by Hannah Ross
Stephanie remembered her father's pale, wasted face. "I suppose you're right, Ned, but–"
He interrupted her with a huge yawn. "Steph, honey. I didn't know you were so fond of discussing these things. It's like being back on the meeting board. I'm too tired for this right now. Pour me some more wine, will you?"
Stephanie refilled their glasses and took a sip, looking at the splendid panorama of the city lights shimmering below. Ned has to be right. He's always right. That's why I love him so much.
Her father's voice echoed in her ears. "All prosperous societies are built in the form of a pyramid. There is no use trying to make the base as wide as the tip. It would only cause imbalance and confusion."
She smiled at her husband, feeling at ease again: "Do you want some dessert? There's homemade ice-cream and a good apple pie."
"A slice of pie would be good. Now, let me tell you this funny anecdote I heard at the office today. You remember old Governor Darthy, of course? Well, you'll never guess..."
A few minutes later, the entire issue of the deadly vaccine had slipped from Stephanie's mind.
9
________________________________
Frank Davies was a failure by all the standards of the civilized world. Born with a grudgingly given permit, he ambled successlessly through classes in school before dropping out at the age of fifteen. After a few months in a Junior Delinquent facility, he was released with a reduced status of Class B citizenship and spent the next twenty long and dreary years doing meaningless, low-paying factory work, with a few stabs at minor illegal actions, such as pilfering goods from the restricted section, which earned him a few fines and a transition to an even gloomier and more oppressive factory.
Finally, Frank had enough. For years his stunted, bent, and shackled soul longed for something else – a different destiny, a different life – and once, when he went beyond the Boundary in the capacity of a truck driver for the factory, he finally stumbled upon the answer.
He saw a land still ravaged by war; ghost towns and overgrown roads, deep craters where the bombs had fallen. It was a depressing sight, and the coworkers that came with him were in a hurry to return to the familiar, well-regulated safety of the Boundary. But Frank saw something else as well – green meadows and dark forests, a river edging its way between hills, old abandoned farmhouses that could be restored by a man with initiative and a pair of skilled hands – and Frank was just such a man. He envisioned himself living out there, in silence and freedom, tending a plot of land and regulating his life according to the sunrise and sunset and the change of seasons, rather than the shrill call of the factory siren.
This dream became the driving force of Frank's life and reformed him. He quit spending his evenings mindlessly staring into the TV with a can of beer in his hand, or getting drunk with his work buddies in a local pub. He lived in as miserly a way as possible, telling no one of his plans, but stashing away every penny to buy solar panels, piping, a chainsaw, and other essentials that would enable him to begin his new life.
The legal side of crossing the Boundary didn't bother Frank. He knew nobody would take the trouble to look for him.
What helped him take the final leap was, surprisingly, the predicament of his sister. Frank's sister, Annie, was scarcely any more fortunate in her destiny, having married a good for nothing drunkard who, to the relief of everyone who was in any way connected to him, got himself killed in a bar brawl a couple of months previously. Annie, to her great distress, was left in the beginning of a third pregnancy, expecting a child she had no idea how to provide for.
"I ain't got no permit for this baby, Frank," she told her brother, shaking her head despondently. "They'll give me a fine that'll kill me, and when I can't pay it they'll declass me like they did to you, and send me away to some factory, and what's going to become of the children then?"
"Not thinking of giving this lil' one up to the orphanages, are you?"
Annie folded her hands protectively over her belly. "What do you think? The first two were difficult enough, with Steve beating the stuffing out of me every time he got drunk. If I didn't give up my kids then, sure I won't now."
This was when the idea finally took shape in Frank's mind. "I'm moving across the Boundary soon. There's a nice little place I can take over and restore, and live there by working some land. But doing this alone will be hard, and I don't think I'll ever get married. You ain't planning to either, are you?"
Annie shook her head. "No chance in the world. I've had my taste of marriage, thank you very much. Raising the kids will be hard enough as it is."
"Come with me, then. You'll help me around the house and garden, and I'll help you with the kids. They can learn farm work, and we'll get someone to teach them how to read and write, and they'll have fresh air, fishing and crabbing, fruit off the trees. What do you say?"
Annie hesitated. "Isn't it dangerous to live across the Boundary?"
"In some areas, yes. But there's plenty of space where you can live as nicely as in the Country Islands, and have as much land as you can work. We'll have a garden and some chickens and a cow, maybe a couple of pigs. We'll put up food for the winter and trade with other folks in the area. And we'll never have to shuffle to factories again."
Annie seemed doubtful. "This sounds just grand, Frank, but I'm not sure..."
"Listen, Annie, how much money do you have?"
"No more than a couple of thousand. Not enough to last above a month."
"Not here, no. But out there we won't need that much money. I have my equipment all bought and paid for, and I found a nice little affordable pickup truck that can weather those old roads. I have enough to pay for livestock, and we won't need much more than that. We'll just have to pick up some food and stuff in Resurrection Town now and then until we get the garden going well. And once we have our cow and chickens, we could sell some extra milk and eggs, and I can do good carpentry work. Surely that counts for something. Together we can make it and be somebody for a change. What do you say?"
Annie hesitated. She was about to answer and say it didn't sound like it could work, that it was all a pie in the sky dream, but at that moment the baby kicked inside her, and she placed a hand over her stomach.
"I want to see this little one grow," she said, her voice low. "I ain't having any of my children go to an orphanage. Let's give it a shot, Frank."
* * *
Frank and Annie Davies – for Annie had no inclination to keep her late husband's name – moved across the Boundary, repaired a snug little stone farmhouse, and took over ten acres of land. Frank looked around for good stock and acquired a flock of sturdy brown chickens, a pretty little Guernsey cow, two pigs, and a large shaggy mutt named Star. In due time Annie had her baby in a little field hospital in Resurrection Town. Frank threw himself into restoring and improving the old place, Annie took over the animals and garden, the children ran around barefoot, and the baby loved to crawl out to the large front porch Frank built out of logs.
As time passed, the Davieses settled into their new life and were as happy as can be. "It only worked for the likes of us, Frank," Annie often said, "because we didn't have to buy the land. Otherwise we'd never have made it."
"That's why the wild lands were made," Frank would reply. "For people like us, who have nothing to lose and nowhere else to go."
One night, just as Frank and Annie were sitting over a late cup of tea and thinking of going to bed, there was a knock on the door, frantic and timid at once, and the brother and sister looked at each other with great surprise. "Who on earth could this be at such an hour?" Frank wondered aloud. He strode over to the barred door and called, "Who is it?"
There was no answer, but Frank heard a muffled sob, and the cry of a child quickly hushed with a frightened whisper. Deciding there was probably nothing to fear, he threw the door open.
A young woman stood on the front porch, dressed in rags and trembling, with a wide-eyed child clinging to her and a baby in her arms. "
Please," she said, her voice weak. "Will you let me in?"
"Come on in, you poor thing," Annie said, immediately beginning to fuss and bustle. "Sit down and get warm. Let me get you a cup of something hot to drink, and how about a bit of bread?"
With the door firmly barred behind her, and a steaming mug of tea and a platter of sandwiches in front of her, the woman gradually revived. Her little boy ate a bit and fell asleep on the couch, where Annie covered him with a light downy quilt. Frank climbed up to the attic and retrieved the wooden crib Annie used to rock her youngest in, so the mother could put her sleeping baby down as well. The stranger's eyes filled with tears of gratitude.
"Thank you," she said. "Oh, thank you."
"Would you tell us what happened?" Annie asked. "Who are you?"
"My name is Ginny Waters. I just escaped from the Registry camp to the south."
Frank and Annie exchanged glances. "You're one of the Freeborn, aren't you?" Frank asked.
Ginny looked surprised. "Most people call us Illegals."
"Not under this roof," Frank said. "I've had a feeling for some time now that there's something ugly going on in them Registry camps. What have they done to you, girl?"
Ginny's lower lip trembled. "They made us work on clearing some marshlands. At first only the men and the single women, but then they said the mothers have to work as well, told us to take turns watching each other's children. Of course, it doesn't work when one woman has to take care of a dozen tots, and there's no proper room nor nothing. One poor little boy drowned for lack of proper watching over, and there was a huge uproar, but it was soon hushed up. And people began to whisper that soon they'll take all the children away so we can work more quickly."
Annie's knuckles grew white as she gripped the back of a chair. "Do you think it's true? Would they really…"
"I don't know. But my man, he said I better take the children and run for it. He couldn't. The men are watched more closely. Please help me hide." Her eyes welled with tears. "I can't bear to lose the children, and I can't work the way they tried to make us, either. It's too much to pay for food and a bed."
"Don't you worry," Frank said. "I'll tell you what. You and your kids take the loft and sleep there, and I'll make a bed for myself on this couch down here, it'll do for tonight. Tomorrow I'll take you to the Hursts. They're our neighbors, very decent people, and we'll think together and figure out what had best be done for you."
The tears spilled over and ran down Ginny's cheeks. "Thank you," she said in a choked voice, "Oh, thank you. I didn't know what to do. Do you think they'll come after me?"
"I don't think they'll bother," Annie said, "But if they do, we'll see any car that's coming this way from a good distance, and can hide you in the barn."
"Or in the outhouse, if we have no choice," Frank said. "Those government folks would be too squeamish to go near there."
* * *
The next morning, after a plentiful breakfast, Frank took Ginny and her children in his old dented pickup, leaving Annie to tend the homestead. He turned in the direction of the Hurst household, which was about a quarter of an hour away. As he approached he saw Daniel Hurst working in the garden, wearing stained overalls and rubber boots. "There's another car here, but it doesn't look suspicious," he told Ginny. "You can get out, I think. Here, little chap, let me help you."
Picking up the toddler, he swung him down from the car. Ginny followed with her baby in her arms.
"Hello there, Frank," Daniel said. "This is a surprise. Didn't expect to see you here so bright and early. Anything happen?" He looked curiously at Ginny.
"I see you have visitors," Frank said, nodding at the other car.
"Yes, my daughter and her family have come over from Resurrection Town to spend a few days. Don't worry about that, though. You know we don't stand on ceremony here. So what's going on?"
"Don't be afraid," Frank told Ginny. "You can come closer. It's all friends here. No one will hurt you."
When they walked into the kitchen, they found it full of people. Kate and Tony were just finishing breakfast together with their children, eight-year-old Roy and five-year-old Tina. Rebecca, Daniel's wife, was clearing some of the empty plates, and a superbly polished copper kettle on the stove was emitting a high-pitched whistle. The whole company stared at the sight of visitors.
"Good morning, Frank," Rebecca said, taking the kettle off the fire. She gave Ginny a puzzled look, knowing very well that the Davieses lived in a quiet, retired manner and had few visitors.
"I used to think the bastards from up at the White Tower wouldn't ever get to us out here," Frank said as introductions were made and explanations given, and they all sat down to the large scrubbed table for a cup of coffee and some biscuits. "Looks like we still have to put up with them, though."
"They're thinking of reclaiming the lands beyond the Boundary now," Daniel said. "There's a lot of good land here, with plenty of resources and mines that could be restored, and they’ve finally become aware of it, after all these years."
"They registered your farm yet, Dan?"
"Yes, some Registry people came over and got our place down on their list. We have a land-owning certificate now."
"Well, I'm not putting up with it," Frank said. "I've lived like trash all my life, until finally I scraped enough money to come here and be free. I don't need their certificates or registries, and if they come to my place I'll tell them to bugger off."
"I'm afraid that won't do any good, Frank," Rebecca cautioned. "If they're willing to register you without too much trouble, you better play along. Being legal, we can help some poor refugees who are escaping from the labor camps. We've sent several dozen people south and west by now."
Kate, who was listening to the exchange in silence until then, said, "But it isn't enough. Helping people escape won't overthrow the rule of the White Tower. It won't make a real change."
Frank gave her an odd look. "And you believe in real change, do you?"
"We have to believe," Kate said, "or we might as well surrender now. If there's no long-lasting hope, Ginny might as well turn back and return to the Registry camp. If we actually plan to fight for what we've gained, we must start a movement of real resistance. That's why Tony and I decided to go south." She glanced at her husband, who nodded. "We both have Class A citizenship, and can help refugees, but more important, we can join those who are ready to put up a fight."
"What about us, Mom?" asked Roy, who was listening to this speech with wide and wary eyes.
"You and Tina can stay here in the meantime, with Grandma and Grandpa," said Tony. "If that's OK with you, of course." He looked at Daniel and Rebecca, who exchanged a glance and a nod.
"You're crazy if you think that a band of rebels stands any chance against the White Tower," Frank said.
"I don't know," Daniel said. "The rebels might have some advantages the government forces don't. They move swiftly, they know the terrain, and they have a fair amount of weapons and ammo, though probably less than we might wish. Most important, though, they don't have much to lose, while the government people are used to the cushy convenience of the little cubicle they call the Boundary. The White Tower might just decide they have more to lose than to gain by molesting the Freeborn."
Kate proceeded to climb up to the attic, where a stash of supplies for the refugees was kept these days. She extracted some clothes, diapers and toys, and some neatly wrapped packages, and gave it all to Ginny with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
"Don't worry," she said. "We'll get you to safety."
"I'm not afraid," Ginny said with a catch in her voice. "It's just that… leaving my man behind, and not knowing when I might see him again..."
"What's his name?" Rebecca asked. "We can try getting a message to him."
"His name is Eric," Ginny said, wiping her eyes. "Eric North."
"Be careful," Rebecca said, embracing Kate, "and tell Ben and Prissy to be careful, too, when you see them."
"Don't
get into conflict with the government scouts if you can help it," admonished Daniel. "It's always better to smooth things over until you're safe. Unless, of course, you have no choice, in which case I hope you're armed."
"Don't worry about that," Tony said with a grim smile, patting the holster at his belt.
Before long, Tony, Kate, and Ginny and her children rode off in the old but sturdy all-terrain vehicle belonging to the Waynes. The remaining party stood still for a long time, looking after them in silence.
"Well, that's it, I guess," Frank said. "I'm sure glad this young gal ran off, and I hope to God something might come outta this crazy idea of your kids. It's enough to make my heart break to think the White Tower might just get us all under its thumb again."
"I do wish we had a way to communicate with the children," Rebecca said in a low, concerned voice. "But I guess there's no chance of that."
Daniel put his arm around her shoulders. "I can try running the short wave. Who knows, maybe the kids will figure something out. Tony's a clever guy that way."
"Well, neighbors, I gotta be off," Frank said. "Thanks for the drink and snack. I'll drop by from time to time to see if you have any news."
* * *
When Frank arrived back at his homestead, he saw something that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle – a sleek, official-looking car parked upon the gravel path leading to his home. Two people in dark blue uniforms were standing at the door, talking to a harassed-looking Annie. They turned when they heard his footsteps.
"Oh, Frank, thank goodness you're back!" Annie cried out. The sounds of squabbling children were heard from inside the house.
"You'd better go in and see to those kids, Annie," Frank suggested. "How can I help you, gents?" he said to the two officers with his best air of polite coldness.
"You are Mr. Davies, aren't you?" asked one of the officers, a woman with a voice as crisp as her uniform.
Frank crossed his arms. "So what if I am?"
"And you occupy this - ah - farm?"