Untitled Agenda 21 Sequel (9781476746852) (20 page)

“What are you waiting on?”

“I'm waiting on you, David. I need your help deciding. It's too big for me to decide alone. We have to do this together. We have to be a team.”

“What are our choices?”

“One choice is to do nothing.” Doing nothing would mean I didn't have the courage of my convictions, of my belief in freedom. But I didn't say that out loud.

“That sounds the safest. But what other choices do we have?”

“We go back without Elsa and cut off the ball and chain. He'd be free but that wouldn't give him a chance to see his daughter.”

“And what would stop him from following us so he could see Elsa? He'd follow us, the guards would follow him, and that would be the end of Paul and Ingrid and our entire family.” He began pacing. “There's got to be a way to do this without risking so much.”

“How are we going to know what to do; what's right?” I asked him.

“Paul always says look to the heavens.”

“Then we should ask Paul for advice.”

He smiled and touched my cheek with his hand. “I think we can ask him in the morning. And we can make our decision after that.”

Morning, when the sun rises with the promise of a new day, would be the best time to make a decision.

I
n the morning I tended to David's arm. Ingrid stood by, watching. As I unwrapped the dressing, she chewed on her lower lip, her teeth pressed so tightly that her lip turned white. When David's wound was visible, she clapped her hands and made a cooing sound. “Oh, that looks good! I'll go make him some more thyme tea.”

Indeed, the wound was healing nicely with the edges coming together. This would probably be the last day he'd need to wear dressings. David was well enough that we could move on as soon as the issue with George was settled.

Micah busied himself with his newfound chores, bustling about finding dry wood for the fire pit, checking the traps for rabbits or squirrels. He chased down crickets and other insects for a crunchy breakfast, and presented them to us in a small bowl, smiling proudly, even though we each only got one. We washed them down with the water, milk, sugar drink. Elsa gurgled with baby talk.

I went to the stream, careful to walk on the stones Paul had placed, and rinsed our meager changes of clothing while I watched the fish rise to the top of the water with mouths wide open for insects, and
gulp them down. As I splashed the clothing in the cold water, I looked upstream and downstream, watching for anything out of place, any strange movement or sound. No matter how far away I was from the Compound, being watchful was a habit I would never lose.

Paul helped me drape the wet clothing over the vines behind the latrine. If it didn't rain, everything would be dry by afternoon.

Breakfast was over, Ingrid's hair was braided, and all of our chores were done. The day stretched ahead, hours to be filled, decisions to be made. Elsa busied herself with Ingrid's pots and pans, her little fingers picking them up, setting them down, and nesting small things in large things. Sometimes she'd throw one of the smaller cups and then crawl after it. I loved looking at her perfect little feet as she churned forward.

Micah approached Paul with a worried look. “The traps were empty this morning.”

“Not to worry, Micah, they often are. Maybe they'll be full later today. And don't forget, there are lots of fish for us to catch. We'll be fine.”

Ingrid came out of the cave and propped her broom by the entrance. “Dandelion blooming time is about over,” she told Micah. “So let's go find some this morning while they still have their yellow flowers.”

David, Paul, and I sat there, wondering who should speak first on the subject of George.

Elsa picked up a small cup, crawled to Paul, and held it up to him.

“Why, thank you, precious.” He took the cup, pretended to drink, and handed it back to her.

“She is precious,” David said. “Just like her mom.” He smiled at me so broadly that his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“So, tell me,” Paul said, “what did you both decide to do?”

“We haven't decided.” I took the cup Elsa was holding out to me and pretended to drink from it. She gave me a baby grin, the little white tooth buds shining.

“We have some options. But none of them seemed quite right,” David said.

“So, tell me what you are thinking.”

I listed all the potential plans we had discussed. Paul listened intently as I talked, his eyes never leaving my face.

“May I comment on your ideas and suggest another option?” Paul asked.

“We were hoping you would,” David answered him.

“Option one. Do nothing. I don't think Emmy would be happy ignoring that man's need for freedom. She values freedom too much, for herself and for others.”

I nodded in quiet agreement.

“The second one. Free him but deny him seeing Elsa, the one thing that apparently is still important to him. Sentencing him to always wonder about her, is she alive, is she well? That would be merely an artificial freedom.”

David and I glanced at each other. Paul made sense.

“The last one. Take Elsa to him and free him based on a promise never to lead anyone to her or us. That's too dangerous. Carrying that child through the woods at night to the farm commune? Who knows what could go wrong with that? At the very least, she might cry from being carried for so long and someone would hear her. I say no to that idea. You've risked too much to expose Elsa to that kind of danger.”

That left us with no options and I shook my head in bewilderment.

David said what I was thinking. “Then nothing works?”

“I have another idea. I'll go to the farm commune, alone. I will speak with this man and use my judgment on his character. If I judge him trustworthy, I will free him and bring him here to see the child.”

“Bring him here? What if you're followed?” David asked.

“David, I've never been followed after I foraged. Never. So I'm not worried about that. Trust me.” His voice had a sharp steely tone.

“I'll go with you!” David said.

“No. I'll go alone.”

“But why go alone? What if something happens to you?”

“What might happen to me?” Paul asked, serene once more.

“You might get hurt. Or lost.”

“David, I'll do my best not to get hurt. And as for getting lost, I've gone there many times and I know the way. I follow the stars. Men have been following the stars since the beginning of time.”

“What if he harms you in some way?”

I had to speak up. “David, he would never hurt Paul. He would have no reason to hurt him. It's not in his nature. And besides, if he hurt Paul, Paul wouldn't lead him back here.”

We sat quietly for a few minutes. The music of the forest was all around us.

“You need to stay here, and make sure the women and children are safe.” Paul was firm on this; I could tell from looking at his face. There would be no further negotiations.

“When would you go?” I asked.

“When conditions are right. When the stars are right but the sky's partially overcast. I'll know. It might be tomorrow night or it might be several nights from now.”

“Sooner is better,” I said. If it was several nights, that meant travel time lost, never to be recovered.

“A great storm is coming tonight. I can feel it in my bones. When I go depends on the weather.”

“Why would you do this, going to the farm commune, risking so much?” I asked.

“Why? Because I can and because it's important to you, Emmeline.”

His answer left me speechless. I felt gratitude wash over and through me, warm and soft.

David looked at me and smiled. He liked Paul's idea.

And maybe, just maybe, it would work.

“S
top!” Joan called to John. “Listen!”

He turned to her, a puzzled look on his face, and put his finger to his lips, reminding her to be quiet. She touched her ear, then cupped her hand around it, signaling for him to listen. He cocked his head to the side for a moment, then shrugged. She listened, too, but heard nothing more than the noises of nature all around them. Bees, birds, breeze. But there
had
been a sound, a sound of a human being. She was sure of that. As sure as she had ever been of anything. A person was in need, somewhere, within the range of her hearing, and the sound was coming from the other side of the stream.

John walked back to her. “I heard something,” she whispered.

“What?”

“A person. I think it was a woman. Crying, I think, or calling out.” She pointed across the stream. “From over there, somewhere.”

He put his hand above his eyes, shielding them from the sun, and peered intently in the direction she had pointed.

“I don't see anything.”

“Neither do I, but I'm telling you, I heard something!” She wanted
to search for the source of that noise and she wanted to do it now. “Maybe it was David or Emmeline.”

“I don't hear or see anything. Do you think maybe you imagined it? Maybe it was an animal.”

She moved closer to him, and touched his shoulder. “Look at me! I didn't imagine it. And it wasn't an animal. We're not alone here. Someone is over there. It sounded like a woman.” Her chest tightened with the thought. If it was Emmeline, why was she calling out? Was David with her? If he was with her, why would she scream? The back of Joan's eyelids felt hot, and tears throbbed against them. “Please, John, trust me on this.”

She could see his face soften, the frown lines smooth, and his shoulders relax. He gave a little nod of his head, took her hand, and together they headed back toward the stream.

Soon they were at the edge of the shallow water. Joan plunged across, not caring if her shoes got wet. They were pretty much worn out from walking on the rough, stony ground anyway. John was right beside her, his rolled-up Transport uniform hidden under the stolen Enforcer's uniform. Joan's white garments were stained green from moss and grass, and brown from dirt. The Earth's colors had rubbed into the fabric. Her headscarf was draped around her neck and dangled down her chest.

On the other side, they scanned the area but saw nothing. There was no sign of anyone.

Risking all, she called out softly. “Hello? Hello?”

No response.

John surprised Joan. He actually shouted. “Hello! Hello!” That was the loudest sound she had heard since the chaos and gunfire the night they escaped from the Compound. Then silence settled briefly around them. Even the birds were quiet.

Then they heard a response, a faint, faraway plea. “Help.”

They headed toward that sound, running, not caring how rocky
it was, not caring that their feet hurt. They only cared that someone needed help.

Then they saw her in the distance, lying on the ground. It was a woman with dark hair—not Emmeline. She pushed herself into a sitting position, watched them coming toward her.

When Joan and John were just a few steps away, the woman made the circle sign on her forehead, then put her hands up, as though surrendering. Joan glanced at John. His face was pale, his lips tight.

She was in the Earth Protection uniform.

He was in the Enforcers uniform.

Joan was the only one in clothing that didn't signify power.

Even here, in the Human Free Zone, uniforms had meaning.

J
ohn wondered who this woman was. What was she doing here? Was she really one of the Earth Protectors? She must be, her uniform had the logo on it. Why was she alone? They always traveled in teams. Always. Then John noticed her ankle. On the outside it was swollen and a painful-looking dark blue. She probably couldn't walk on it, or, if she could bear weight, she'd walk slowly. Either way, she wouldn't be productive. But still, where was the rest of the team? Surely they didn't just leave her here alone. John looked around the area, scanning for any other Earth Protectors. He saw no one. The woman just sat there, staring at John, her hands still raised, her lips trembling. Her face was eggshell-white with fear.

The oddity of the situation settled heavily on John's shoulders, weighing him down as if forcing him into the ground, planting him like a tree in the wilderness.

Joan spoke first, breaking the silence. “Who are you?” she asked the woman. She knelt beside her and tried to make eye contact. The woman turned her face slightly, meeting Joan's gaze briefly.

“My name is Julia.” Her voice was low, no louder than a whisper,
but the quiver in it was louder than the words themselves. Then she turned back to look at John with that same frightened yet defiant look.

Joan spoke again. “My name is Joan.” She reached over and gently touched the swollen ankle.

“Does it hurt?”

Julia nodded and a slow, shining tear slid down her face. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. John could clearly see her red, scraped knees through her ripped trousers and the blood on her hands. There was no way she could harm either of them. No way. Joan must have sensed that Julia was far more vulnerable than them, despite her uniform.

“You can put your hands down.” Joan reached up and gently lowered one of Julia's hands and cradled it in her own. “I mean you no harm.” Julia put her other hand down, dipped it in the water, and splashed some on her face. Strands of dark hair clung to her cheek; she pushed it behind her ear with a smooth motion.

“How did you hurt your ankle?” Joan's voice was soothing, motherly.

“I fell.” Julia reached down and touched her injury with one finger. “I was running and I fell.”

“Why were you running?”

Julia shrugged and didn't answer. John looked around again for the Earth Protectors. The team must be nearby, he supposed. But all he saw were trees, squirrels, and helter-skelter piles of fallen, rotting logs. A large turtle, with random brown and dull copper markings on the dome of its shell, lay in the shade on a bed of leaves. John almost didn't see it because the shell was perfect camouflage, protecting it by using the colors of the wilderness. But the movement of its outstretched head and neck caught John's eye. That was the secret to survival out here: blend in. John was grateful for the dark Enforcer's uniform he was wearing, and Julia's camouflage was perfect for this area. Joan's clothing, even though it was dirty, was still far too white.