Untitled Agenda 21 Sequel (9781476746852) (10 page)

She took a berry from his hand and ate it, then shifted her weight forward, her red-stained fingers on her knees.

“A baby, too?”

“Yes, a baby, too. Do you like the berries? Strawberry season will be over in a couple of weeks.” He hoped this would be one of the times when the thread of a conversation would unravel in her mind and trail off. He wished she had not seen those people, wished she had looked at the sky and clouds instead. Look up, not down. Always look to the heavens.

But she continued. “Can we go talk to them? It's been a long time since we've seen children.”

“Yes, a long time. Do you like the berries?”

“Of course I like the berries.” She sounded impatient. “Can we go talk to them?”

“No.” He clenched his hands together briefly, his large knuckles white from the pressure. He scratched at a red welt on his arm where a bee had stung him. There must be a wild hive nearby, probably in a hollow oak. He'd find it and would harvest the honey. They only had about a half-cup of honey left. In fact, all their supplies were running very low even though they had carefully rationed them. At least it was springtime. He knew they could they could survive through to early fall by foraging and preserving what they could. But he dreaded the winter. There were always animals to kill and eat, but once it turned cold, not many plants. Pine nuts and acorns, maybe, but not much else.

“Why not?” She wet her finger in her mouth and rubbed it on his welt. “Does that feel better?”

“It's too risky to approach them.”

“Now you're being silly. Look at them. A woman, a man, a baby, and a boy. It is a boy, isn't it?” She squinted and peered down at the people huddled under that rock. “Yes, I'm sure it's a boy. Besides, there haven't been Earth Protectors here for a long time.” She was breathless, her words tumbling over each other.

He looked up. There was nothing to see but early-morning sky through the branches of the trees. No clouds. There would be a full moon tonight, which meant no foraging. It wouldn't be dark enough to risk venturing out.

“Ingrid, I don't want to talk to them. It's too risky. And that's final.” He felt cold, talking to her like she was a child. Who was he to decide what was final? He brushed away a bluebottle fly hovering over her head. When had her hair gotten so gray? It had happened strand by strand, stealthy but constant. Just as time marched forward day by day: stealthy but constant.

He shifted his position to allow a little more of the rising sun on his
feet. Some days he desperately wanted to wash all the mud from his body, strip off his clothes, and lie naked in the sunshine. Just lie there, splayed out, chin tilted, neck exposed, eyes closed, and soak it in. Let the golden warmth wash over him, cleanse him.

“Why is it risky?”

He sighed. She wasn't going to let go of this. “Because we would have to cross the bridge to get to them. And then what would we do with them? Bring them back here?”

“Oh,” she said. Her shoulders sagged, the neckline of the dress draped lower. The skin of her chest was mottled with purple cobweb veins like small bruises, and brown splotches of age.

Once they had carried the last of their supplies over that bridge and into their hiding place, they had never crossed it again. There was no reason to and it would leave them too vulnerable. Anybody up- or downstream could see them.

“But there's nobody around. There hasn't been anybody around for the longest time.” She plucked a piece of grass and used it to clean between her teeth. “And I'm lonely.”

“Being lonely is no reason to take risks.” He took her hand in his. “We've been careful all this time and we've been safe. Trust me.”

“I still want to talk to them.” Her voice was low, pouty. “Maybe they need us. Maybe they escaped somehow.”

“All the more reason to stay away. If they escaped, Earth Protectors will be looking for them.”

“Well, then, we could help them hide.” She clapped her hands together, childlike. “That's it! We could hide them. We could save them!”

He looked at her. How happy she was at that moment of discovery, a moment in which she felt like she had a purpose. His eyes watered. This was like his Ingrid of the past.

We could save them
.

“You really believe we can save them?” he asked her, his milky blue eyes looking into hers.

“I believe we can try.” She gazed back at him, not blinking. “What are we if we don't try? Not to act
is
to act. You know that.”

He held out his hand, helping her stand. Together they walked over the bridge they hadn't crossed in nearly two decades, toward a group of strangers on the other side.

Strangers they might be able to save.

T
here it was again: movement. I leaned forward and squinted. Oh, dear sweet Jesus, what was that? Who was that walking across the structure that spanned the river? I glanced at David, Elsa, and Micah. They were all still sleeping; they looked so thin and pale. Elsa's legs would soon lose their chubbiness. Micah's arms would soon look like twigs. We simply were not getting enough calories with the few edible things we found. Would I be strong enough to deal with these people if they posed a threat? I'd have to be. I had no choice.

I slipped my hand into one of the bundles and felt around for the cold hardness of the knife, and the release button on the side.

Crawling out from the overhanging rock on my hands and knees, I watched as the two people continued walking over the span. They looked old and dirty. Both had long hair. It was a man and a woman, holding hands, close enough now that I could make out their mud-covered faces and thin, frayed clothing.

I moved away from the hiding place, away from my little family and out into the open. I pushed the release button and the knife blade flashed out with a harsh metallic click. No one, absolutely no one, would hurt my family. I would do whatever it took.

They were at the end of the span, walking down toward me with their hands held out in front of them, reaching out to me with their palms up and fingers outstretched. I held the knife in front of me, my arm extended. Sunlight reflected off the blade, flashing sparks of light.

“We mean you no harm,” the man said.

“Stay back,” I said. “Stay back. Come no closer.” I didn't want them to see my family. Surely, they were well hidden by the rock. How foolish I had been to go to the river, exposed and unprotected!

I walked cautiously toward them, trying to measure their intent. Who were they and where did they come from? Finally, I was within a few feet of them, close enough to see their pale blue eyes, and the knotty veins in their thin arms.

“Sit, child. Talk to us,” the woman said, a bit out of breath, as she lowered herself onto a log. She folded her legs feebly in front of her. The man, shoulders hunched, remained standing beside her.

“Who are you?” I asked. “And what do you want?”

“I'm Ingrid,” the woman said, pointing to herself. “And this is my husband, Paul.”

“What do you want?” I asked again.

“Won't you sit and talk?” Ingrid asked. “What is your name, child?”

“No, I will not sit. I want to know what you want. I want to know who you are, what you are doing here.”

“We're surviving,” Paul said. “That's all. Surviving. Just like you're trying to do.”

“How do you know what I'm trying to do? How do you know anything about me?”

Paul sat beside his wife on the log, his thin legs stretched in front of him. He had no shoes; the soles of his feet were thick with calluses, his toenails long yellow horns. “You must have escaped somehow. Lord only knows how. But sooner or later, you'll get caught. They all do eventually. They are nothing if not persistent and ruthless.”

“Just where are you from?” I asked, my hand shaking. “What are you doing here?”

“We slipped away a year before the relocations and we've been surviving the best we can ever since,” Ingrid said. “Aren't you frightened that they'll find you? They're probably already searching.” She turned to her husband. “What are they called? The ones who search? What are they called?”

“Earth Protectors,” he answered, patiently. “From the Earth Protection Agency.”

I remembered the voices of the men we heard the first day of our escape. They had said, “There will be hell to pay. They'll call in Earth Protectors.” And this man and woman claimed to be shadow people, those who had run away. Could I trust them?

“Maybe you're part of them. Maybe you're disguised so you can fool us. Maybe I'm in danger right now, talking to you.” My extended arm was getting tired; I switched the knife to my other hand.

“Yes, we're all in danger right now, out here in the open. Let us help hide you. We mean no harm to you,” Paul told her. He placed his right hand flat against his chest. “I promise you.”

“Why do you want to help me? If they're looking for me and you help me, well, isn't that dangerous for you?”

“We've been safe all these years. We want the same safety for you.”

“Why? Why do you care about me? What am I to you?” I heard a twig snap behind me and turned my head. Micah was approaching. No, no, no. “Go back!”

He shook his head and kept coming.

“Go back, now!”

“Elsa needs you,” he said. “She's crying really, really hard.” The sound of the rushing water was loud; I couldn't hear the baby's cries but I believed Micah.

“We don't just care about
you
,” Paul said. “We care about
all of you
. Let us help.”

“You saw us? You saw
all
of us?” It would have been easy for them to see me, out in the open by the river, but I had chosen that hiding place, certain we could not be seen. I had failed.

“Yes. And if we could find you, then soon the searchers will, too. You, the man, and most important, the children,” Paul said.

“Yes, the children. They're the most important among us.” Ingrid said. “Go. Get the crying child. Bring your man. We can see that he is sick. Let us help you. Follow us. We have a safe place where you can all rest.” She made a strange motion: she touched a finger to her forehead, then her chest, then her right shoulder, then the left.

I waited, expecting to see the woman make the circle sign or recite the Pledge. But it never came.

Micah tugged on my arm. “Elsa's crying really, really hard,” he said again, his small face furrowed with worry.

I stood silently for a moment, thinking. David was indeed sick and we were all weak from hunger. I had no option but to trust these strangers.

The knife was still pointed at Ingrid and Paul. In one quick motion, I snapped it closed and slipped it into my pocket, then nodded at the couple and turned back toward the rock; Micah followed.

David was awake now and trying to comfort Elsa. I took her from him and patted her back. “
Shhh. Shhhh
.” Elsa's sobs subsided to a pitiful whimper.

“Follow me,” I told him. Micah helped David stand; he was unsteady on his feet and put his good hand on the rock for support. I saw how dry his lips were, how sunken his eyes had become. Micah picked up one bundle; I picked up the other with my free hand.

“Where are we going?” David asked. “I can't walk much farther.”

My chest tightened. Elsa's crying, David's unsteadiness, and my own hunger and fatigue were combining to make me desperate.

“There's a man and a woman out there. They saw us.”

David raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

“I saw them, too,” Micah said. “They're dirty and old. I never saw anybody so old.” Of course he hadn't. Old people had no value to the Authorities. Old people were recycled to free up resources for the young and productive.

“I think they're shadow people,” I said. “I remember when you told me about them, back in the Compound. You said they slipped away before the relocations.”

“All these years? And they survived?” David's voice had a croaky quality. He swallowed hard as if to clear his throat. He adjusted the strap of his sling. I could see the raw, red welt where it had rubbed the back of his neck. He was still holding onto the rock, still trying to steady himself.

“They said they want to help us. They said we could trust them.”

David looked at me. “Do you?”

“We have no other choice. We'll die under this rock if we don't take a chance.”

I carried Elsa and dragged one bundle behind me, feeling it catch on the uneven ground. Micah dragged the other one and let David lean on him for support. Together we left the deceptive security of the rock, stepped into the open, and walked toward the shadow people.

T
he old couple silently led the way and we straggled behind, our feet almost too heavy to lift. Before I awkwardly climbed the slope to walk on the span, I dipped my headscarf in the water. Elsa sucked eagerly on the cold, dirty fabric, her cheeks pulling frantically, her eyes squeezed closed.

“A bridge,” David said, sounding surprised.

“A what?” I asked.

“This.” He pointed at the span. “A metal bridge. Rusty, but still standing.” A broken metal plate fastened to the railing read
Loyalha Bridg Weig Limi
. The right side of the plate was broken off, the edge ragged and rusted.

So, this was a bridge and we were about to walk on it. For the first time on our journey, there was no need to wade through the rough water to get to the other side. What a marvelous idea. Who had thought of it? Who built it? The sounds of our shuffling footsteps echoed around us; the water rushed below us. Micah was wide-eyed, taking it all in.

“Look!” he exclaimed. “We're way up above the water.” The novelty
of this seemed to give him more energy and he began to hop up and down on two feet. The bridge rocked and screeched with his enthusiasm.