was only fair. On the other hand, maybe yellow had made the last move. She counted how many of each color had been played and, to her dismay, discovered that the numbers were equal. Maybe that was why the game had been abandoned. Maybe the players had taken a break and forgotten whose turn was next.

Well, she thought to herself, maybe they'll come back and finish the game at some point.

It seemed unlikely, but the prospect gave her an odd kind of hope.

As she left the table, she noticed something that hadn't been visible from the entrance- a green handprint on the interior wall near the door. It might have been part of a festive mural, maybe, one that had otherwise faded. She absently put her hand to it.

Squelch!

She pulled her hand back in disgust and wound up on her but for the second time that night. Actually, it wasn't night anymore, but very very very early morning. That was of no concern to Reca, though- as she looked down at her hand, she noticed her palm was covered in green paint. By all accounts, it shouldn't have been covered in anything but dust. Paint didn't stay wet that long. So...

"Deca!"

Deca was examining the corrosion of the riverbank when Reca ran out of the settlement, screaming and waving one hand- which seemed greener than usual- in the air frantically.

"Deca, you gotta see this!"

The van could barely fit between the closely-packed shacks, but she did her best to follow Reca inwards. Suddenly, something green appeared in the corner of her vision.

RIVERGAL WAS HERE

It was written with spray paint, still glistening. This must have been what Reca wanted to-

"Now, it's in here... hey, what're you stopping for...?"

They shared a moment of confused silence in front of the graffiti.

"Who's Rivergal?"

Deca wasn't concerned with the idea that someone was here as much as with the idea that someone was here recently. Another traveler, for sure, but which way did they go? If only there was some kind of hint in the message that would...

Rivergal.

If Deca could talk, they would have said it in unison-

"We gotta follow the river!"

In under twenty seconds, Reca and Deca were barreling out of the riverside settlement with no regard for the safety of its buildings. Deca revved up and dashed parallel to the river itself, taking each bump in stride, and Reca felt the chattering of her teeth sync up with the madcap pounding of her heart. The river was hardly large enough to support a boat, so whoever had left the message couldn't be too far away! At any rate, if Deca exerted herself and powered through at maximum speed, the duo was sure to catch up with the other wanderer.

Sure enough, minutes down the road, Reca caught sight of someone- a blur, given Deca's speed. They got closer and closer, wind whipping at their faces, Deca's engine blazing... and then they passed the silhouette.

"Stop!" Reca yelled, suddenly feeling like she was on a rollercoaster about to take a big drop. "Stop, stop! We missed her!"

The noise calmed. The air grew smooth again. With a lurch, Deca swerved and came to an awkward stop, nearly knocking Reca off. The person, presumably Rivergal, had noticed them- it would have been weirder if she hadn't- and she was slowing down as well. She would reach Reca soon enough, and so Reca just sat on the riverbank and waited, face in hands, overcome with nausea and dizziness.

When she opened her eyes, the girl was standing right over her with a disgruntled look.

She was wearing a flower crown, a neon floral-print dress stained with inky black acid water and green paint, and toeless sandals that made something unsettlingly obvious- her skin was peeling from the feet up. The further down on her body Reca looked, the more damaged the girl's skin seemed. Judging by the stains on her skirt, the damage must have come from the river- no surprise, given that this was apparently a girl who had been wading in it.

"What're you looking at?" scoffed Rivergal.

"No, it's nothing!" Reca made sure to stare at her face rather than her feet, but found that it wasn't in great shape either. She had bags under her eyes so dark they could be mistaken for acid water stains and her hair was a disheveled mess. To avoid judgy thoughts, Reca settled (regardless of how unusual it was) on looking at the girl's neck.

"Your hand's green. Did you just come from Bastion?"

"What's Bastion?"

"You don't have a map or anything?"

"We have a map," Reca replied defensively. "It's just that it didn't have the names of the settlements." She suspected that Bastion was the name of the settlement they had been to earlier.

"Settlement? Hah! That's giving Bastion too much credit," the girl snickered. "That place was a rest point. Like a truck stop, y'know? Back when this river was big n' mighty, people on their boats would go to Bastion and have a grand old time and leave the next morning."

"Really? How'd you learn all that?" Reca's tone was genuinely inquisitive, and it lacked the passive-aggressiveness that seemed to permeate the girl's speech. The girl was taken aback, but eventually collected herself.

"My pops was a boat captain," she said. "Course, the river is too small for a boat now. All I got is my raft."

Reca turned to her left and realized she somehow hadn't noticed the eclectic scrap metal contraption next to her. The bottom was full of holes- hardly buoyant enough to be a raft, surely?

"But, like, there's nothing to repair it with around here. So really I've just been walking and lugging this old heap of trash behind me."

That explained her legs.

"Where are you going, uh..."

"Reca!"

"Nice to meetcha, Reca. You can call me Rivergal."

"That your real name?"

"No, no, it's my new nickname. New nickname, new me. New life, too. Anyways, like I was asking, where are you going?"

Reca didn't have a real answer. Maybe she could have come up with a poetic answer like "I'm going towards the truth" if she had more time. She didn't, though, and so she shrugged and ended up coming off as a vagrant-

"I dunno. I guess, wherever I'm going is... where... I'm going."

It sounded better in her head.

"That's stupid," responded Rivergal. "You'll never get anywhere if you dunno where you're even going!"

"Well," grumbled Reca, changing the subject, "Then where are you going?"

The girl struck a theatric pose and launched into a monologue that seemed uncannily rehearsed.

"I come from a land out west," she began, "where, in wintertime, it would snow and snow-"

"Funny you bring that up," interjected Reca. "We left because of the acid snow too."

"Acid snow? Hey, dontcha put words in my mouth," the girl said, returning to her informal cadence. "It was just regular snow, but too much of it!"

There was normal snow out west? Reca almost wanted to follow the river upstream.

"The only warmth we had was that which laid within the warm stories told around the campfire," she continued, returning to the performative style. Reca thought that surely the fire itself was warm too, but didn't say anything. "Long ago, my grandparents traveled far and wide through this vast world, bringing with them stories of exhilarating new horizons that I, the tragic heroine, was sadly unable to see. Among those stories, though, one spoke to me, pulled on my heartstrings- I knew it was where I truly belonged.

A place free of judgement, of rules and regulations- a place with warm weather, endless summers, no more winters. A tropical place, a place where I knew I would fit in. A place where no one would tell me to put on more layers. A place where I could wear a short skirt and nobody would ever complain."

Rivergal's motivations, judging by the story alone, were all over the place.

"I snuck out one dismal night in the midst of a snowstorm, determined to find the river and use it to convey me to my destination, but I soon found that it was but a shell of its former glory. O River, why have you forsaken me so? That's what I said. But I was not to be deterred! I tore the metal roof from my house and made a cabin of its walls. Then I set out, unburdened by fate!" She switched into her normal voice. "That was- lemme see- like, maybe three weeks ago."

"So you're saying the river flows to the tropical place you mentioned earlier?"

"Sure it does! Don't you know anything at all? Why do you think they call it Hell River?"

That made sense.

Of course they would name a river after...

Reca's thoughts caught up with her with the force of a hundred rubber bands fired from a slingshot at the back of her head.

"HELL? You're going to hell? On purpose?"

"Everyone's always so judgy about it!" The girl stomped, splashing some water onto Reca and forcing her to scoot back in self-defense. "Y'know, at home they called me a little demon, so I'd fit right in!"

Reca was still in shock.

"I guess..." she tried to find the words. "I guess I get why you changed your name..."

"Little demon wasn't my name, dummy. Just a nickname! And a hella accurate one, I might add!" Rivergal threw up a metal horns symbol and stuck her tongue out. She looked less like a badass punk rocker and more like a zombie, but Reca didn't say that out loud.

"Uh... okay."

"What happened to you? What's gotten you so worked up?"

Reca couldn't even answer. She just sat there. If she followed the river, it'd lead her to hell? Surely she had to go some other way now. Unless Rivergal was delusional, which seemed possible. Reca didn't say that out loud either.

"Different strokes for different folks! You might be high and mighty, but I know where I belong. You don't even know where you're goin'! At least I have a destination!"

Maybe the duo did need somewhere to go. Hey, from her description of hell, it didn't sound too... no! No, she couldn't let this oddball get in her head!

"It's been nice talking to you," Reca deadpanned. Without another word, she got up and begun walking backwards towards Deca.

"A shame!" Rivergal exclaimed. "And to think I assumed at first that I had found a way to get where I'm goin' without stripping my legs down to the bone!"

It was true. Reca's heart was pierced with a dull arrow of sympathy. Maybe Rivergal could be her traveling companion, since the man at the blue house stayed behind. The poor girl's skin was peeling off, and long-term exposure to that acidic water couldn't be good regardless- it seemed now like the right thing to do.

"But," came the girl's voice, interrupting Reca's thoughts, "I know when I'm not wanted."

With that, she pouted at Reca and begun to drag her raft behind her again. Reca didn't want to go to hell with the crazy girl in tow, but she shouldn't- no, she couldn't- let her continue to hurt herself like that.

"Wait! Rivergal, hold on one minute!"

She turned around, unimpressed.

"We'll take you."

Rivergal's eyes widened. Was the pout not a guilt trip? Was she truly not expecting any sympathy? If her story was to be believed, maybe she had never really experienced it before.

She trudged her way up to the van. Deca opened the back doors and the two girls sat down, half-in and half-out, using the roof for shade.

"There's only one bed in here," Rivergal observed.

"I sleep on the roof."

"You're crazy," she said, clearly irritated.

"I could say the same thing about you."

Was this a moment of bonding or just a further stake driven into their rocky short-lived relationship? Reca couldn't tell.

"I guess I'm coming with..." Rivergal trailed off as her eyes fell upon the wagon full of cans in the back. "Hey. Is that food? And a wagon?"

"Food, a wagon, and a slingshot," Reca confirmed.

"I don't need to come with you."

"How come?"

"If you lent me that wagon and some of the cans, I could survive on my own. Clearly you're not using it."

Rather than waiting for an answer, Rivergal immediately reached for the wagon. Reca wanted to object, but she really wasn't using it, and handing it over seemed like the least she could do.

"Really? You're just letting me take it? No screamin' at me?"

"No... just leave us a few cans and the slingshot."

"Boy, you're generous." Her words were laced with a kind of shock. Was generosity really so unexpected to her? Reca was so conflicted that she couldn't even look at the girl's neck anymore.

"Look, I'm a little sorry for lashin' out at you earlier."

"A little?"

"Don't push me too hard, kiddo."

With a few exertion noises, the girl pulled the wagon from the van and picked up a few cans that had falled out in the process.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome," Reca replied.

As she walked away, Reca had an idea. Rivergal knew a lot about the world. Reca didn't even know what the scope of her knowledge was, and so she asked the question she had been seeking answers to since she first learned to think-

"How did the apocalypse happen?"

The crazy girl turned around.

"I don't know," she spat. "Nobody does."

Reca was sure those would be the last words shared between them, but the girl same to a stop in front of her old raft. Just as Reca was about to ask what was going on, she turned around again.

"Hey," said Rivergal, "I won't be needing this old thing anymore. Why don't you take it with you? In exchange for the supplies, I mean."

Reca might have said a number of things. Perhaps she could have said, "generosity requires no exchange", or maybe "what on earth would I do with a broken raft?"

She didn't say either of those things. She couldn't. Not then.

Rivergal shrugged, waved goodbye, and then walked away. The sun boiled in the sky. Reca sat in the shade, waiting for her fugue state to end, watching her shadow grow shorter. Two ever-important words echoed in the canyon that was her mind.

Nobody does.

'Well, if nobody knows how it happened,' thought Reca, 'I'll be the very first person to find out.'

The answer seemed closer than it ever had been back home, and yet it was still so far away. Where was there to go at this point?

She walked through the van and sat down in the driver's seat once again. The map was still on the dashboard. The river, the settlements... she decided it was time to chase a different horizon, no matter how curious she was about hell.

"I want to know what this big building is. The one that says NukeCorp NLA on it. It should be way north of here."

Deca turned on her internal lights, hoping it would come across as agreement. Her engine sputtered to life and she turned away from the river.

There was nothing printed on the map between the river and NukeCorp. There was something that made Reca pause, though- a series of black, scribbled-on marker circles that, if interpreted as physical objects, would act as potential obstacles to anyone trying to pass through the area.

"I guess we'll finally figure out what those circles mean," said Reca, attempting to subtly remind Deca of their existence. Reca would always speculate at times like these. No matter how hard she thought, though, she couldn't bring up a single plausible explanation for the circles. Why were they so important to the old Settlement Leader that he would deface his only map to warn future readers of them?

Reca was frightened (and, paradoxically, excited) to find out.