Untitled Agenda 21 Sequel (9781476746852) (3 page)

“Yes.” She rummaged through a desk door. “Why?”

“We've got to get rid of him. Get him out of sight. Otherwise, they'll know his uniform was stolen. That would blow my cover. In all this chaos it will take them some time to realize he's missing.”

Together they dragged the heavy body out of her office and into the windowless shed. Dark shapes of broken equipment littered the floor and were piled against the walls. The Enforcer became just another broken shape.

“Now listen. Do what I say. Pretend I'm arresting you. Don't say a word.” He put the key to the shed in his pocket.

They left the Village together through the main entrance. Joan was in front carrying the small, shiny metal bucket by its thin handle. John, in the Enforcer's uniform, was behind her, holding the gun in full view. No one stopped them. No one would ever question the actions of an Enforcer.

He urged her forward, forcefully, with one hand on her shoulder, his face grim.

Another Enforcer, seeing John with his prisoner, made the circle sign in approval. “Looks like she was stealing. Look at all the things she has in that bucket.”

A clipboard and nourishment bottle were clearly visible above the edge.

“Taking advantage of the situation, was she?”

John said nothing but simply nodded.

“What are your orders? Hope they're tough on her.”

“Stick to the perimeter. Take her to Recycle.”

“Good. Recy is where she belongs. Any problem with the children? I hope they are all right.”

“Caretakers are with them.”

“Praise be to the Republic.”

John nodded. “Praise be to the Republic.” The other Enforcer gave the circle sign and walked back toward the Village. John felt the weight of possible discovery lift slightly. He pushed Joan forward again.

She sobbed as she walked, great heaving sobs, sucking in air to keep from collapsing upon herself. An observer might think it was because an Enforcer had captured her but in truth she cried because her world was crumbling around her. She mourned for all that had already been lost, that which could be lost in the future, and fear of the unknown.

“Keep moving, Citizen,” John said loudly. Then he whispered: “See that bus-box straight ahead? Walk behind it.”

A few steps later Joan saw why he said the hole was hidden. The bus-box, useless and unrepaired for so long, was covered with wild ivy. The wooden wheels had rotted flat against the ground. Behind it was a hole cut into the bottom of the thick wire fence.

The doorway to freedom.

E
mmy looked peaceful as she slept. Her face reminded David of a painting he had seen long ago in a book—before the books were all taken away. Her skin was so smooth, her lips so full and soft. Her arm curved around Elsa and her hand cupped Elsa's foot. David noticed the way the sunlight slipped in between the branches and danced on her hair. Hair soft as silk that curled at the ends and lay in the hollow between her cheek and shoulder. Yellow sunbeams, golden hair. He had loved her from a distance for a long time. He had ached deep inside knowing bad things were happening to her. First, both her father and her original Authority-assigned partner had died in a suspicious accident. Then her newborn was taken away. Then her mother was taken away for being non-productive. The Authorities had paired her with an immature brat who eventually deserted her. Now she was all alone in the world.

All the while, he was at a distance, watching, knowing she was alone. But he had no power to change anything. As a mere dusk-to-dawn Gatekeeper, he could only monitor people, make rounds, nothing more. His job was to report Citizens for whatever they might
do against the rules. But he had never reported anyone for anything. It wasn't in his nature.

He had felt helpless and thought he had no chance to ever be near Emmy. Gatekeepers could not socialize with Citizens. That was a rule. But she'd begun to wake up before dawn and sit in her doorway looking at the stars. When he saw her there the first time his heart had raced so quickly that he got dizzy. She had been so beautiful in the moonlight. He wanted to bring her everything she desired and spread his gifts out at her feet with a grand flourish. But what could he bring to her? He had nothing. None of the Citizens did. Finally, he risked picking flowers. The Authorities said flowers were protected, but he didn't care. He had pushed his fingers through the fence and picked the flowers growing outside the Compound. He had picked them
for her
!

He had become a Citizen who broke the rules.

He had given her his hard-boiled egg snack and watched her lips on the whiteness of the egg. When she smiled at him his heart had pounded in his ears.

And then the unbelievable happened.

The Authorities paired him with Emmy. He knew his mother had somehow manipulated the system to arrange it. She must have said the right thing to the right person. Next, his mother had hired Emmy as a night-shift Caretaker at the Children's Village so that she could be near her daughter.

What his mother had accomplished was amazing, almost magical. David wondered if other mothers would risk everything for their children. Then he looked at Emmy holding her daughter. And he knew the answer.

Emmy had been so happy about the job at the Village. She'd never held Elsa, not even when she was a newborn, but now she could nurture her, care for her, love her. Emmy's face had been joyful, radiant even, as she'd told him how it felt to have the little girl in her arms after her first shift.

But things changed. Emmy told him things weren't going well at
the Village. She said her coworkers were lazy and the children weren't thriving. Removing a child from the Village was forbidden, but Emmy had run to him last night with Elsa in her arms, explaining that the children were going to be relocated to another Compound. She said that Elsa would be gone from her forever. Her eyes were filled with fear but her voice was firm, unwavering. When she told him they were leaving, David knew he couldn't stop her. She said if he didn't come with her, she'd go on her own. No negotiations. If he wanted to be with her and Elsa then he'd have to escape right along with them. And he wanted nothing more than to be with her. In the end, there was really nothing to think about.

Now, under the low branches of a pine tree, David felt like he'd been caught in a tornado, twirled about, and set back down, dizzy and disoriented. It was all a blur: they were running, carrying Elsa, and a bundle of things Emmy had grabbed, including the treasures Emmy's mother had kept hidden from the Authorities for so many years. Then they'd set fire to the Social Update Stage using the forbidden matches from the bundle. Sounds of gunfire had mixed with screams. Finally, they'd escaped from the Compound through the hidden hole in the fence his father had created.

David shifted his weight, and tried to find a comfortable position. He wondered if his mother and father were safe. Maybe they got away, too, using that same hole. He found comfort in the thought, unlikely as it was.

Once the Authorities figured out which Citizens had disappeared, they would do everything to find them and punish them. That's just how they worked. Always punish, never reward—unless you were a snitch. Snitches thrived.

David tried desperately to sleep, but it wouldn't come. He had too much adrenaline, too much uncertainty, too much fear, too many thoughts racing through his mind. His arm throbbed like a beating drum.

How stupid he felt for running and falling like that. What if he had
been carrying Elsa? His arm hurt terribly but he didn't want Emmy to know. She didn't need anything else to worry about. Even worse, it was his right arm, his strong arm; the arm he'd need to protect them all.

Elsa was curled up like a little pink ball on Emmy's lap. Mother and child. The defender and the defenseless.

Small birds hopped freely from branch to branch in the pine tree. A fly struggled in a spider web near the sleeping boy.

David looked closely at him for the first time. He was a cute little fellow with spiky hair and a splash of freckles across the bridge of his nose and the roundest part of his cheeks. He wondered what his name was, how old he was. He struck David as a pretty spunky kid and smart, too, the way he went after their bundle when it was rolling down the hill. He saw something that needed to be done and he did it.
Maybe he's like Emmy,
he thought. She saw something that needed to be done and she did it. She'd saved Elsa from the relocation of the Children's Village. Desperation overruled danger. Love eclipsed fear.

David tried to remember the stuff he'd learned at Boy Scouts, in the before-time. Their motto had been “Always be prepared,” but he didn't feel that way now. What's safe to eat and drink? How to find shelter? He didn't realize back then how important survival skills could be. Their very lives depended on him now. Responsibility settled as heavily on his shoulders as the branches of the tree pushed against him.

Emmy was the bravest, most loving person he'd ever known. She was more than his partner. She was his wife. She was his
life
. He would do anything necessary to protect her.

Anything.

H
idden from view by the bus-box, John pushed the small metal bucket of supplies through the hole in the fence. It made a harsh, scraping sound against the concrete base and the handle caught on the cut metal wire. John pulled the handle loose and shoved the bucket through. It tipped over, and a nourishment bottle rolled out onto the ground.

Joan watched, glancing frequently over her shoulder at the fire and chaos behind her.

“I'm going through. Follow me. Hurry.” John pushed his head and shoulders through the opening, his face mere inches above the cement base, the hard concrete smell filling his nose. His sleeve caught on a sharp piece of wire; he pulled it free, tearing the sturdy fabric of the Enforcer's uniform. Once on the other side, he picked up the nourishment bottle and shoved it back into the bucket.

Joan followed, using her elbows to propel herself forward, inch by painful inch. Once she was through, John helped her stand, and tried to steady her. He put his hands on both sides of her face, tilted her head up, looked into her eyes, and whispered, “Trust me.” He held her
close a few seconds more, then took her arm, and started down the same slippery hillside that Emmeline and David had scrambled down just a few hours earlier.

They moved quickly and were soon at the edge of the stream. “David would follow this downstream. He knows that would be the smart thing to do. He'd know that it will likely lead him to a river or lake.” John looked over his shoulder as he talked. No one was following them yet. But they would be. “We'll go upstream.”

“Upstream? Why wouldn't we go in the same direction as David? Don't we want to find him?”

“We want to
protect
David. I want to throw off whoever comes to find them. Better they follow us than David and Emmeline.”

“I don't understand. Throw who off?”

Exasperated, John answered sharply. “For God's sake, Joan! You aren't thinking clearly.”

“How can I think clearly? David's gone. Emmeline's gone. Two children are missing. You keep saying ‘God' even though that word is banned.” Joan answered. “What if someone heard you?”

He set the bucket of supplies on the ground and gripped her shoulders firmly. “Look at me. Think. We're on the other side of the fence. We're already guilty of breaking every law they have.” He relaxed his grip slightly but his face was firm, his forehead furrowed. “And so are David and Emmeline. Look around you. Who is going to hear me say the word ‘God'? No one but God Himself.”

Joan looked at the dark wilderness surrounding them, her face pale.

John lowered his voice. “Do you see anyone?” She shook her head.

“Right. No one is near us now. But soon enough, trust me, Earth Protectors will be deployed to find all of us: the children, Emmeline, David, you, me. As soon as they figure out who is missing, they will hunt us down and recycle us. All of us. We have to do all we can to protect those children, protect our son, even if it means dying for them. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I understand. There's no turning back.
I'm ready to do whatever we need to do.” She stood and squared her shoulders.

“Good.”

“What's your plan?”

“Time to focus,” John's tone was suddenly decisive, businesslike. “We'll be sloppy. Leave a trail. Drop things. Break off branches. Make it easy for them to track us. Let's go.”

“It's still pretty dark and hard to see. How soon till dawn?”

“Moon's bright enough. And dawn's not far off.”

He started along the edge of the stream and Joan followed. He stopped abruptly. “Give me the bucket.” She handed it over and he rummaged through it until he felt the clipboard. Ripping off a piece of paper, he crumpled it and tossed it where it could easily be seen.

They walked on a little farther. The paper, lifted by a small breeze, rolled into a stand of high weeds, partially hidden.

“And if they do follow us, what can we do?”

“We have two guns. We can protect ourselves. Emmeline and David most likely can't.” He broke off a small branch overhanging the stream. It dangled there, useless as a broken crutch.

They walked slowly through the darkness.

Dawn came. They walked faster.

When the sun was directly overhead, they sat briefly in the woods beside the stream.

“It's not going to take them very long to figure out we're missing,” Joan said.

He thought for a moment. “I don't know about that. They didn't have any control of the situation, from what I saw. Things broke down pretty quickly. But, yes, eventually they'll know we're gone. It's inevitable. I just think it might take some time.”