Lucy shook her head at me. “Purple – seriously, Abby? Have I taught you nothing? It’s indigo.” She sighed. “I might have to get out my color chart again.”
I shook my head. “Purple – indigo – maroon. The important part – the sky should be blue.” I took a deep breath. “And I live in constant fear of having to sit through ‘what color suits Abby?’ again.” I raised my voice in a high-pitched imitation of Lucy.
She proceeded to both flip me off and stick her snooty nose in the air. “One day my skills will serve us well. You just wait and see. And I got nothing with the sky. I’m just going to pretend it’s normal.”
I looked around. We were standing in the centre of a jungle that was denser than I remembered from my last visit to crazy town. I couldn’t determine any path through the vegetation. From our compound stash, I’d packed a few energy bars and three bottles of water, but that wouldn’t last long. We needed to find shelter first, followed closely by food.
“Is that a slight pathway through there?” Lucy pointed out a small gap between what could have been two bright green ferns.
That was my guess, anyways, because nothing back home really compared.
I shrugged. “There doesn’t seem to be a path anywhere. We’ll have to push our way through and see what’s on the other side.”
I moved first, the foliage hugging close on either side. Once we were past the initial large bushy plant, a type of path widened enough for us to move more freely.
“How old do you think this forest is?” Lucy swatted away at some small flying bugs as she followed. “These trees are as tall as skyscrapers.”
I looked up again; the trees were massive and intimidating. I felt like a dwarf walking amongst the giants. And the noise – life echoed throughout – a chorus of insects, birds chirping and sporadic rustling throughout the undergrowth. There was nothing stagnant here.
“This entire forest looks ancient. Back home, long ago they’d have demolished this for a housing complex or something equally useless. ”
I shook my head, thinking of how bad the over-development problem had been in the early twenty-first century, throwing Earth’s entire eco-system out of sync. Now New York had thousands of abandoned buildings, but zero food – priorities, people.
I gestured to nearby flowers, gorgeous orange blooms. “Imagine how pretty New York would be if there were still flowers and trees. This is the way a world should look.”
Lucy brushed her hands through the leaves as she walked. “Eeeeeek ... eek ... crap! Get it off.” She was jumping up and down now, spider webs trailing along her arm and in her hair.
Laughing, I helped de-web her. Luckily, there was no sign of the web owner, although Lucy made me spend an additional ten minutes double- and triple-checking her hair.
Finally she relented, shuddering as she looked around. “You know, at least when there’re less plants there’re less bugs, and that’s fine by me.”
Lifting my face, letting the sunlight bathe me in its glow for a moment, I shook my head. “Not me – I love plants. When I was younger I’d sneak around the compound burying seeds, but the soil was too dry and leeched of nutrients. Nothing ever grew.”
Lucy’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. “Are you freaking kidding me? How could I not know that about you?”
I laughed. “Gardens aren’t exactly your thing, Luce, so I just kept that little quirk to myself.”
She nodded. “True, I can appreciate the beauty of nature as much as anyone, but I’m more about the clean sheets and walk-in wardrobe.” She paused, pulling at some missed web and leaves in her hair. “Although it’s growing on me. There’s something recharging and peaceful here. It’s hard to describe.”
After trekking for thirty minutes, I paused to mop up some of the sweat. We had taken our coats off but it was still stifling hot. Retrieving a bottle, I took a huge gulp of water, letting small amounts of the cool refreshing liquid run down my chin. I handed the half-full container to Lucy.
“Is this a forest or a sauna?” I looked about in despair.
Lucy peered around me as she stashed the now empty container in her bag. Her hair hung in damp clumps, pale skin slightly pink and flushed.
“Does the undergrowth look like it’s thinning over there?” She pointed to the tree line about fifty feet away. Shifting my pack higher, I changed direction. As we moved closer, I could see the undergrowth tapering off to reveal a small alcove in the forest. My eyes took a few minutes to adjust. The canopy was thinner, the light extra bright. I noticed a strange reflection near the back.