Reader Friday: Tools for the Quest

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Chris’s hands gripped mine tightly. “Promise me you’ll go.”

We sat in his tiny shack. He had “returned from the dead” after being missing for eighty days, gaunt, thinning white hair, and a scraggly beard. And no explanation. I barely recognized him, although we had seen each other weekly before his mysterious departure.

He handed me a dog-eared, well-used paperback. I struggled to make out the title. Exodus. I looked up and he riveted me with those blazing blue eyes, those eyes so fierce they could burn a hole in a retina.

Chris had given me a copy of his book, The Mythical Quest, before he left. Why this?

He pulled a carefully folded cardboard sheet from an inner pocket and handed it to me. “This is the code.” He pointed at the tattered book of Exodus. “You’ll need both.”

I shook my head. “Why?”

“Help me back into bed.”

I tried to ask again. He shook his head and pointed at the bed.

Before he closed his eyes, he pulled a bag from his pants pocket and handed it to me. It was so hot I nearly dropped it. I tipped the bag, and a huge, glowing, uncut stone rolled into my hand. I had to look away. The color was so bright. And it was unlike anything I had seen in the light spectrum of this planet.

I set the stone on the table and helped Chris to his cot. He never opened his eyes again. His lips curled into a smile. He stopped breathing.

Okay, we’re past the opening disturbance and heading for the first plot point, the doorway of no return. We’ve studied the code and the tattered copy of Exodus. We can’t get there by plane, train, or automobile. We must hike.

What tools and supplies should we take on our journey?

Fill in any details (including why we must go), and tell us what items you will include in your backpack?

17 thoughts on “Reader Friday: Tools for the Quest”

  1. After I buried Chris out behind the cabin. I used the hot stone to light a fire and unfolded the cardboard. Printed on it was the message “Rosebud.”
    “Come on, Chris,” I said aloud. “Really?”

    Exodus weighed heavy n my hand. The answer must be in the book.

    Inside was a hollowed out cavity containing a strange rectangular plastic cartridge with two round reels inside. Vague memories from my childhood drifted back, of my grandparents sliding similar cartridges into a machine that sat on a shelf under their antique television. They told me unbelievable stories of huge long enclosed buildings, full of what they called retail stores, where thousand of people once browsed for clothes, shoes, jewelry, even books. And the most magical store of all, with rows and rows on plastic cartridges lined up on shelves.

    I laced up hiking boots and put the bright stone in my backpack. It would light my way through the dark jungle teeming with predators. I added freeze-dried food packets, water purifier tablets, and Grandpa’s Bowie knife.

    Steeling myself, I set out on my perilous journey to the land of abandoned strip malls. Somewhere in one of those vacant buildings, boarded up with plywood, I had to find the last VHS player on the planet.

    • Wonderful, Debbie. And thanks for participating in the craziness.

      The Last VHS Player. I love it. Post apocalyptic shopping malls and the quest to find the last VHS player on the planet.

      …Before I set off, I found a wild rose and laid a rosebud on Chris’s grave. “Okay, Charles Foster Kane, that VHS better be really good.”

      Have a great weekend and a wonderful writer’s conference!

    • No need to go to all that trouble, Debbie. I happen to own the last working VHS player on the planet, and I’ll be happy to lend it to you. Of course, you’ll have to make the dangerous trek to Memphis, but I’ll buy an extra bag of popcorn and we’ll watch the tape together.

  2. I opened the Book of Exodus. The introduction to the book was written in some kind of code, so I used the cardboard codebreaker to translate. Here’s what it said:

    “You will go on a forty-year journey. You will cross great rivers and walk through burning deserts. Your clothes will not wear out, food will be provided to you from heaven, and you will find water all along the way. If you follow the rules laid out in this book, you will acquire wisdom and endurance on the long trip, and you will arrive at a beautiful land where you will live in peace.”

  3. I kid you not. By some very scary coincidence, yesterday, before logging on, I came across my old list of things to assemble to cut and run. It’s quite long, with 40 entries. Items like a mat, shovel, tools, patching kit, gas can, water cans, Coleman stove, first aid kit, rope, dried food, jerky, tent, magnifier, matches, lighter, books, hammer, meds, sodium monophosphate, binoculars, carbine, revolver, ammo, cleaning rod, knife, sewing kit, scissors, buttons, trinkets, money, silver coins, socks, boots, wide brim hat, sunglasses, sun block, backpack, compass, maps, tea, teapot, camo tarp, and radio with spare batteries. This synchronicity is frightening.

    • Great minds think alike, JG. I am honored to be in your group. And that sounds like am impressive list.

      Maybe you can use a new iteration of this post for your work.

      Have a creative weekend.

  4. It’s terrifying to realize that, as a disabled old person who can’t even walk, I wouldn’t survive much more than a couple of days of such a quest – if I managed to get started.

    There’s a story I read twice because I didn’t realize until halfway through that no two stories could have the exact same plot twists: Larry Niven’s Lucifer’s Hammer. Why, because the choice near the end is to either redevelop insulin for the scientist who hold so many useful pieces of information in his head – OR protect the last (nuclear) power plant on Earth after the comet.

    The difference was to be in the worlds that might result after this choice. The diabetic scientist himself made the choice because one world was reduced to children getting awards for catching rats – vs. the possibility of retaining electricity.

    I wouldn’t make it, however much knowledge I may have stored. But I understood his choice even way back in graduate school when I was a Nuclear Engineering grad student (fusion rather than fission, but we had to take the basic courses), and healthy and able-bodied. You choose – for the future of the children.

    • Thanks for stopping by, Alicia.

      Interesting information, and the result of choices. Interesting book.

      I have a teen fantasy series where the MC has Becker Muscular Dystrophy and travels everywhere in a flying barrel cart. We need more mobility devices inspired by creative ideas for people with disabilities.

      Thanks for participating.

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