"Flash" fiction (less than 500 words) is something I'm really interested in. How do you create engaging characters and plot, so completely and yet so compactly. This one was inspired by the ideomancer site.
The morning sky was tinged with red. “Is that ‘shepherd’s warning’?” Temaya asked.
We packed the camp into sizable bags, lifting them one by one onto the portagrav. Slowly it raised itself a foot from the ground, and I lightly tapped the end to start it moving towards the sun.
Being an OffWorlder Guide was a curious thing. Now a few years after Contact, they still lived simply, even primitively. Many trekked across the hills and mountain ranges, experiencing our land in an attempt to understand us. In many ways I felt superior. Technology abounded, even permeated, our world, and yet they had contacted us.
Temaya preferred to walk rather than ride the portagrav. Out of courtesy I lumbered alongside him. ‘The OffWorlder is always right. Do not offend.’ was the rule. Besides, the ’grav probably couldn’t support us and the gear. It was a few paces ahead now, cruising towards the peak we were beginning to climb. Suddenly, it disappeared. Moments later a crash disturbed our silence. Temaya looked at me, curious. I ran for the peak, fearing the worst. It began to rain.
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Sure enough, the rise gave way to a sheer drop – too steep for the portagrav to recoil from, and the drop too far for it to withstand. Our gear lay scattered like the spitting rain. I looked worriedly at the wreckage. We were miles from anywhere, and without our gear we wouldn’t survive the night, much less the trek to civilization. Temaya clambered up in his slow, dependable manner. He didn’t acknowledge me, but quietly turned and climbed down the cliff face.
There wasn’t much to be salvaged: some food, a bag, but none of the gear. The locator might be repaired. “This is bad”, I said. “We need to find shelter, and work out what to do next.” He smiled at me, and started walking again toward the sunrise. “Hey, come back”, I shouted, but not knowing what else to do, I followed him.
We covered twice the usual distance that day, even in the rain. I’d never realized how the ’grav slowed us down. That night Temaya dug a shelter, his huge hands quickly angling a hole for the two of us. Once inside he plunged his arms deep into the soil, time after time looking at the dirt he pulled out, murmuring in dissatisfaction. Eventually he pulled out something approving, smelled it, and, for a brief moment, he smiled. “Here,” he held it out to me, “Drink.” I tried not to laugh. This was dirt! He gently grabbed my hand, and poured some of the cool soil into it. Then he spat on some of his own, made a smooth paste, and licked at it.
We survived like that for the rest of the journey. Eight days in all. I never did get the locator to send a signal. After a while, I even gave up trying.
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