by Carl Trotz
He unlocked the door, pushed it open and went back for the bags; after he brought them inside he came back to the threshold.
“Are you coming in?”
“I guess so,” she said with a shrug, and followed him unenthusiastically.
The space was narrow but long, with ribbed metal walls painted white; near the door on the right were a generator and gun cabinet, a folding table with two metal chairs, and a large gravity-operated water filter. Beyond stood a storage cabinet; halfway down was a wood stove. Light was provided by round port windows along the left wall, where the grade was lower; drainage tiles aligned with the windows passed horizontally through the earth a foot or more to reach light, and hid the windows from view.
“Well, it’s interesting,” she said.
“At the far end,” Harm pointed, “behind the door on the left, there's a composting toilet. Dieter designed it, so I’m sure it works pretty well. It vents to the outside. Just throw plenty of sawdust in there when you use it. The door to the right is an emergency exit. It leads to a sort of bolt-hole on the other side. There's a folded cot over there, by your bags, that'll be yours. We have rice, flour, canned food, and some other things in the cabinet there.” He turned and looked at her. “So – what do you think?”
“It’s a roof over our heads,” she said, trying to sound positive as she ambled along, looking things over.
She stopped at some old boards hung on the wall by the stove; they were sawn roughly at the edges, weathered, and looked like part of an exterior wall. A large, faded green linden leaf was painted simply in the center, encircled by leafy stems with purple bellflowers. At the bottom, in black script, were the words: Freiheit wächst ewig.
“What is this? I like it.”
“My father did that. He was always painting things like that on his barns and sheds.” He came to stand beside her, hands in his pockets. “I took it from the hut that collapsed.”
“What do the words mean?”
“Freedom grows eternal.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, smiled, and looked up at him; Hughie reached over and patted his elbow.
“I think he wants to go to you!” she laughed.
Harm nervously held out his hands as Hughie lurched forward into his grasp; Erin cocked her head and watched with delight as Harm positioned him against his shoulder.
“I guess I've grown on him.”
She shook her head in amazement; the sun shone its first rays through the windows.
“Harm?”
“Yeah?” he said, turning his head to avoid the cattail that Hughie waved in his face.
“We’re going to be all right, aren't we?”
Their eyes met as he thought about it, and he smiled.
“Yeah.”
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
