Untitled Agenda 21 Sequel (9781476746852)

by Beck, Glenn

  “All of us?” he echoed.

  “Yes. All of us. They’ll search hard for us because of the children.”

  He threw his head back and looked up at the sky. “What have you sent us, Lord?”

  I matched his upward gaze. Clear blue, the color of Elsa’s eyes, with no sign of the dark sky that came with the storm two nights ago. “Who are you talking to?”

  “That’s another lesson for another time, Emmeline.” He waved a fly away from his face and it flew in a circle above his head and landed back on his arm. With a flick of his finger, it was gone. “But let’s talk about what you mean when you say ‘all of us.’ ”

  “Exactly what I said. All of us: me, David, the children, you, and Ingrid. All of us.”

  “Emmeline, surely you don’t think my old legs could make that journey. Or Ingrid’s, for that matter?”

  I looked at my legs. They were thinner than they’d been in the Compound, but I still had muscles from walking my energy board. My calves had a roundness to them, while his were stringy and no bigger than my arm.

  “We won’t walk fast. And we won’t walk far every day. We’ll take our time, I promise.” In truth, I wanted to walk as far and fast as I could. But I had to weigh what I wanted against what was possible for them.

  “No, Emmeline. We can’t come with you.” He paused. “May I tell you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “When Ingrid and I saw all of you huddled under that rock, sick and weak, I thought it was a trap of some sort. I thought maybe you were bait to lure us into the open. I didn’t want to help you.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Ingrid changed my mind. She said we should help you simply because we could.”

  “And you’ve helped us tremendously. You took care of David’s arm, you’ve shared your food and your shelter. And you’ve started to teach us our history.”

  “I’m ashamed of myself for not wanting to help you at first, and I’m proud of Ingrid for insisting. In such a short time, you and your little family have breathed life and hope into our cold cave.”

  He brushed the back of his hand across his face, under his eyes. Was he crying?

  “There is still so much more to teach you. Things you all need to know, especially young Micah. The future rests on children like him knowing our story. Stay with us. Let me teach you.”

  “Paul, I want to get as far away as possible. I want to get back to that place where I was a happy child. A safe child.”

  “We’ve been safe here all these years. We can keep you safe here, too.”

  I shook my head no. A strangely familiar wave of nausea rolled over me.

  He stood up, walked over to me, and laid his hand on my shoulder. “The truth is, Emmeline, that we need you. Not the other way around. We’re old. We can’t forage and hunt like we used to. I shudder to think what would happen to Ingrid if my old heart gives out. We need you, but we can’t come with you. We would be so happy if you’d stay with us.” He let his hand slide off my shoulder and began to walk away. He turned back and in a quiet, even voice said, “When I think the time is right and the skies are overcast, I’ll go to the commune. I’ll talk to that man George and use my judgment to see if he can be trusted. Perhaps bring him back to see Elsa. I’m going to rest now.”

  I put my face in my hands. What was it that Ingrid had said to him about helping us? We should help them because we can.

  I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what would be right for them, for me, or for my family. I looked up to the sky like Paul had done and tried to mimic his words.

  “What should we do, Lord?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  * * *

  PAUL

  Day 16

  Paul set off on the journey to the farm commune. He was too ashamed to admit that he was afraid. He had never made the trip alone.

  Nineteen years ago, when Paul and Ingrid had moved into the cave before the relocations, there was no farm commune, just a rocky field. A year later they watched from behind the thick shelter of trees as the land was plowed and the first crops were planted. And they had rejoiced at their good fortune. Indeed, they’d felt blessed.

  At first the journey to the commune had been easy for Ingrid. She had been nimble and sure-footed, and didn’t mind the long walk or the lack of sleep from sneaking around at night. She’d forage quickly, filling her sack with whatever was in season, and carry it back to the cave. They’d preserve what they could. Salt and vinegar worked magic most times. But they had run out of vinegar until more wild apples were available and their enormous stockpile of salt would eventually dwindle.

  Lately, the journey had been hard on her. Truth be told, it had been harder for him, too. They had to stop and rest more and more often. And yet, here he was, alone, risking his own safety and the safety of those back at the cave, to meet a man he didn’t know. It was insane, really.

  He knew it was for one reason and one reason only: Emmeline. That young woman, so determined to be free and have freedom for her children, had touched his heart in a way that didn’t seem possible. It was that determined look on her face, the set of her jaw, which never softened when she talked about the journey ahead, and the glow of her face when she tended to the children. It was her gentle touch on David’s arm. She was an amazing young woman and Paul had grown to love and respect her.

  Ingrid and Paul had saved themselves when they saw what was coming to the world. But Emmeline, trapped in that totalitarian culture, had managed to free herself and the ones she loved. Against all odds, she defied an evil Authority and risked everything for a better future.

  That’s why Paul would do this.

  There it went again. The fluttering. Best rest for a moment. Just for a moment.

  The clouds were clearing and the sun was setting. He was losing the security blanket of overcast skies. He’d just have to wrap himself in the faith that he could do this. But faith can be easily shaken in a world that has lost its moral compass. Faith can be challenged by strange rustlings in the underbrush, by the snorting of an animal that you hear but can’t see. He made the sign of the cross and moved on.

  Finally, after dusk, he was near the farm commune. He didn’t see a guard near the row of pitched tents. The moon hovered bright on the horizon.

  It was time to leave the shelter of the woods and walk into the open area, exposed and vulnerable. He held the knife tightly in his hand and patted his pocket to make sure his metal snips were still there.

  Emmeline had said that George was in the first tent. Paul paused at the edge of the field, where anybody in the first tent—the first few tents in fact—could see him. And he waited.

  Two raccoons screeched in the distance, an unearthly sound.

  And he waited.

  The first tent was all he cared about. The flap of that tent was open. All the other flaps were closed. There was a reason for that. George, or whoever was in there, hoped to see something. Hope. That person had hope.

  Paul saw movement. A man’s head emerged from the opening, then his shoulders, and his back. The man moved forward. His ball-and-chain was as Emmy had described it. They stared at each other in the pale light of the moon. He moved toward Paul, dragging the ball chained to his ankle. It left a furrow behind him in the plowed earth.

  He was close enough now that Paul could have reached out and touched him.

  “Who are you?” he asked Paul, leaning forward, his voice low, his face fearful.

  “My name is Paul.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I was sent here by Emmeline.”

  He smiled. All of George’s fear was gone with just the mention of her name.

  “Go on,” he said.

  “She is safe with my wife and me. She and her husband are with us.”

  “Husband?”

  “Yes. His name is David. He loves her very much. He’s worried about her. He wants to keep her safe.”

  “I only want to see my
daughter. That’s all.” He held his hands out, palms up, in a motion of supplication.

  “Emmeline will let you see her daughter, Elsa, just once. Then you must leave. She is afraid they will search for you and put Elsa at risk.”

  “I understand.”

  “I told them I would decide how to proceed once I have spoken with you. I must decide if we can trust you before I cut your bonds.” Paul pointed with his knife to the bracelet on his ankle.

  “You can trust me.”

  Paul stared at him. Words were too easy. How was Paul to judge this man? He spoke again, hoping to be assured of George’s character.

  “They have a boy with them, also, a child Emmeline rescued. His name is Micah.”

  “Ah. And someday everyone will sit under their own vine and under their own fig tree and no one shall make them afraid.”

  “You know that verse?”

  He nodded. “Micah 4:4. I know that verse.”

  “May it be so.”

  “God willing.”

  Paul knelt before him, humbled, his knees on the cold, wet earth, and, with great effort, applied pressure with the metal snips until the metal band of the ankle bracelet broke. It fell away, useless and inert. George picked up the heavy ball and chain and rolled it down the bank into the river.

  The cold light of the moon spilled briefly down onto the silvery weight before it disappeared in the dark depths of the water.

  George was free.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  * * *

  EARTH PROTECTION AGENTS

  Days 15–16

  Adam’s condition had worsened rapidly over the last two days. It was difficult for everyone confined on the bus because of his constant moaning and harsh breathing. The sounds of the dying man grated on their nerves. His hand had swollen like an enormous black rotten mushroom. Too weak to sit up, he’d sprawled across the bench seat in the back, sweat running off his face. They heard him vomit and the bus filled with a fetid smell.

  Steven was angry that it was Adam who had been bitten. He was one of his strongest men. If someone was going to die, it should have been useless Guy, or Winston.

  The women passed out cubes from the team’s packs. Steven resented their using his team’s cubes. Why didn’t they have their own cubes, their own packs? Something was fishy. That big guy, John, had the Enforcer’s uniform and a gun, but no backpack. Steven wondered what the deal was, what was going on. This Enforcer seemed too friendly with the woman he claimed to have captured. Just the way he looked at her didn’t fit. Shouldn’t he be harsher with her? Instead, he let her go outside with Julia, and didn’t guard her at all. She could have taken off in a heartbeat and Julia wouldn’t have done a thing to stop her. And Julia behaved strangely, too. She was a team member, for crying out loud, yet she had held a gun on her fellow agents. Steven shook his head, trying to make sense of the situation.

  Guy mumbled to himself and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He hated going out to relieve himself ever since Adam had been bitten.

  Steven wondered how long this could go on. How much more time could they waste? Steven had an assignment and his reputation was at risk if he had to spend any more time waiting for Adam to die. Staying here wouldn’t help anyone.

  Suddenly, the moaning stopped. Adam began to whimper quietly.

  Nigel urgently jerked his thumb toward Adam. Steven looked back over the seat. Adam wasn’t moaning anymore and his skin had a bluish tinge. His eyes were closed, and his bad hand hung down. His red hair was darkened with sweat, and matted against his head. But he was still breathing. Damn! Nigel rolled his eyes. He was as frustrated as Steven.

  Finally, dusk was falling. Surely Adam wouldn’t make it through the night. Surely they could move out tomorrow. Finally.

  * * *

  Dawn. The weak early light wove its way through the vines partially covering the windows. Shadows and sunlight played across the seats and the floor of the bus. The Enforcer was awake, watchful, turned sideways in his seat, facing the men, his gun in hand. The women were asleep, their heads bowed low on their necks, their hair falling forward across their faces. Steven felt Julia’s beret in his pocket. It still had the lemon smell of her hair. Winston was awake, gazing at the back of Julia’s head. Guy was curled up, making him seem smaller than he really was—which was already pretty small. Nigel motioned with his head toward the back of the bus.

  Adam was dead. His eyes were open, staring and dull as stagnant water. One leg hung off the edge of the seat. Steven hated losing a good team member like him, but such was life. At least they could now move out. The Enforcer woke the women with a soft touch to their shoulders. They stretched their long delicate arms above their heads.

  The Enforcer looked over and saw that Adam was dead. Steven stood, ready to move out, but the Enforcer put his hand up to stop him. Steven sat back down, waiting. What next, he wondered. What the hell next?

  “We’ll carry him outside,” the Enforcer said. His voice and face were tired, flat. “The women will wait inside.” The women kept their faces averted. They must not have wanted to see a dead man.

  “Your men will carry him. I’ll follow.”

  Four men: Steven, Nigel, Guy, and Winston. One man for each arm and each leg. The men positioned themselves and lifted his limp body. Steven was glad he didn’t get the arm with the swollen hand. Guy got that. They carried him up the aisle of the bus, trying not to bump his head against the seats.

  Going through the opening and getting the body to ground level was difficult, since there were no steps. The men were grunting with the effort. The Enforcer pointed to a fallen pine tree lying near the edge of the bank. “Over there,” he said. The Enforcer lifted up some branches and pointed. “Put him under these.”

  They laid Adam where he pointed and then the Enforcer let go of the branches he was holding up, covering most of the body with the greenery of the tree. The only thing showing was the black swollen hand. The Enforcer bent to slide that hand under cover, then he stood up.

  That’s when Steven made his move.

  He ran at him full speed, felt the muscles in his legs pumping him forward, the muscles in his arms stretched out and tight, the muscles in his back taut, his feet moving, toes digging in, propelling him. He collided with the Enforcer at full force, and heard the grunt of air leaving his body, saw his head flail back. Steven saw his feet leave the ground, saw him wave his arms futilely, saw his gun fall from his waistband, watched him sail over the bank like a misshapen bird, saw his head hit a rock, saw him bounce downward, and then saw the splash as he hit the water. Saw him float, facedown.

  Steven picked up the gun.

  He clicked off the safety and went back into the bus. His men followed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  * * *

  EARTH PROTECTION AGENTS

  Day 16

  The women stared. Steven was holding the pistol, pointing it at them.

  Their hands gripped the backs of the seats in front of them, their knuckles white.

  “Give me your gun,” he said to Julia. “Now.”

  She fumbled with her waistband. So she was too stupid to have her gun at the ready. Steven wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t military material.

  “Hurry up. Hand it to me while keeping it pointed at yourself. Now.”

  The barrel of the gun was shiny from the sweat on her hand. Good. She was afraid.

  The older woman half stood, crouched really, leaned out into the aisle, and tried to look past Steven. “Where’s John? Where is he?”

  So she knew him by name. They were connected somehow. Julia was holding her pack on her lap. The older one didn’t have a pack.

  Steven handed Julia’s gun to Nigel. With a surprised look, Nigel took it. Then he smiled. He knew Steven trusted him.

  “Take Julia’s pack,” Steven said to Guy.

  Guy didn’t move.

  “Do what your leader tells you to do,” Nigel said. His voice had a new, authoritative tone Steven
hadn’t heard before. How quickly power becomes part of a man.

  Guy slipped past Steven to reach Julia and took her pack with an almost apologetic nod of his head.

  “Where’s John?” the older woman asked Steven again.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Joan. My name is Joan.”

  “Well, Joan, John is gone. Just like that. Poof.” Steven held his hand in the air and snapped his fingers. Why did this woman care about an Enforcer? “Tell me something, Joan. Why do you want to know where John is? Why do you care whether an Enforcer lives or dies?”

  She didn’t answer but slumped forward in her seat, her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Steven could hear her muffled sobs and that irritated him. What fool would cry over an Enforcer?

  Julia put her arm across Joan’s shoulders and murmured something to her. Joan nodded in response to whatever Julia had whispered.

  “Spread out, you two. Go to seats on either side of the aisle.” That technique had worked for John. He had to hand it to him for that clever command. But now it was his command to give.

  Ashen-faced, Joan slipped across the aisle and sat two seats away from Julia. There would be no whispering back and forth. No communication between them.

  “Let me see you walk,” Steven said to Julia. “Get off the bus with Nigel and walk. I want to see how well you do.”

  She approached the front, holding the back of the seats with each step she took. The lemon smell was gone from her hair. Instead, he could smell the pungent odor of fear, see the half-moon stain of sweat under her armpits.

  Nigel got off the bus with her and waved the pistol, indicating she should start walking. She hobbled along, one hand on the side of the bus for support. As she passed by one window after another, Steven could see the pain in her face. Weight bearing was obviously difficult for her and she would slow them down. Guy would slow them down, also. Steven had to decide how best to use the resources he had to complete his assignment.