by Hannah Ross
Sidney obliged, taking a couple of sacks from the wooden shelves near the entrance to the house. "Things will be a lot easier once the horses get used to us and we can let them out to graze. And I'm coming with you."
Her eyes brightened. "Are you? Well, we can sure collect a lot more grass together. So if you have nothing more important to do…"
Sidney squirmed with guilt. He had neglected his report for most of the past couple of weeks. He did his best to suppress the mental image of Chuck Winthrop's annoyed face. "I hadn't planned on anything in particular."
Again Elisa smiled as they set off together.
The quiet mornings and afternoons he spent with Elisa and the animals were some of the happiest in his life. Of course, he also lent a hand around the camp. He did house repairs, went out to hunt and fish with the others, helped teach the children, and more, and he enjoyed every minute of it all, but nothing compared to the inner peace and freedom he felt when he sat down on the grass, leaned against a thick tree trunk next to Elisa, and everything around them was silent except for the sounds the goats made as they grazed. Sometimes they talked. Elisa told him of her childhood in the orphanage and their first years across the Boundary, and Sidney shared stories from his early youth he never dreamed he would tell anyone. Sometimes Elisa played her hand-made flute while he listened, and sometimes they just sat in silence, listening to the hum of the bees and birds on a golden summer day.
The thought of having to go back into the Boundary weighed upon Sidney like a heavy black cloud. Most of the time he tried to suppress the idea, but sometimes he entertained vague notions that would enable him to get out into the open again after making his report to Winthrop.
"Listen," Elisa said, after they finished eating their fruit and chunks of goat cheese. "What's that noise?"
Sidney listened. Yes, she's right. There's a rumbling sound somewhere in the distance, and it sounds like… But no, it couldn't be.
The noise persisted and grew louder, and before long its source came into view – another Explorer, just like his. The driver must have noticed them, because the jeep stopped close to where they were sitting. As they got to their feet, Elisa called to the anxious-looking goats in a soothing voice.
Two people stepped out of the jeep. Sidney looked at them, stunned. I know them. And they've recognized me as well.
"Scott Davies and Bob Knightley" he said. "What are you doing here?"
"I can't believe our luck, Coleridge," Davies said. "It's been a long time without a report from you and Winthrop was getting anxious. It's a good thing we were able to find you so soon. Winthrop would go berserk if we seemed to vanish, too."
"I didn't vanish. I've just been…delayed."
"What's going on?" Knightley asked. "Is she one of them?" He looked at Elisa like she was a curiosity.
"Bob, this is Elisa Wood," said Sidney, "and yes, she is one of the orphans. Elisa, I've worked with Bob and Scott in the past. We all report to the same supervisor."
Elisa looked from one man to another, wary, but not unfriendly. "If you're Sidney's friends, you're welcome to visit our camp. It's not far from here."
"We are very interested in seeing it," Scott said. "Sidney, could you drive us over?"
"I'll explain to you how to get there so you can go ahead. Don't worry, the people are all nice and friendly. Elisa and I will catch up with you in a little while."
After giving directions, he said, "Go ahead. I'll be there soon."
Once the roar of the engine faded in the distance, Elisa, filled with curiosity said, "You didn't seem very happy to meet your friends."
"They aren't really my friends. We simply… used to work together."
"I thought you still do."
"In a way, I'm glad they came. They can carry on from where I left off. Because I don't want to do it anymore, Elisa."
She looked confused. "You don't want to do what?"
"Write reports. Work for Chuck Winthrop. Live within the Boundary."
The dawn of understanding showed on her face. "You don't want to go back home?"
"I have no real home. I feel much more at home in the camp. I'm happy, I'm free, I do something useful every day. I want to stay out here…" He took hold of her hand. "…with you."
In the blink of an eye, a deep blush colored every inch of visible skin above her shoulders, including her ears, but she did not pull her hand away. "Do you…do you only want to stay because of me?"
"I'll stay anyway, if the others have no objections, but I…I just want to know if I can hope. Can I, Elisa?"
She smiled, stood on tiptoe and, before Sidney knew how it happened, her lips pressed against his. Long seconds later, he stood there, dazed, as she told him, "We should head back home…" A playful smile filled her face, and his heart. "…but there's no need to hurry."
"You're mad," Scott said in a hushed voice. "Completely out of your mind."
"She is a pretty thing," conceded Knightley, "but you don't need to stay out here because of her. A permit could be arranged for her to move inside the Boundary with you. At least I'm almost sure a permit could be arranged, as this is an unprecedented situation."
Sidney shook his head. "You don't understand. I want to stay. I don't want to go back. I'm happy here."
His two colleagues looked at him with a mixture of pity and awe.
Bob shrugged. "I've always said you aren't quite right in the head, Sid."
"Winthrop will go crazy when he hears," Scott said. "Well, I suppose we'd better get a move on and finish that report. Plenty of work left to do."
They moved around the camp, examining everything and taking notes. They were invited for dinner, and stared with a mixture of curiosity and caution at their plates of venison, dried fish, goat cheese, and the selection of produce from the orchard.
"The food's good," Scott was forced to admit. "It's different, but good."
"We're supposed to have sheep next year," said Elisa. "We'll have more milk and cheese then."
They spoke with Ben, Mac, Elisa and some of the others about how they built the log house, cared for the animals, and what they did about food and supplies, and their old camp in the ruined city.
"It's a pity you came so late," said Mac. "You could've met a lot more people in the city, but now, after the earthquake, I think most have left. And many of the buildings, even those that didn't crumble, became unstable. I wouldn't go there if I were you."
"Do you have any idea where the others have gone?" Bob asked, scribbling on his notepad.
Mac shrugged. "Each camp went their own way. I suppose we'll seek each other out eventually."
Davies cleared his throat loud enough to get everyone's attention. "I'd like to explain why we're here. Our report forms part of a new government policy. The attitude toward those born without permits is becoming more tolerant. Those who wish to do so will be able to come to Crossing Points at the Boundary, and apply for residence permits, perhaps even Class B citizenship later, I'm not sure. At any rate, the advantages to you are obvious. The possibility to live in civilized areas, with reliable food, water and fuel supply, medical care, proper housing…"
He stopped, realizing that many of the faces looking up to him were blank. Others looked mutinous. A small child whined briefly, and was soothed by her mother.
"Are we invited back into orphanages?" Mac asked.
"No, no," Davies hastened to say. "No, we're talking about actual residence within the Boundary."
Mac crossed his arms. "Do you expect us to jump for joy? I don't think so. We were chucked out of the Boundary and forced to make a life for ourselves out here. And I'd say we made a damn good life. We have a home, freedom, our own rules. I'm not about to give up on that."
Jen, however, looked uncertain. "Perhaps this is an opportunity I might consider, for Marleen. To provide more security for her."
Ben stood. "I'll come with you."
A hubbub of voices rose at the sound of his words. "You must be joking, mate," T
om said.
Mac looked upset. "I can't believe it. You're actually leaving? You're going with them, after all the government did to us?"
"Not for good. But I'll go to see what awaits us in there so that I can come back and tell you all if it's something you might consider. And…" He lowered his voice. "…I can meet my mother."
Nobody had much to add after that. Ben went to retrieve his old battered backpack. He opened one of the inner pockets and pulled out the tattered, yellowing envelope. He flipped it open and pulled out the letter he re-read so often in the past five years. He would have been ashamed to admit to anyone how often he dreamed of meeting his mother. He was grown up now, after all, and was not supposed to need or want a mother anymore. And yet the thought of her and the life he could have had was always there in the background, like a half-forgotten song.
He realized they were strangers. Maybe we won't have anything to say to each other. Maybe our roads will just part again, and we'll each go on living like the other never existed. But I have to look for her, talk to her, find out the truth. Had she really loved me? Was there no way she could have kept me? He fought against the mutiny rising inside him. Perhaps she really had no choice, no more than I did.
The next morning, there was a brief round of goodbyes before Ben climbed into the jeep with Davies and Knightley. He tried to smile, but he was afraid it came out rather strained.
"I'll see you all soon," he said, got into the back seat, and they drove off.
25
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Back home in Silver Oaks for the weekend, Alexander Dahl felt still felt the torpor that stole over him the day he faced Professor Keller. When he arrived late Saturday morning, he declared he had a staggering amount of work to deal with, and retreated into his home office with a briefcase full of papers, but did not so much as touch it. He just sat in his armchair, which was smaller but also cushier than the one in his White Tower office, stared blankly into space, and took a sip of whisky now and then.
Sunday afternoon found his briefcase sitting open on his desk, and him still sitting in his chair with a glass of whiskey at hand, still staring into space. He was roused by a knock on the door.
Eleanor's coaxing voice could be heard on the outside. "Alexander? It's me. And Andrew, too. Can we come in?"
Dahl sighed as he rose heavily and opened the door for his wife and brother-in-law. He did not really feel like seeing anybody, but it was easier than arguing.
"Are you going to come down for tea, Alexander?" Eleanor asked, fiddling with some of the papers on his desk and straightening them out. He hated it when she did that. "The weather is lovely. I thought we could take tea outside."
"In a bit," he said. "I've just been thinking. Keller couldn't have done it all on his own. He must have had accomplices."
"You're probably right," Andrew said, "and we're not letting this go, you know. The investigative team is on it. But surely there are more productive things to do than just sit here, brooding over it."
Dahl looked up with cold fury. "That goddamn scientist got his brains all twisted up in knots and ruined everything. Everything. If he weren't dying already, I'd make him sorry he had ever been born."
"Alexander," Eleanor said softly. "Please, don't let this make you lose control. I mean, this rejuvenation tonic was very helpful, and I'm sure your office will all work hard on reconstructing it, but... I mean, after all, our life isn't hanging on it. We are still young."
"Young!" Dahl spat out, his eyes flaring. "We might have twenty measly years or so before we grow old and feeble. We could have had eternity."
Eleanor seemed uneasy. "Eternity? You never told me it was about... "
A warning glance from Andrew made Dahl come back to his senses. Eleanor was a fine wife in her way, but she could not be trusted with everything. "Don't mind me, dear," he said. "This has been a long week and I'm tired. Some things seem out of proportion right now, but I'm sure I'll get better after tea. Why don't you go downstairs and order it?"
Eleanor brightened. "Right away. Come down to the verandah in fifteen minutes or so, alright?"
When the door closed behind her, Andrew locked it, sat in the chair opposite Alexander, and helped himself to a glass of whiskey. "Damn it, Alexander, you have to watch how much you say in front of my sister. Eleanor never knew it all. She thought it's all just a nice little rejuvenation treatment."
Dahl nodded. "You're right. It's just that...I could kick the walls with frustration, Andrew. We were so close to the perfect formula, and now we have nothing."
"Not exactly nothing," Andrew said. "We still have some frozen samples of NOAGE. Not the latest version, and too little of the formula to do us much practical good anyway, but these samples can be analyzed, reconstructed and improved. Jonathan Keller might have a brilliant mind, but he isn't the only one. There are many scientists out there ready, able and willing to work for the White Tower day and night."
Dahl peered in his brother-in-law's face, gaining hope despite himself. "You might be right," he said slowly. "But it could take decades. Keller spent his whole life working on that goddamn formula. What good would it do us if we get our hands on NOAGE when we are old and grey? I don't want to grow old."
"We don't know how long it might take. But it's a start. This work is far more important than hunting down whoever might have helped Keller. Set aside the budget needed for the research, Alexander, and I will also contribute some of my own funds. We'll make this enterprise as discreet as possible this time, far away - preferably in Mexico."
Dahl nodded. "You're right. Yes, hang it all, you're right, Andrew. We won't give up so easily."
"That's the spirit." Andrew gave his brother-in-law an approving nod and toasted him with his half-full glass of whiskey.
"Can I leave it to you to tell those in your family who were taking NOAGE?"
"Certainly. And now, let's go downstairs and have tea. I wouldn't say no to a round of golf later, either."
26
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"You know, I'm really glad I did this," Rebecca told Daniel after supper. While he was clearing the table, she proceeded to wash the dishes. It was just the two of them. Kate was out again, and Rebecca had an idea where she might have gone. She did not dare to tell Daniel about Tony just yet, though. She figured Kate would do it herself when she was ready.
"I've heard this about a dozen times already," Daniel said with a hint of a smile. "It sounds like you're trying to keep yourself convinced."
"No, I mean it! I know it sounds hard to believe, but really, Daniel, I've had enough. For over thirty years, I've been writing about things I didn't really care about, and kept telling myself the day would come when I could write what I want. If not now, when?"
"Well, I suppose you know best…" The phone interrupted him. "Who could that be?" he asked with a puzzled glance at the clock. It was half past ten.
Rebecca hurried to pick up. "Hello?"
"Rebecca Hurst?" an unfamiliar female voice asked. "I'm from Rockwell Medical Center. This is about Professor Jonathan Keller."
Rebecca always hated hospitals. She was fortunate to have only been to one three times before, twice for the births of her children, and once when Jordan broke his arm when he was seven. She remembered the sickening atmosphere, though, the pale green walls, the beeping machines, the nurses with their rattling trolleys, and oh, the smell. Just the smell was enough to make her want to run away. She did not, though. She bravely inhaled and allowed one of the nurses to usher her into one of the rooms on the ward.
It was a small private room with a single stiff-looking bed. Its head was slightly raised, and there, propped up on several pillows, rested Professor Keller. He looked much weaker than last time Rebecca saw him, but thankfully there was no oxygen mask and no IV drip. He opened his sunken eyes when he heard footsteps, and managed a smile when he sa
w her.
"Thank you for coming," he said, his voice weak. "I'm sorry for disturbing you at this hour."
"Don't worry about that." Rebecca sat in the chair next to his bed and took the old man's hand. It felt very light and frail, as though it was made of nothing but bones with wrinkled spotted skin stretched over them.
"Well, I'm going to leave you," said the nurse. She was a plump woman with a brisk, professional manner. "Professor Keller, don't forget you need your rest. If you need me, just press this button over here."
"Thank you, Nora. I didn't want to come here," he told Rebecca when the nurse left. "Apparently, I passed out in my apartment and the cleaning lady found me. Once I was brought here, the doctors wouldn't let me go. Well, at least I didn't allow them to hook me up to all their torture devices."
Rebecca smiled. "You mean the monitors?"
"What use is that, I ask you?" he snapped and for a moment, he sounded like his old energetic self. "The doctors and nurses and I all know I'm about to depart from this world, and nothing they do can change that."
Rebecca felt the old man's pulse, shallow and weak under her fingers. "How are you feeling?"
"Not bad for a dying man. I do thank you for coming, my dear. I…it's pretty lonely here, but I had nobody to call. Thelma was here earlier, you know. I told her to stop tormenting herself, that I've forgiven her. The temptation she faced was great, and in the end, it seems there was no harm done after all. Isn't that so?"
"That's right." A lump in her throat made it difficult to swallow. "Can I get you anything? A cup of sweet tea, perhaps?"
"That sounds good." Keller sighed and smiled and closed his eyes. "A cup of tea is always good. Maybe in a little while, if you please. I'll just rest for a few minutes." He settled back on his pillows. "I do feel so tired, Rebecca. So tired. It's as if all those years weigh upon me all at once. But when I close my eyes, it's not so bad. It's like I'm a little boy again. I grew up in North Carolina, did I tell you that? I can still see the tidy row houses with their neat front gardens. People used to sit together on the front porch when it was warm, drinking iced tea or lemonade. Neighbors waved as they walked down the street. It's gone, all gone forever, but it's almost as though I can still hear the clinking of ice and taste that cool sweet and tart lemonade on my tongue. I'd like to just lean back and think of that for a while." He was quiet then and Rebecca was quiet too as she sat by his side. She allowed her gaze to wander to the greyish curtains and the rectangular bedside table, the clock and the sink, and the monitors he refused to let them use. Then she looked back at the old man's face.