Warning; Scales is a body horror and, at times, terrible terrain for the mind.
Static in the air.
“It’s still dry out here.” I breathed, feeling the sting in my nose. It’s slight. I understand that coastal Georgia is not known for its dryness. But, like any good practitioner of the lower octaves in musical scales, one can understand that the undercurrent is as important as the flow. One may notice something when it stands out starkly, presenting itself by its own absence.
Humidity. The fog of no machine, but only the atmosphere’s breath as it dampens the every day down here in Savannah.
“Do you know the difference between a cowboy and a witch?” I asked Bleu.
They shook their head, ‘no.’
“Cowboys travel; witches nest. Today, we are cowboys.”
It’s simple, really. The air is key. It is the weight of it, the community hidden within the vapors that holds one here. Traveling, dry and calculated in the practicality of planning to leave home. Free to float on the wind with ease. But, it is simply difficult to leave. The preparation, the grueling task of urgency woven into each logistical step that you predict will move you forward. It’s corporate projections of varying levels of success in what you may find. But the lesson remains: that which aids you, comes along; that which ails you, gets left behind.
In Georgia, in the springtime, the azaleas pop like fireworks in the park. Star Jasmine, or Southern Jasmine, wafts on the gentle breeze with a sweet decay. Delicate and delightful as they perfume the city in their collective, soft petal-ed deaths. Draping over every fence in nearly every enclave of a garden apartment that lines the perimeters of our roundabout squares. Or at least, they used to.
Now, the vines move differently. Not in the mind that I always understood it, sure, it was always a tad invasive. Not an original plant to our fair colony, but still a beautiful addition that became one with our atmosphere. Instead of canopies of cloudlike flowered splendor, however, there are only remnants that can withstand to adorn the flooded grid. The Grid, afterall, is the most treacherous of places left.
There is, however, little point in trying to infer a truth that is better asked for in clarification.
We move around the building and through the, once, gravel parking lot now covered in the mossy slime from the remaining winter’s chill. Similar to mucus, it creates a viscous film to walk through. Not a pleasant experience, to be clear.
“You know what to expect, right?” I ask.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Follow me, not the street lamps.”
“Okay.” They shook their head.
“We have to get to the cathedral, that’s where I think it starts. It’s a little less than a mile straight through, but with the detours to manage the flood waters it’s going to take us at least an hour to make it through safely, one way. Now, Lily and I have been through here before and have markers set out to a point. It’ll get us far, but once we’re north of the church…I’m not sure what to expect.”
“I understand.”
“You understand that if you do anything remotely different than the plan I’ve set out that you will, in fact, die?”
Bleu looks at me with a soft annoyance. They don’t want to be irritated. It’s obvious my worry has worn out its welcome.
“Ya, I get it. Moving on,” I conclude.
The rain starts. Soft at first, but gradually picking up speed and weight.
My pack feels heavier on my back than I’d like. It’s pressure scraping a newly formed scale sitting on my lower back, crackling like a newspaper. ‘That’ll be raw by the time we’re through…’ I thought.
“We just need to make it to the eastern marker and we can take a rest and wait out this first round of rain.”
“How much further is it?”
“It’s two blocks up and one over, but we have to cross over the old park and then we move into the Grid.” I replied. “Why, you already tired?” I tried to manage a smile, but my back keeps scraping back and forth, back and forth. I didn’t have the heart to tell them it was farther than either of us would have liked.
“You okay?”
“I’ll be better once we cross-over and I can readjust this thing,” I said motioning to my pack. “But, we need to focus. Once we cross here we have to pay close attention to how we walk. So, like I said…”
“Look while you walk, spread out your toes and feel where you’re going. Watch out for thin spots.” They finish for me.
“Or else what happens?” I ask.
“The ground eats me?”
“Yes. The ground will eat you whole.”