by Beck, Glenn
He looked up. There was nothing to see but early-morning sky through the branches of the trees. No clouds. There would be a full moon tonight, which meant no foraging. It wouldn’t be dark enough to risk venturing out.
“Ingrid, I don’t want to talk to them. It’s too risky. And that’s final.” He felt cold, talking to her like she was a child. Who was he to decide what was final? He brushed away a bluebottle fly hovering over her head. When had her hair gotten so gray? It had happened strand by strand, stealthy but constant. Just as time marched forward day by day: stealthy but constant.
He shifted his position to allow a little more of the rising sun on his feet. Some days he desperately wanted to wash all the mud from his body, strip off his clothes, and lie naked in the sunshine. Just lie there, splayed out, chin tilted, neck exposed, eyes closed, and soak it in. Let the golden warmth wash over him, cleanse him.
“Why is it risky?”
He sighed. She wasn’t going to let go of this. “Because we would have to cross the bridge to get to them. And then what would we do with them? Bring them back here?”
“Oh,” she said. Her shoulders sagged, the neckline of the dress draped lower. The skin of her chest was mottled with purple cobweb veins like small bruises, and brown splotches of age.
Once they had carried the last of their supplies over that bridge and into their hiding place, they had never crossed it again. There was no reason to and it would leave them too vulnerable. Anybody up- or downstream could see them.
“But there’s nobody around. There hasn’t been anybody around for the longest time.” She plucked a piece of grass and used it to clean between her teeth. “And I’m lonely.”
“Being lonely is no reason to take risks.” He took her hand in his. “We’ve been careful all this time and we’ve been safe. Trust me.”
“I still want to talk to them.” Her voice was low, pouty. “Maybe they need us. Maybe they escaped somehow.”
“All the more reason to stay away. If they escaped, Earth Protectors will be looking for them.”
“Well, then, we could help them hide.” She clapped her hands together, childlike. “That’s it! We could hide them. We could save them!”
He looked at her. How happy she was at that moment of discovery, a moment in which she felt like she had a purpose. His eyes watered. This was like his Ingrid of the past.
We could save them.
“You really believe we can save them?” he asked her, his milky blue eyes looking into hers.
“I believe we can try.” She gazed back at him, not blinking. “What are we if we don’t try? Not to act is to act. You know that.”
He held out his hand, helping her stand. Together they walked over the bridge they hadn’t crossed in nearly two decades, toward a group of strangers on the other side.
Strangers they might be able to save.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* * *
EMMELINE
Day 5
There it was again: movement. I leaned forward and squinted. Oh, dear sweet Jesus, what was that? Who was that walking across the structure that spanned the river? I glanced at David, Elsa, and Micah. They were all still sleeping; they looked so thin and pale. Elsa’s legs would soon lose their chubbiness. Micah’s arms would soon look like twigs. We simply were not getting enough calories with the few edible things we found. Would I be strong enough to deal with these people if they posed a threat? I’d have to be. I had no choice.
I slipped my hand into one of the bundles and felt around for the cold hardness of the knife, and the release button on the side.
Crawling out from the overhanging rock on my hands and knees, I watched as the two people continued walking over the span. They looked old and dirty. Both had long hair. It was a man and a woman, holding hands, close enough now that I could make out their mud-covered faces and thin, frayed clothing.
I moved away from the hiding place, away from my little family and out into the open. I pushed the release button and the knife blade flashed out with a harsh metallic click. No one, absolutely no one, would hurt my family. I would do whatever it took.
They were at the end of the span, walking down toward me with their hands held out in front of them, reaching out to me with their palms up and fingers outstretched. I held the knife in front of me, my arm extended. Sunlight reflected off the blade, flashing sparks of light.
“We mean you no harm,” the man said.
“Stay back,” I said. “Stay back. Come no closer.” I didn’t want them to see my family. Surely, they were well hidden by the rock. How foolish I had been to go to the river, exposed and unprotected!
I walked cautiously toward them, trying to measure their intent. Who were they and where did they come from? Finally, I was within a few feet of them, close enough to see their pale blue eyes, and the knotty veins in their thin arms.
“Sit, child. Talk to us,” the woman said, a bit out of breath, as she lowered herself onto a log. She folded her legs feebly in front of her. The man, shoulders hunched, remained standing beside her.
“Who are you?” I asked. “And what do you want?”
“I’m Ingrid,” the woman said, pointing to herself. “And this is my husband, Paul.”
“What do you want?” I asked again.
“Won’t you sit and talk?” Ingrid asked. “What is your name, child?”
“No, I will not sit. I want to know what you want. I want to know who you are, what you are doing here.”
“We’re surviving,” Paul said. “That’s all. Surviving. Just like you’re trying to do.”
“How do you know what I’m trying to do? How do you know anything about me?”
Paul sat beside his wife on the log, his thin legs stretched in front of him. He had no shoes; the soles of his feet were thick with calluses, his toenails long yellow horns. “You must have escaped somehow. Lord only knows how. But sooner or later, you’ll get caught. They all do eventually. They are nothing if not persistent and ruthless.”
“Just where are you from?” I asked, my hand shaking. “What are you doing here?”
“We slipped away a year before the relocations and we’ve been surviving the best we can ever since,” Ingrid said. “Aren’t you frightened that they’ll find you? They’re probably already searching.” She turned to her husband. “What are they called? The ones who search? What are they called?”
“Earth Protectors,” he answered, patiently. “From the Earth Protection Agency.”
I remembered the voices of the men we heard the first day of our escape. They had said, “There will be hell to pay. They’ll call in Earth Protectors.” And this man and woman claimed to be shadow people, those who had run away. Could I trust them?
“Maybe you’re part of them. Maybe you’re disguised so you can fool us. Maybe I’m in danger right now, talking to you.” My extended arm was getting tired; I switched the knife to my other hand.
“Yes, we’re all in danger right now, out here in the open. Let us help hide you. We mean no harm to you,” Paul told her. He placed his right hand flat against his chest. “I promise you.”
“Why do you want to help me? If they’re looking for me and you help me, well, isn’t that dangerous for you?”
“We’ve been safe all these years. We want the same safety for you.”
“Why? Why do you care about me? What am I to you?” I heard a twig snap behind me and turned my head. Micah was approaching. No, no, no. “Go back!”
He shook his head and kept coming.
“Go back, now!”
“Elsa needs you,” he said. “She’s crying really, really hard.” The sound of the rushing water was loud; I couldn’t hear the baby’s cries but I believed Micah.
“We don’t just care about you,” Paul said. “We care about all of you. Let us help.”
“You saw us? You saw all of us?” It would have been easy for them to see me, out in the open by the river, but I had chosen that hiding place, certain we could not be
seen. I had failed.
“Yes. And if we could find you, then soon the searchers will, too. You, the man, and most important, the children,” Paul said.
“Yes, the children. They’re the most important among us.” Ingrid said. “Go. Get the crying child. Bring your man. We can see that he is sick. Let us help you. Follow us. We have a safe place where you can all rest.” She made a strange motion: she touched a finger to her forehead, then her chest, then her right shoulder, then the left.
I waited, expecting to see the woman make the circle sign or recite the Pledge. But it never came.
Micah tugged on my arm. “Elsa’s crying really, really hard,” he said again, his small face furrowed with worry.
I stood silently for a moment, thinking. David was indeed sick and we were all weak from hunger. I had no option but to trust these strangers.
The knife was still pointed at Ingrid and Paul. In one quick motion, I snapped it closed and slipped it into my pocket, then nodded at the couple and turned back toward the rock; Micah followed.
David was awake now and trying to comfort Elsa. I took her from him and patted her back. “Shhh. Shhhh.” Elsa’s sobs subsided to a pitiful whimper.
“Follow me,” I told him. Micah helped David stand; he was unsteady on his feet and put his good hand on the rock for support. I saw how dry his lips were, how sunken his eyes had become. Micah picked up one bundle; I picked up the other with my free hand.
“Where are we going?” David asked. “I can’t walk much farther.”
My chest tightened. Elsa’s crying, David’s unsteadiness, and my own hunger and fatigue were combining to make me desperate.
“There’s a man and a woman out there. They saw us.”
David raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
“I saw them, too,” Micah said. “They’re dirty and old. I never saw anybody so old.” Of course he hadn’t. Old people had no value to the Authorities. Old people were recycled to free up resources for the young and productive.
“I think they’re shadow people,” I said. “I remember when you told me about them, back in the Compound. You said they slipped away before the relocations.”
“All these years? And they survived?” David’s voice had a croaky quality. He swallowed hard as if to clear his throat. He adjusted the strap of his sling. I could see the raw, red welt where it had rubbed the back of his neck. He was still holding onto the rock, still trying to steady himself.
“They said they want to help us. They said we could trust them.”
David looked at me. “Do you?”
“We have no other choice. We’ll die under this rock if we don’t take a chance.”
I carried Elsa and dragged one bundle behind me, feeling it catch on the uneven ground. Micah dragged the other one and let David lean on him for support. Together we left the deceptive security of the rock, stepped into the open, and walked toward the shadow people.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
* * *
The old couple silently led the way and we straggled behind, our feet almost too heavy to lift. Before I awkwardly climbed the slope to walk on the span, I dipped my headscarf in the water. Elsa sucked eagerly on the cold, dirty fabric, her cheeks pulling frantically, her eyes squeezed closed.
“A bridge,” David said, sounding surprised.
“A what?” I asked.
“This.” He pointed at the span. “A metal bridge. Rusty, but still standing.” A broken metal plate fastened to the railing read Loyalha Bridg Weig Limi. The right side of the plate was broken off, the edge ragged and rusted.
So, this was a bridge and we were about to walk on it. For the first time on our journey, there was no need to wade through the rough water to get to the other side. What a marvelous idea. Who had thought of it? Who built it? The sounds of our shuffling footsteps echoed around us; the water rushed below us. Micah was wide-eyed, taking it all in.
“Look!” he exclaimed. “We’re way up above the water.” The novelty of this seemed to give him more energy and he began to hop up and down on two feet. The bridge rocked and screeched with his enthusiasm.
“Quiet,” Paul said, turning. “We must be very quiet.”
Micah stopped hopping, blushed, and looked down at his feet as though ashamed. I’d seen the same flash of fear in his eyes back at the Children’s Village. David stroked his head with a gentle motion; Micah gave him a shy smile. It was a small action, a man reassuring a child with a simple stroke on the head, but I felt a soft warmth spread from my heart through my chest as though a hand was squeezing my heart.
We had an uphill climb on the other side of the bridge. Ferns and vines brushed our feet and ankles. David was breathing heavily, and walking slowly. Once more, I matched my pace to his. Elsa was heavy in my arms; the wet headscarf draped over my arm was clammy and cold.
Paul stopped for a moment, allowing us to catch up to him.
“May I carry your bundles?” he asked. He didn’t just reach out and take them, but instead asked permission first. I liked that. I nodded and watched as he took everything that we had, cradled it in his arms, and walked on. There was something reassuring about the way he acted.
The trees grew thicker, bigger, and a rock-strewn hill rose sharply ahead of us. Paul headed straight for it. There was no way we could climb that! Not in the state we were all in. But then Paul pushed through the wall of trees and seemed to disappear, swallowed up in the shadows. Ingrid, too, disappeared into the same area. Frightened, I moved forward, toward that dark space. A cold draft blew over me, making the hair on my arms stand up. Elsa must have felt it too; she stirred, pushing her legs against me. A musty smell of fur and feathers came out of the space, riding on the draft of air.
There was a flickering red glow just inside the entrance. Fire? I could just make out Paul’s face, ghostlike, in the light. I edged forward slowly, with David and Micah following.
Cautiously, we stepped into that space. It was an opening into the side of the hill, hidden by trees.
Some daylight dimly lit the inside and I saw that the space we stood in was enormous. I couldn’t even see where it ended. Paul and Ingrid moved deeper into the dark coolness. It seemed to go on forever, deep into the earth, under the mountain.
“Welcome to our kingdom,” Paul said, his voice echoing. “Our kingdom on Earth. It has kept us safe.”
“A cave,” David whispered behind me. So that’s what this was called. A cave. I had never heard of such a thing. “Is that a fire pit?” he asked.
“Yes, it is. I’ll show you how I made it tomorrow. Right now you need to eat and then rest. You look exhausted and ill. Your arm must be injured.”
Paul turned to his left. I could dimly make out shelves, rows and rows of shelves with containers of different sizes piled on them. Along one wall were big metal receptacles, some with lids.
“Careful,” Paul said, bending over. “Mousetraps.” He picked something up and I saw a square wooden thing with metal bands on it. A brown animal hung lifeless, its thin tail dangling. He released the metal, and the animal dropped into his hand.
“What is that called?” Ingrid asked Paul.
“A rat,” he answered patiently. He put the rat in a pan near the fire pit.
“A rat has to eat,” she said. “But so do we.”
Micah murmured: “I pledge allegiance to the Earth and to the animals of the Earth.” He started to make the circle sign on his forehead but I took his small hand in mine to stop him. He looked up at me, confusion on his face. It would take time for him to unlearn what the Authorities had been drilling into him almost since the day he was born.
Elsa stirred and whimpered weakly.
“We can offer a little food,” Paul said. “Do you have an empty bottle for the baby?”
Micah quickly unrolled a bundle and handed a bottle to Paul. Paul went to one of the containers and scooped something into the bottle. I couldn’t see what it was. Then he went to another container and added something else to it. “P
owdered milk,” he said over his shoulder, “and some sugar for calories. Now I add water to dissolve everything.” He dipped the bottle into another container, shook it, and handed it to me. Elsa eagerly took this mixture, sucking, hiccupping, pink fists tight against the bottle.
Paul mixed up more of the powders and handed us the sweet drinks. We took his offering and drank deeply. Gratitude tastes a lot like milk and sugar.
Ingrid gathered up the empty cups while Paul dipped a cloth in a pan of water on the fire pit.
“Let me see your arm,” he said to David. David slipped the sling off and the dried moss fell in clumps. Even in that dim light, I could see how red and swollen his arm had become.
Paul wrapped the warm, damp cloth around the wound. “Now, put the sling back on. It will keep this compress in place.”
“That feels good,” David said. “Thank you.”
“You all look like you could use a long, deep sleep.” Paul put a thick branch in the fire pit until a small bright orange flame danced on the end of it with a cool blue closer to the wood. It cast dancing shadows in the cave. He cupped his hand around the flame, protecting it.
The branch flickered in front of his face as he led us into yet another chamber. “Just for today, we’ll put you here, deep in the cave, where the darkness will help you sleep. And it will be safer in case you’ve been followed. Here are blankets to lie on and a few extras to keep you warm,” he said.
I picked up the bundles. All that we had was in them, and I had to keep them near me. “Where will you be?” I asked him.
“At the entrance, near the fire pit,” he answered. “Keeping watch.”
“You would do that?” I asked. “For us? Why?”
“Because we can.”
He stood with the burning branch until we had arranged ourselves on their bedding. I lay close to David, his good arm brushing my hip, his long legs against mine. Micah and Elsa lay near me, my arm across them just as David’s was across mine.