Untitled Agenda 21 Sequel (9781476746852) (8 page)

“It's a place with lots of rain and lots of trees.”

“Are there Compounds there?”

“Yes. The whole world has Compounds.” David turned the page of the book. “Let's not talk about Compounds right now. Let's read.”

I smiled watching them. Micah was so eager to learn. David was always
patient, even when he didn't feel well. I remembered trying to ask Mother questions so I could learn. That was back in the Compounds, where everything, even questions and answers, were so tightly controlled. I remembered the first time I had seen Micah in the Children's Village classroom, standing with the other children reciting
I pledge allegiance to the Earth
. They were all so solemn, with their thumbs and forefingers making the circle sign on their foreheads. All except Micah. He was grinning and making the circle sign on his nose until the Caretaker sternly rebuked him. His grin had faded quickly.

I sat, holding Elsa, listening to David and Micah whispering, and almost felt safe. Safe enough to open our bundle and look at the other things Mother had saved. I held the recipe cards one by one to my nose, trying to catch the scent of pumpkin pie or vegetable soup. David had told me his memories of Thanksgiving before the relocations: eating a big meal with family and giving thanks for the good things in their lives. He said pumpkin pie smelled like Thanksgiving. If the recipe cards ever held any scents, they had faded long ago. Would I ever be able to give thanks like they did in the before-time? If I did, what would I be most thankful for?

Dear, sweet Jesus, I'd be thankful for freedom. Mother used to say “Dear sweet Jesus” when she was upset or afraid. I still didn't know what those words meant, but they seemed to fit.

The picture Mother had tucked into
The Little Prince
, the one I had drawn of the Little Prince looking up at a star, fell out of the book. Micah picked it up, holding it carefully by its edge.

“She drew that,” David whispered, motioning to me.

“You did?” Micah asked, eyes wide.

I nodded.

“Can you teach me? Please?”

I smiled and stroked his cheek. “Yes. Someday.” I tried to sound confident, but I wondered if that someday would ever really come. That truly would be something to be thankful for. Something as simple
as a pencil and clean, blank sheet of paper to be filled with a child's imagination would be a blessing. I would let Micah draw whatever he wanted. No rules.
Draw what you want to draw
. That's what I would say to him. Every child could be an artist. Every child
is
an artist until a grown-up tells them they're not.

David read on.

I put the recipe cards back, pulled out the New Testament, and turned the fragile pages. Why had Mother saved this?
Save what you think you are going to lose
. I slid it carefully back into our bundle. Someday, when the running and hiding was over, I would read this. Someday.

We should have been sleeping but instead we sat huddled behind the shrubs, afraid to make any moves or noises.

I peeked over the leaves again. The workers had reached the end of another row. A guard blew a whistle and they did the bending and stretching again, then marched single file toward new rows. They now had their backs toward us again, and were farther away from the tight, straight line of tents that must have been their lodgings. The sun was high overhead. We were all sweating, David more than any of us. Maybe . . . A thought came to me.

I knew what I had to do. We needed food and clothes. We couldn't survive much longer without them. The tents would house supplies we could use. Maybe some morsel of food would be left on plants near the tents.

I whispered to David. I would run, cross the stream, sneak into a few tents, grab whatever I could. The guards were made complacent by their guns and never looked around. They simply moved forward with the workers. They did not worry like we did about what could be shifting in the shadows.

David gripped my arm and shook his head no. “Too dangerous,” he said. His lips were thin, tight lines of disapproval.

I pulled my arm away. Was he not as hungry as I was? Couldn't he
see the children's discomfort? Nothing could stop me; my mind was made up. I shook my head, then bent low in front of the shrubs and ran into the water, fighting the current, slipping, stumbling, but never stopping.

I heard splashing sounds behind me and turned. Micah was crossing the stream with me, his face determined, though the water reached his chest.

I stopped and waited for him to catch up. “Go back,” I told him. “It's too dangerous.”

“I can run fast,” he said. “And two of us can get more than just you by yourself.” His jaw was set firmly, the sprinkle of freckles across his nose darker than usual against his pale face. He was right. Going back was not an option for either of us.

I grabbed his hand tightly. Together we moved forward through the water.

The stream had widened greatly since the beginning of our journey. David told me it was now a river, shallow right now, but it would get deeper. The banks on each side had gotten higher and steeper the farther we traveled. The water was faster, too. It churned with a constant low roar, like an animal stalking its prey. The current was powerful, trying to push us sideways. Each step forward was a struggle, and my leg muscles ached and burned in spite of the cold water.

Finally on the other side, we rested. I heard myself breathe, great gasps, sucking in as much air as possible each time. Micah was breathing hard too, his little shoulders pulling up with each inhale; his lips pursed with each exhale.

From here, we could see the patch of shrubbery where I knew David and Elsa were hiding. Good, we couldn't see them; they were well concealed.

We had to search quickly for whatever we could find.

Drenched and shivering, Micah and I slowly pushed ourselves up onto our hands and knees, then crawled up the steep bank until we
could see over the edge. I had mud under my fingernails. One thumbnail was broken off, the edge ragged. Blood spotted my cuticle.

The workers were not quite halfway to the end of their long rows; their backs still toward us. The tents were about ten yards from the edge of the bank. I nodded at Micah and he nodded in return. We were ready, both of us. Scampering, I ran behind one tent, he to the one next to it. The fabric was heavy, pegged into the ground at the corners. I tried lifting the edge but it wouldn't budge. Micah pulled on one his tent pegs, then pushed it back and forth, his thin arms straining. The peg made a squeaking sound as he worked it loose. He pulled it out of the ground; the muddy tip of it had been whittled into a sharp point. He lifted the edge of the tent and slipped inside. I managed to loosen a peg just as he had, my hands gripping the wood until my knuckles were white. I almost fell backward when it suddenly came out of the ground. I quickly slipped into the tent.

Inside, it was dark and smelled of dirt and sweat. I could make out a sleeping mat, and under it, a rubber mat to keep the dampness from seeping through. There was a basin full of cold water and, beside it, a bottle of sanitizing solution. Folded in the corner was an extra uniform and sleeping clothes.

I dumped the cold water out of the basin and loaded the clothes and sanitizing solution into it. I shoved the basin out of the tent and looked around. What else? What else could I take? The rubber mat! Surely that could be useful. I pushed the sleeping mat aside and rolled up the stretch of rubber. Finally, I threw the sharp wooden peg into the basin. When you have nothing, everything becomes a necessity.

I slipped back out with the rubber mat under my arm. Outside the other tent, Micah had piled a rolled-up blanket and another bottle of sanitizing solution. I crawled over to his tent and looked inside. He wasn't there. Where was he?

Frantic, I whispered his name, “Micah.” No answer. I whispered again, a little louder. No answer. From between the tents, I could see
the workers, backs still toward us, moving closer to the ends of their rows, closer to the bus-box. Soon they would turn and be facing us.

I slipped between the tents, and crawled toward the field. Micah was there, at the edge of a row of plants, picking something and quickly, ravenously, putting it in his mouth, his little jaw moving as fast as his fingers could pick. Even when I whispered his name a little louder, he didn't look up, didn't respond. Putting food in his mouth was all he cared about.

On my hands and knees, I moved close enough to touch his arm. He jumped, startled and looked around, dazed, as though he couldn't figure out where he was and what he was doing. Then he relaxed, smiled at me, and handed me something. It was about three inches long, narrow, and dark green, with bits of dirt on it. He motioned for me to put it in my mouth.

I bit down on it and it crunched, the taste exploding in my mouth. It was so good. I didn't mind the dirt. Even
that
tasted good. My throat was dry as I swallowed. I could see lots more of the same thing on the green vines around us, food the workers had missed.

I could see that the workers were just a little distance from the end of the rows where they would turn and face us. As quickly as I could, I pulled more and more of the green things from the plants and shoved them in the pockets of my uniform. Micah, seeing what I was doing, started stuffing his pockets, too. We would bring food to David and Elsa. My heart was beating hard, and fast, and my hands were shaking. Food. Oh, dear sweet Jesus, food.

Then the whistle blew and the workers straightened up. The routine of bending, stretching, moving their arms in circles began and ended. We had just a little time before they would turn and head in our direction.

Their picking resumed. I motioned to Micah; we needed to leave, go back across the river. As we scuttled backward toward the tents with our loot, I saw a female worker fall to the ground with a heavy thud
and lie motionless. Her headscarf lay in the dirt beside her. Had she fainted? Died? I stared in horror, unable to blink.

A guard walked over to her and shook her roughly. She did not respond, but stayed motionless, facedown on the ground, her arms outstretched. The guard kicked the woman and shouted at her, but still she did not respond. The others appeared not to notice anything, but picked with their heads down, except for one of them, the bigger man I had noticed before. He took an awkward step over a row of plants, toward the woman on the ground. His one leg appeared to be dragging. A nearby guard pointed his gun at him and the big man retreated back to his place in his assigned row.

How could the rest of them ignore this? How could they just keep their heads down as if nothing was happening? They just kept bending and picking, bending and picking, like machines.

Two guards grabbed the woman by her arms and dragged her, limp and lifeless, to the bus-box. The Transport Team, six men in harnesses like horses, stood silent, staring straight ahead. With great effort, the guards threw her body into the bus-box, where it lay on top of the pile of food that had been picked.

Micah was watching, his eyes wide. “Can we help her?” he whispered. I put my hands over his eyes. A child should never have to see this kind of inhumanity. No one should.

I felt the need to run to her but knew we were helpless to do anything. There were guards with guns. A few guards with guns controlled the many without. Tears burned hot behind my eyelids and I fought the nausea gripping me.

“Not today, Micah,” I whispered back.

As we struggled back to David and Elsa, our arms and pockets full of stolen treasures, I hoped that someday, somehow, I would be able to offer help to anyone who needed it. But today, I could help only those closest to my heart: David, Elsa, and Micah. For now, they were my entire world.

H
olding our precious contraband tightly, Micah and I slid down the bank and began sloshing through the water. Our arms were too full; I couldn't hold his hand. The current was stiff, pushing us sideways against the large rocks that jutted out of the water. The rush of water was like an angry, constant roar. I feared Micah would slip and fall; to save him I'd have to drop everything into the cold water, but I 
would
save him. I couldn't help hearing Mother's voice in my head:
You save what you think you're going to lose
. I couldn't lose this boy. He had faith in me.

One of the green things in my pocket floated out and tumbled end over end in the current. Something, a fish maybe, splashed through the surface and the green thing disappeared. We were more than halfway across. The water was becoming shallower and we could move a little more quickly.

Finally, we were out, at the top of the bank, back behind the shrubs. Elsa was lying on her back in the grass and rolled onto her side when she saw me. She pushed with her arms and sat up. Dropping what I carried, I scooped her up and held her tight. She gave a little coo,
then squirmed to be put back down. David was flushed red, sweating and holding his arm.

“I tried watching as much as I could over the top of the shrub but after a while I had to lie down. Did anyone see you?” he asked.

“No, nobody saw us. But we can't stay here,” I said. “They're soon going to know someone took their supplies.”

Micah pulled a green thing out of his pocket and held it out to David with a proud little smile.

David raised his eyebrows. “A pea!” he said, stuffing it quickly into his mouth.

I spread out everything we had for David to look at and we emptied our pockets of the peas, making a little heap of them. David winced every time he had to stop cradling his arm to reach for a pea. I looked at what we had taken from the tents. I needed to make some sort of harness for him.

The rubber mat! Maybe I could make something out of that. I felt around in our bundle and pulled out the knife. How much of the mat would I need? I held it up against his forearm; the width was perfect. I cut through the mat, slicing off a wide piece.
Thank you, Mother, for this knife
. David watched, puzzled. Now, how could I fasten it? I needed straps of some sort. I had to work quickly so we could leave this area as soon as possible. David might be able to walk faster if his arm was supported.