by Hannah Ross
"It won't do," Natalie said. "It won't do."
Disappointed, Rebecca asked, "But why? Don't you think this has a potential to be a good story? More than a good story? An important one? Don't you think it's something that should be discussed?"
"It's not for me to discuss the Decree of Population Control." She sounded cool and distant.
Rebecca studied her face for a few seconds. "You're afraid."
"Why do you sound so surprised? Sure, I want stories that spread like wildfire. I want to expose hidden truths and shock people. I want to be contrary. That's what running a newspaper is all about. But more than that, I want to keep my job."
Natalie was not smiling anymore. She looked determined and defiant and a little ashamed of herself.
"So you're saying those who discuss the Decree of Population Control don't get to keep their jobs?"
"Are you just asking out of curiosity, or do you want to know if you should risk it? Do you think you're the only one who has ever asked these questions, Rebecca? You're not. People have done this before. We have freedom of speech in this country, and a pretty wide field to play in. But this field has boundaries."
"Just like our inhabited area has a Boundary."
"Exactly. And except for a few adventurers who are fond of risking their skins, people have no desire to find out what life is like on the other side of the Boundary. Do you get what I'm saying?"
Rebecca nodded, thinking about her son and a group of other pre-teens currently moving through the dangerous areas beyond the Boundary, trying to survive.
"I understand you." Contempt filled her voice. "I understand you perfectly well."
She turned on her heel and had her hand on the door handle when she heard Natalie's hasty footsteps behind her.
"Rebecca?" she sounded breathless.
Rebecca looked over her shoulder. "Yes?"
"You've always been more independent than I could be, and I've always admired that. Some of the papers you've published were really controversial, and I don't think anybody but you could have done that without losing their career. Many times you came very close to treading on a whole lot of important toes, but somehow you always pulled through. It would be a pity…" Natalie paused, considering her words. "It would be a pity if you cross the line now."
"Cross the line?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow.
"I'm saying this as a friend. It would be better if you think twice before doing things you might regret. It will be a pity if you never get published anywhere again, if you're forced into early retirement when you still have so much energy. Besides, you have children. Think about them."
"Jordan and Kate are all grown. They're making their own way in the world now."
"Of course. But don't fool yourself. If you annoy the wrong people, it won't be just about you anymore. Your husband and children will be involved too. For the rest of their lives, they'll be trying to smash through an invisible glass ceiling. And all for the sake of what? For writing something that won't ever make any difference?"
The words lingered in the air as Rebecca nodded to her friend. There's nothing more to say. Natalie can't understand. Doesn't want to understand. Nobody can understand but Daniel, and even he chooses not to. She let the door swing shut behind her and walked back out to the busy street.
Daniel was already out when she got home. She was glad of that. She needed time to be alone, to think, to consider what might be done next.
There was a knock on the door, too timid to belong to her husband or daughter. Besides, they would use their key. One of the neighbors, maybe? Intrigued, she walked back to the door and opened it. To say she was surprised would be an understatement. She was astonished.
"Mrs. Stocking? How did you find me?"
A slight smile brightened the matron's pale face. "It wasn't difficult, Rebecca. Everyone is listed in the phone book, and there's only one Rebecca Hurst in the entire Island."
"Right." Rebecca nodded, distracted for a moment as her earlier conversation with Natalie passed through her head.
"May I come in? I have… I have something to tell you."
Rebecca's eyes widened. Whatever Mrs. Stocking might have to tell her could only relate to the one subject they had in common.
"Of course," she said, gesturing for her guest to come inside as her heart played a wild drumroll in her chest. But certain manners had to be observed. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
Mrs. Stocking sat at the small kitchen table, watched her hostess make tea, and while it steeped, remove a store-bought cake from the refrigerator and cut it into small, meticulously square pieces before setting them on a plate. She took a piece when the cake was set on the table, followed by cups and saucers and the tea pot.
"Your apartment is a lot like ours," she said as Rebecca poured. "But then, all these little apartments in the Urban Islands are much the same."
Rebecca could stand no more delay. "Please. Why are you here?"
Mrs. Stocking sighed and put down her piece of cake. "I just thought you should know that before the children…left, I put a letter into Benjamin's things. In it, I told him a bit about how he came to be in the orphanage, and about his…his biological family."
Rebecca breath whooshed as if it had been knocked out of her, alarming Mrs. Stocking. "Perhaps it was a mistake, but at the time, it seemed right and…" She sighed. "Well, the more I thought about it, the more I felt I should tell you. By now, Benjamin must have found the letter. Now he knows the name of his mother."
Rebecca looked aside, blinking away the tears. "Why didn't you let me write that letter? Why didn't you let me write to my son, just once?"
Mrs. Stocking laid a gentle hand on her arm. "I hadn't exactly planned it. It just sprang into my head the night before they were sent away. As I was preparing their backpacks, I wrote the letter and hid it. Smuggling something from outside would have been a lot riskier."
Rebecca felt weary, in need of a long hot shower and several hours of sleep. She closed her eyes as two tears spilled onto her cheeks.
"Perhaps I should have let this be," said Mrs. Stocking, shaking her head. "Perhaps I shouldn't have come. But I thought you would like to know."
Rebecca opened her eyes. "I would. I do. Thank you, Mrs. Stocking. I'm sorry if I was…not tactful before. This is better than nothing. Benjamin knows now what a coward I was. But he also knows he was loved. He is loved. He will always be loved, until the day I die."
7
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"Animals," Elisa said to herself.
Ben raised his eyebrows. "Come again?"
"Animals," she repeated, louder this time. "I've been thinking. The War wiped out most of the livestock in the country. That's a pity because if you live on a farm, things are a lot easier if you have some chickens and cows. You have eggs and milk. Not year-round, perhaps, but it's still more reliable than hunting and fishing."
"You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"
Elisa shrugged. "Been reading."
His eyes lingered on her for a moment. It hasn't been long since we joined the Eagles, but Elisa seems different somehow. She was always steady, serious, mature for our age, but now there's this newfound confidence about her. Maybe it's because there's no adults around anymore. I guess we have to become the adults and soon if we're going to make it in this new world. He smiled. Elisa figured it out pretty fast.
"Are you still thinking about getting out of the city?" he asked.
"It will have to happen eventually, Ben." She gestured toward the broken pavement, the shattered windows, the open gutters of the street where they walked with some of the other Eagles. "This city is dead. It's empty. It has no future."
Benjamin could not deny she had a point. The city, like Michael promised, proved to be an exceedingly useful resource, but it was also a depressing place. The older members of the group were used to it, but he was not. He felt it from time to time, the desire to go
, get out of the crumbling walls and into the open. To be in the wild moors, near a winding river, under a clear sky. Yet he could also understand Michael's practical standpoint. Being in the city was convenient.
Elisa went on. "Who knows? We might get lucky after all. Perhaps there are some domestic animals out there, grown wild and bunched up in herds." She flashed a smile. "Just like us."
"All right there?" called Tom, looking over his shoulder. "What are you two up to?"
"We're coming," said Ben, quickening his step. Elisa followed.
After a few days of walking long distances across town, he was relieved to see her limp was less of impairment than he first thought. She caught up with the others quite easily. They did not venture out alone yet, though. Today, they walked in the company of Andy and Ron. The object of their search was construction materials.
"We're going downtown," Andy said as they walked. "There's a really good warehouse that has anything you can think of, loads of it. Planks, nails, bricks, thick plastic sheets, paint, spray, brushes…you name it. It's a little out of the way, but the walk is worth it. And it's a chance for you to get to know the town better. If you go out on your own and lose your way, you can't exactly call and let us know, can you?" He chuckled as the sound of his voice echoed through the empty ghost city.
Ben felt a shiver run down his spine again. I just can't get used to so much space. I'm used to living in a building full of people. When we're away from the group like this I keep getting an eerie, ominous feeling, like something nasty will happen any moment. I wonder if any of the others get like this.
Andy stopped in front of a dusty, decades-old window display of a shop that survived almost intact. It was a baby gear shop. He said nothing, but studied the cribs and mobiles and rows of little shoes and outfits.
Ben could tell he was making a mental note, perhaps planning to consult Edeline and come back later to bring whatever she thought they might need. It's so strange to see people only a few years older having children and forming families. But I guess there's something good about that. There's continuity to their lives. A future. They're not just refugees. They're really trying to make their own place in the world, a place with a home, with families that won't be torn apart. A place where people won't be punished for having children. He whispered his mother's name under his breath. I wish I knew what she looked like. Do I look like her? Or my father? I bet I would recognize her even in a room full of people. He sighed. But that'll never happen. We'll never meet. The Boundary and the Reproduction Laws make sure of that.
Andy stopped again, and everyone else did, too. For a second Ben did not understand, until he saw them, three people standing in their way. Three unfamiliar figures. He felt a vague sense of foreboding when he caught the expression upon Andy's face. He seemed more annoyed than surprised, as if he half-expected this encounter.
The strangers were all boys in their late teens. The one standing in the middle, half a step ahead of his companions, had a dark, tanned look, and very thick smooth black hair, like Ben remembered seeing in pictures of Native Americans. He was wearing an unpleasant grin.
"How's it going, Enzo?" Andy asked with feigned nonchalance. Ben noticed his fingers coiling into a fist.
"Fine," drawled the dark boy. "The question is, where are you going?"
"And why would this be any of your business?" Andy was trying to play it cool, but it was not working very well. It was easy to notice his anger bubbling just beneath the surface.
"Because," Enzo said, leaning forward, feet firmly planted on the ground, "if you planned to pass through here, you'd better think again. The downtown is ours."
"Says who?" said Andy, his jaw thrust out in defiance.
"Says Barry. And if you've got any problem with that, you can take it up with him."
For a moment the two boys stood locked in a wrestle of stares. Andy looked furious, Enzo faintly amused. For a moment Ben thought things would turn ugly, but finally Andy looked away and shook his head, as if making up his mind this was not worth the trouble. "Come on," he muttered, turning back, "there are other places where we can get what we need."
The others followed, but Enzo's call made them turn around again.
"Hey, newbies. I see you've joined the Eagles."
"What if we have?" Tom said.
"Don't rush into any commitment before you've met the Bears. You don't want to find out you've chosen the wrong side."
Andy pretended to be deaf and quickened his stride. Enzo and his companions did not follow and soon disappeared around the corner.
Ben caught up with Andy, who was wearing a murderous look upon his face. "What was that all about?"
"The Bears."
"Who are the Bears?" asked Elisa, frowning.
"It's the gang of one jerk who calls himself Barry the Bear. They used to keep to themselves, but for the past year or so they've been trouble. Barry's got more people who joined him, and once that happened he started closing off whole districts of the town, claiming them for himself and his cronies."
"It doesn't exactly sound fair," Tom said.
"No, it isn't. I don't see why they are doing it, either. The city is big, and there are so few of us. You'd think there'd be no trouble getting along, but it seems Barry thinks differently."
Their early return to the camp took Michael by surprise. "What's up?" he asked.
"The Bears again," Andy said, accepting a warm cup of herb tea from Edeline.
Michael's face darkened. "Damn! Don't tell me they didn't let you pass."
"Yep. It was Enzo. I would have shoved him away, if it weren't for the kids. I didn't want them involved in anything nasty."
An angry Tom said, "We aren't afraid…" but an agitated Elisa cut him off with "I don't understand why it has to be this way, Michael. There aren't many people here outside the Boundary. It only makes sense to help each other, doesn't it?"
"Yes. But you'll never persuade Barry the Bear to think the way you do."
"Won't I? Have you ever met this Barry, then? Tried to talk to him?"
"I've seen more of Barry than I ever cared to. Perhaps it's time to show him we aren't the wimps he thinks we are. Perhaps we should start closing off districts too."
Gabby walked up to them, holding baby Jill in her arms. "But Michael, it won't do to start fighting. Elisa's right. We don't want to let Barry bait us. We just need to carry on as usual."
Michael tilted his head sideways, considering their next move. "At the very least, tell me if you see any of the Bears around here," he said to Mac, Andy, and Ron. "I don't want them snooping anywhere near the camp."
The subjects of Barry and the Bears were relinquished for the time being.
Over the next weeks, Andy and the others went out again and found alternate stores of building materials, clothes, batteries, and much else that was needed in the camp. They made more trips outside the city, to the forest, river, and open meadows, which made Elisa exceedingly happy. They fished and hunted and gathered, and Elisa kept on casting hopeful looks far and wide, as if expecting to find a herd of cows grazing in the wild, just waiting to be led home for milking. No cows were seen, but they did catch a glimpse of some wild horses, which threw her into raptures of delight.
"Don't you see?" she asked Ben. "These can't be the only domestic animals that survived the War. There must be more."
He and others were beginning to understand the persistence of her wish. Fishing and crabbing were nice in their way, but everyone was beginning to miss milk and eggs. Having a domesticated, reliable source of protein would be a great help to them in their quest for survival.
They were starting to become familiar with the city, or at least with the districts surrounding the Grey Eagles camp. Soon, they began making short trips on their own, unaccompanied by the older members of the group. The more time that passed, the farther they dared to venture. They were becoming bolder, more confident, as if every month that passed gave them a few years' experience. It was the inevi
table result of living in a world where the oldest people were in their early twenties.
They were not exactly afraid of Barry the Bear, but it seemed there was an unspoken agreement among them all about the directions in which they should not go. Still, something told Ben the conflict was far from over, and so he was not surprised to encounter Enzo again one morning.
He was walking toward one of the warehouses with Tom and Elisa. It was just the three of them, which made them ill-fitted to face the Fat Bear's cronies, but after surveying the scene for a few seconds Ben concluded that Enzo was alone. The older boy's demeanor did not appear hostile this time. He sidled up to the three friends and stood a little to the side, not blocking their way, but clearly seeking to be recognized.
"Our camp is near and yours is far," said Ben, "so just keep walking, OK?"
"Hey, don't bite my head off," Enzo said, not at all intimidated. "I'm here with a message from Barry. He wants to talk to you."
Ben, Tom and Elisa exchanged glances. "To us?" Tom said. "What would he want with us?"
"Oh, just to have a word," Enzo said, trying to sound casual.
Elisa's green eyes narrowed with suspicion. "With us? We don't know him. He doesn't know us."
"Exactly. He asked me to say that precisely because you are, you know, new in town, he doesn't want you to get the wrong impression. About him, about the Bears…stuff like that. He wants to clear things up. Barry's this way." He nodded toward a side street. "He doesn't like things to be left hanging in the air."
"I don't get it. Why should Barry care what we think of him?"
"Not just you. You can carry the message to all the new ones."
The three friends exchanged glances again. "OK. Let's say we agree to talk to him. When do we meet?"
"Right now, if you'll just follow me to our camp."
"Just like that?" Elisa said, rather sharply. "Come with you and be back by lunchtime? Somehow, I don't think so."