The mob turned on the remaining guards and tore them apart with their bare hands. They broke into and emptied every rail-car, and proceeded to demolish the train. In their blood-lust, the rioters trampled anyone in their way. Many were mowed down by the advancing hordes behind them. The crowd writhed like a living thing, dragging away or crushing everything in its path. Lacy saw her Mother helplessly carried away.
“Mommy!” she screamed. “They’re taking mommy!”
“Which way!” shouted Auntie Becky.
Lacy pointed toward her mother, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Sarah!” screamed Auntie Becky. She tried to move in the direction Lacy had pointed, but was driven back by the crushing bodies around them. Lacy heard the scream of police sirens, then gunfire, from far away.
In the distance hundreds of men in uniform moved on the edge of the mob. It instantly changed direction, and both she and Auntie Becky were carried along.
Lacy saw a tight knot of rioters burst forward in her mother’s direction. Her mother went down under the surging horde.
“Mommy!” She screamed again, but her mother never re-emerged.
Somehow Auntie Becky kept hold of her and they were carried out of the crowd. As soon as they were free they fled the city. Auntie Becky said it was because the government would blame them for the riot.
For a few months they lived with her father’s cousin, Ned, and his wife, on a farm on the fringes of Surrey. Ned didn’t seem to like her or Auntie Becky. Lacy overheard him complain about having to harbor fugitives from the law. He said he’d heard about the food riots, but refused to hear any of the details.
“I want to be able to say I didn’t know you were involved,” he said.
Despite Cousin Ned’s unfriendliness, Lacy liked living on the farm, and especially loved to ride the horses and work with the animals.
It all ended one day, when she heard angry shouts coming from the house, and Auntie Becky and Ned emerged in a violent argument. Auntie Becky’s face was red, and her shirt was torn. Cousin Ned had scratches on his face. Lacy never heard what the argument was about, but in the end she heard Cousin Ned scream,
“Get out! You’re not welcome in my house anymore. Get out or I’ll call the authorities!”
They fled once again, this time deep into the emptiest corner of Surrey, far from civilization. They found a secluded clearing near the river, built a tiny hut camouflaged with branches and grass, and adopted a hermit-like existence.
They lived off the land, snaring the occasional rabbit or squirrel, catching fish from the river, and foraging for nuts and berries. Sometimes they found vegetables from abandoned gardens that still grew wild among the empty houses and in the surrounding fields, and eventually even cultivated their own small garden.
Lacy winced at the recollection. The memories had faded, but the intense emotions they evoked were as strong as ever. As she had done so many times before, she suppressed the images to concentrate on the present.
Now that she had reached high ground that afforded her a good view, she pulled out the crude map Danny had drawn and studied the route to the ‘X’ marked ‘our house’.
Vancouver looked more run-down and decrepit than she remembered it. The roads weren’t well maintained, many buildings were disintegrating, and the streets were full of people who looked like they had no place else to go.
Danny had warned her to stick to the main streets, as the side streets could be dangerous. Even so the effects of poverty and homelessness were all around her. There were shanties wherever there was an open space, and the houses were fortified and almost always guarded by either humans or the ever-present guard dogs. The people she passed looked hungry and desperate. She knew about Surrey’s reputation as a tough and lawless place, but from what she could see here, these people might be better off living in Surrey.
Danny’s home was boxlike, with chipped wood siding and a peaked roof speckled with patches of moss. A single door in the center was recessed within a gable, and a single step led from the crumbling front walk to the stoop. The house was surrounded by a beaten-up wooden fence that leaned over in several places. Lacy stood frozen for several seconds, awestruck, as she tried to imagine living in such a palace.
She walked up to the gate. It was locked, but Danny had told her how to find a key by reaching through two of the slats and feeling for it in a crack between the boards. After a few minutes of searching, she located the key and entered the yard.
She scanned the surrounding houses for suspicious neighbours, but couldn’t see anybody watching. Trying her best to look as if she belonged, she strode confidently up the walk to the front door and knocked. There was no answer.
She realized that there had been a major flaw in their plan. From what Danny had told her his brother should be home from work by now. It was possible that Richard was just out on an errand or out for dinner. But it was also possible, even likely, that he wouldn’t be coming home at all – that he had gone off somewhere – searching for Danny.
She started to walk away, but realized she had nowhere to go. It was too late to head back to Surrey, and she didn’t know anyone else in Vancouver. In the end she was so exhausted she just curled into a ball on the Hampton’s stoop and went to sleep, hoping that Richard would be home soon.
When she awoke, it was dark. The nearest streetlight was a half block away, and only a few of the nearby houses had any lights on. She woke with the sense that something had disturbed her sleep – some sound, some movement. Now that she was awake, she could see the outline of a man standing only a few yards away. She looked past the figure to the gate, and remembered that she had left it open.
How could I have been so stupid! She scolded herself.
Terrified, she gathered up all her courage, and managed to speak, “Are you Mr. Hampton?”
There was a smirk behind his creepy whisper: “Yeah, that’s right, honey – I’m Mr. Hampton.” Suddenly the light from a flashlight shone in her eyes, and he approached. She hunted in panic for an escape route.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” the voice crooned. “This won’t hurt a bit.”
Lacy jumped up just as the man grabbed for her. He got hold of her right arm and tried to pin it behind her, but was hampered by the flashlight. Finally he threw it to the ground to gain use of both hands.
Remembering what Auntie Becky had taught her, Lacy did two things in quick succession: she stomped down with all her might on the top of the man’s right foot. As Auntie Becky had predicted, he screamed and doubled over in pain, letting go of her arm. She then did the second thing – she drove her knee upwards as hard as she could into the already staggering man’s nose. He screamed even louder and collapsed on the ground. He yelled,
“Jun! Jun! Get over here!”
She ran past the immobilized man and toward the open gate. Just as she reached it another man appeared, so suddenly that she ran right into his arms.
“Hi there,” the man laughed as he seized both her wrists and hauled them roughly behind her back. He stood behind her, gripping her so tightly her hands began to lose circulation. The curtains parted in the house next door. Immediately they shut again. No one was going to help her.
“Watch her, Jun,” croaked the first man. “She’s a bitch and a half!”
“What? This little thing?” laughed Jun. “Come on, Frank. She’s too sweet.” Lacy lashed her head back sharply, bloodying Jun’s nose.
“Aghhh!” he screamed and released her.
“I told you,” yelled Frank, staggering to his feet. “For fuck’s sake get ahold of her!”
She tried to run, but Jun recovered quickly and grabbed her by the arm. She kicked and screamed, but Jun was too powerful for her, and soon Frank had rushed over to help him.
“You’re damned lucky I need you to look beautiful,” said Frank, as he and Jun together threw her to the ground and began tying her hands behind her. “Otherwise, I’d beat your pretty face to a pulp.”
Lacy continued kicking, biting and screaming. Finally, she heard Frank yell, “Get the chloroform. Chloroform the bitch!”
Moments later a damp rag was pressed over her nose and mouth and a nauseating chemical stench invaded her nostrils. Soon after that, everything went black.
On the Road
Richard and Carrie pushed themselves to the limit as they hurtled down the road exiting the Wal-Mart complex. Within minutes the giant slab of the complex had shrunk into the distance.
Carrie finally slowed to a brisk but sustainable pace. “In case they
do
come after us,” she said, “we’re going to take a shortcut that I’m pretty sure none of the others know about.”
“Pretty sure? Just out of curiosity, what do you think would happen if Doyle
did
tell Tucker and they came after us?”
“I don’t know…I’d probably be put on some really unpleasant duty for a long time. They might even banish me. Stealing resources is a major offense. As for you, I don’t think there’s too much doubt.”
“What?”
She drew a finger across her throat.
“Great,” he said.
He was tense as they rode, primed for the squeal of motorbikes heading out after them, but, as Carrie had predicted, there was nothing. He saw that she was tense as well. After twenty minutes they slowed and she seemed satisfied that there would be no immediate consequences.
At their more leisurely pace, Richard was able to study their surroundings. He was impressed with the quality of the farmland through which they rode. They passed fields of vegetables – he recognized potatoes, tomatoes, corn and squash. In the distance were orchard trees and, in another direction, pastures of sheep and goats. Here and there in the fields there were people working – weeding, adjusting irrigation ditches, spreading manure. His extensive knowledge of farming techniques told him that the crops they passed were well cared for. The community had their act together in this if nothing else.
“I heard there’s a turf war going on in the Corridor,” he said.
“It ended yesterday,” Carrie said over her shoulder. “Lots of dead bodies and no real resolution, but we can get through.”
Roads in Surrey hadn’t been maintained in thirty years. The one under their wheels was crumbling and full of potholes; clumps of grass and even the occasional tree broke through the original asphalt surface. Even so they made good progress. Carrie was completely at ease, navigating the myriad twists and turns almost without thinking. They moved steadily along the crest of a ridge heading north.
As they left the farms behind, the country quickly reverted to its natural state. As in most of Surrey, the vestiges of civilization were gradually being displaced by Nature. The landscape reminded him of photographs he’d seen of ancient temples in Asia, so overgrown with foliage you had to use your imagination to picture what they must once have been.
For a moment, he tried this exercise, picturing in his mind the broad streets crowded with traffic, the brightly lit storefronts and apartment blocks, the huge big-box stores, the expansive parking lots packed with vehicles.
He thought about Keller’s speech on the train. Keller was right. Oil had been the pixie dust sustaining the magical world of their ancestors. Now the oil was gone, and that world was gone with it. It was sad to think about the works of Man dashed and turned back to nothing.
On the other hand, it was a wonderful demonstration of the resilience of Nature. Even after all the abuse heaped upon Her by Her most treacherous creation, Nature was able to recover and even thrive.
As if to confirm his observation, the countryside turned particularly beautiful as they rolled onto a wide boulevard lined with massive cottonwood trees. The puffy white seedpods of hundreds of trees floated down on them as they passed, blanketing the road in white and swirling around them like a snowstorm.
They eventually found themselves on a straight stretch of road with few potholes. It occurred to Richard that though he’d met Carrie only a couple of days earlier, it was as if he’d known her for years. He glanced across at her riding along beside him, smiling faintly, and couldn’t help comparing and contrasting her with girls he’d known in University or at the College in Vancouver.
The girls Richard had dated were most at home going to plays or museums, or getting their hair done. He smiled as he tried to imagine any of them in mortal combat.
Carrie was undeniably feminine, but she had an aggressive, almost animal quality he’d never encountered before. He knew she would never shy away from a fight, even a knockdown, drag-out brawl in the dirt. He couldn’t imagine her getting excited about fashion, and he doubted that her idea of entertainment would involve theater or museums.
The limited number of times Richard had made love, the experience had been satisfying but probably, when he thought about it, lacking a certain amount of passion.
He imagined that making love to Carrie would be a completely different experience. The thought suddenly excited him, and he longed to know the answer. He studied the rhythmic motion of her breasts as they rose and fell with her movement on the bike, the curve of her back, and the motion of her powerful thighs as she rode. His body was seized with a desire more powerful than he’d felt in years. As quickly as it formed, he put the idea out of his mind. He had more important problems right now.