Untitled Agenda 21 Sequel (9781476746852)

by Beck, Glenn

  Paul handed me the knotted end of something. “Don’t try to walk around in here when we leave. Luckily, this is a dry cave. No stalagmites or stalactites to bump into or bang your head on. But as soon as I leave it will be very dark back here and you’ll get lost or hurt if you wander. Hold onto this rope and tug it when you wake up or if you need us for any reason.” I felt the coarse lump in my hand, squeezed my fingers around it. A lifeline.

  “On second thought,” Paul said, “let me wrap a bit of the rope around your wrist so it is sure to stay with you.” The rope had the smell of dried brown grass. “When you wake, tug it. I’ll have the other end with me and I’ll know to come get you.”

  “My name,” I whispered, “is Emmeline.” I didn’t know if he heard me.

  Paul took the light and left us there. His footsteps echoed away, and the slithering shape of the rope trailed behind him.

  “David,” I whispered. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired. Very tired.” I felt his lips brush against the back of my neck, hot and dry. A sense of guilt washed over me. Because of me, David was injured. Because of me, the children were cold, dirty, and hungry. I had to make it all up to them. Somehow.

  “Now we sleep. Tomorrow we’ll be rested.” I desperately wanted this to be true.

  “Rested.” His breath was warm against my neck. “I like the sound of that.”

  His breathing slowed into the rhythm of sleep. I felt the rise and fall of the children’s chests under my arm. I was pained and frightened, but everything I loved was within my reach.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  * * *

  EMMELINE

  Day 6

  I woke in the inky darkness. I felt David beside me, still curled against me. Reaching across, I felt Micah’s arm. I felt frantically in all directions for Elsa but my hand only found the bundles of our few possessions, lumpy and hard against my legs. How long had we slept? It was impossible to say, with no dawn or dusk to measure the passing of time.

  I tugged on the rope and felt it being pulled back slightly in return. David and Micah stirred beside me. They woke with little groans; I sensed them stretching out their arms and legs. I continued feeling in the dark for Elsa.

  I saw the light before I saw a person. The yellow-white flickering flame moved toward us in a slight bouncing motion with each step. As the light got closer, I made out Paul’s face. I looked around for Elsa as the light grew brighter. She wasn’t with us. Could she have crawled off and gotten lost in this cave?

  “Where’s Elsa? Where is she?” I asked him. My voice trembled.

  “The baby woke up. We gave her a bottle and she went back to sleep on Ingrid’s lap,” Paul said. “We kept her with us so you could sleep. She woke up once again and we fed her again.”

  “I didn’t hear Elsa wake up. Was she crying?” I asked. How could I have slept through my baby’s crying?

  “No,” Paul said. “She just whimpered once. Ingrid was ready and eager to feed and hold her. You slept for a day and a night. I’m glad; you needed the rest. Now follow me, bring your blankets,” Paul said briskly. “Stay together and hold on to the rope.”

  We trailed behind him and the faint light, feeling our way with our feet on the uneven, rocky floor.

  As we neared the entrance, the opaque darkness began to lighten to a more transparent gray. I could see the outline of Ingrid sitting, and of Elsa on her lap. When Elsa saw me, she reached for me and I gladly picked her up.

  Paul took the rope, coiled it, and laid it on top of others, then motioned for us to sit on a smooth log bench inside the entrance. David leaned back against the cold wall and closed his eyes. Micah was so close that I could feel his sharp hipbone against my side. Paul took our blankets and hung them to air out over a rope stretched between two wooden poles.

  He walked over and crouched before us, his hair tangled, with stray bits stuck to the dried mud on his face. There, near the bench, was a pail. I could see wet mud in it.

  Micah pulled closer to me and whispered in my ear. “Why is he so dirty?”

  Paul heard the quiet question and smiled. “We want to blend in with the earth colors around us. Make it hard for anyone to see us. We have to do the same for you!”

  Ingrid rose slowly, pushing herself upright with her hands against her knees. I figured that the cold cave had to be hard on her old bones.

  “I’ll paint your mother’s face first so you can see it doesn’t hurt. And Ingrid will get you something to eat.” He turned to her. She sat in the corner of the cave where she’d been with Elsa, staring at its leafy entrance. She turned toward her husband’s voice. “Milk, water, sugar,” he said patiently. She looked around for a moment, then seemed to understand what he was saying and began to fill the same mugs we had used before. Milk, water, sugar. I felt my mouth water.

  Paul came toward us, carrying the bucket. His face glistened with a fresh layer of mud. He dipped his hands into the pail and began to paint my face with long strokes of his gnarly fingers. It was so cold and his touch was gentle, but I hated the feeling of wet dirt on my face.

  “Does it hurt?” Micah asked.

  “No, it’s just cold.” I tried to keep my lips closed, to keep the mud out of my mouth.

  “And now your hair. It’s so blond, so easy to see.” Paul said. “Later, maybe, we’ll make you a rabbit-fur hat. But, for now, this will have to do.” I felt the mud drying on my face, felt my hair hanging in miserable wet clumps.

  Elsa cried when Paul tried to paint her face and turned her head from side to side.

  “Well, I better stop.” Paul pushed the bucket of mud against the wall. “Someone might hear her crying and we can’t have that.”

  “I don’t want mud on my face,” Micah whispered to me.

  “Please, Paul, no more mud painting for us.” I put my hands in front of Micah.

  “But, Emmeline, we do it to remain hidden and safe. Maybe in the end it’s as useless as Ingrid sweeping the cave floor with a worn-out broom, but it is part of our routine.”

  “I understand. It’s important to you. But it’s uncomfortable. Besides, I had to pledge allegiance to the Earth back in the Compound. Smearing mud on my face makes me feel like the Earth still rules over me. I’ll leave mine on today but I’m washing it off tonight.”

  I didn’t think he understood, but he just shrugged and set the bucket down. “As you wish.”

  Ingrid presented us with the morning drinks; the mugs still had rings around the edges from our first night’s mixture. I didn’t care. I drank the gritty liquid through mud-crusted lips.

  “And now, the latrine,” Paul said. He saw my puzzled look and explained what the unfamiliar word meant.

  Micah stood up as soon as he understood what Paul was talking about.

  “Are there rules about when you can use the latrine?” Micah asked.

  Paul looked puzzled. “Rules? No. Use it when you need it.”

  “I need the latrine. Now, please.” Micah said, tugging on David’s hand. Paul led David and Micah out of the cave. I would have to wait my turn. Ingrid sat beside me on the bench. She smelled of the earth. Shyly, she reached out and touched Elsa’s leg with one long finger.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a child. So very long. Elsa is such a beautiful name. There aren’t any children around here, you know. I wish there were, but there aren’t.”

  She fell silent and I studied her profile. She had a half-moon kind of face, sunken in the middle, chin and forehead prominent, nose sharp. The mud smeared on her face hid whatever wrinkles she may have had, but it couldn’t hide the sagging skin of her neck. The fabric of her dress was thin, worn, and frayed around the edges of the sleeves and hem. In this dim light, it looked gray, like the shadows around us. Gray like the Compound we had escaped from.

  She gathered up our empty mugs and shuffled to a large metal container. I could hear the swishing sound of the mugs in water. I figured that it must be a washing-up container. She put the mugs in a row
on a wooden shelf that housed a stack of plates on that shelf and some cooking pots.

  She shuffled back and sat down beside me. “Soon we will forage for more food. Maybe Paul will catch a rabbit or two. Or some fish. You need food. We all need food.”

  The men came back and it was now our turn at the latrine. I followed Ingrid out of the cave, behind the trees at the entrance, to a small wooden structure tucked in among other trees. Green vines grew up the side of it and across the roof. It was so cleverly hidden and disguised that it would be nearly impossible to see if you didn’t know it was there. Paul and Ingrid had clearly planned well for their shadow lives.

  If only I had planned as well. If only we hadn’t been forced to flee so quickly. If only the Authorities hadn’t planned to relocate the children from the Children’s Village.

  If only.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  * * *

  The day stretched ahead of us, a long ribbon of time. Would we sit all day in this cave? I felt the need to keep moving, to put more distance between us and the evil we were running from. We were still much too close to the Compound and the farm commune. On the other hand, we were well hidden and these people seemed kind and giving. Besides, David was in no condition to start off again.

  Paul seemed to sense my impatience. “Emmeline,” he said, “you all need more rest. Your man is sick. Your children are thin. And you look so tired.”

  “Yes, you’re right. But do we sit in here all day?” I couldn’t help but be on edge. I wanted to be doing something, anything.

  “We can sit outside, in the shadows of the trees. We can give thanks for the comfort of the sunrise, the promise of another day. And we can visit, get to know each other. That will be the best use of the morning. We welcome the company after all these years alone. The rest of the day we’ll spend searching for food.” He gathered up some cloths from a shelf. “Elsa can sit on these. Let’s go.”

  “Emmy,” David whispered, “I need to lie down. I don’t feel good.”

  Paul heard him and grabbed another piece of cloth. “You can lie under the trees. The trees are God’s gift to us.”

  What a strange thing to say. The trees are God’s gift to us. Earlier, he had talked about sunlight dancing. Something about this man made me think that he found goodness in everything.

  Ingrid stayed inside the cave. I could hear her moving around, so I glanced over my shoulder; she was pushing a broom and humming to herself.

  “She’s sweeping the floor,” Paul said. “It’s part of her routine. Having a routine is a good thing for her.” His sentence lay flat in the air, without explanation, but he didn’t elaborate. “After she’s done sweeping, I’ll braid her hair. That’s part of the routine, too. Braid it in the morning, unbraid it at night. It’s a ritual, and there’s comfort in that. It’s nice to be able to control something given that there’s so much we can’t.”

  Everyone settled outside the entrance of the cave under large trees that cast cool shade. In front of us were pine trees, their branches hanging down like skirts, brushing against the ground. They stood like guardians around us, keeping us hidden. I still kept my bundles near me with all the things Mother had saved and all the things we had taken from the tents at the farm commune.

  Paul spread the cloths out. David lay on one and fell asleep almost immediately, his dark hair falling over his forehead, and Elsa settled beside him. I watched them for a moment, and then suddenly she rolled over and pushed herself up on her hands and knees. With her round bottom held high, she clumsily crawled toward Micah.

  “She’s crawling,” I exclaimed. “Look! She’s crawling!” At that moment, she collapsed onto her belly, but quickly pushed herself up again and continued scooting toward Micah. Again she collapsed. Again she pushed herself up. I watched with my hands over my mouth. I wanted to wake David up so he could see this, but he looked so peaceful, his wounded arm stretched out at his side.

  Ingrid watched from the cave entrance. “What a smart baby,” she said.

  I felt a swelling inside—pride and love combined. I smiled thinking of how I could now hold her anytime I wanted, not just on the dusk-to-dawn shift in that horrible Children’s Village. We had managed our own relocation in spite of the Authorities. I felt a surge of energy that I hadn’t felt in days.

  Ingrid came out and sat near Paul. He began the ritual of her morning braid. A breeze rustled through the leaves and I could see the sunshine shifting on the ground around me.

  “Peaceful, isn’t it?” Paul murmured, his fingers separating her long hair into three sections, twisting them one over the other and tying the braid at the end with the string. He was so gentle with her.

  I nodded. It was peaceful. I could see the sky, blue like Elsa’s eyes, through the leafy branches. Down the hill, the river sparkled as it passed under the bridge. Farther away, on the other side of the stream, was the large rock we had hidden under. From here, I could see that we would have been easy to spot. We were so fortunate that it was Paul and Ingrid who had found us first.

  David woke and sat up, moaning in pain.

  “Let me look at your arm,” I said. I untied the shirt from his arm; the cloth Paul had wrapped on it fell from the raw, red wound.

  “It’s time to take care of that,” Paul said. “Please get another warm compress, Ingrid. I put a pan of water on the fire pit this morning.”

  Ingrid shuffled into the cave and came back with the cloths. She laid them gently on David’s arm. It must have felt good, because he gave her a grateful smile.

  “We’ll leave those on until the sun reaches right below the treetops,” Paul said. “Ingrid will change them out when they cool.”

  “Show me how to do it and I’ll change them,” I said. “I need to learn.”

  He nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea.” He paused, and then went on. “Emmeline, you know they will be searching for you, don’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “They need to find you, to punish you as an example. If they don’t, then they know that others might try to escape. They can’t lose control. If they lose control, they lose power. And power and control are all they have.” His eyes were piercing, as though he wanted to see into my thoughts. “I just want you to be aware of the danger.”

  Aware? Of course I was aware. They took my mother. They were going to take my baby. Aware? No one could be any more aware of the danger than I was! But I didn’t say that to him.

  “I just don’t want to think about it or talk about it,” I told him.

  “I know what you’re saying. Believe me, I know. But later, we must talk. We must plan. Planning and preparation, that’s the key.”

  “I have no plan.” The only plan I ever had was for the four of us to escape. And that wasn’t really a plan. It was desperation. Paul had never lived in a Compound. How could he understand?

  “You have that bundle of things. That must have been part of a plan.”

  “Not really. They’re things my mother saved for me. I don’t know why or how but she did. I wanted to save what she thought was important.”

  Ingrid inspected David’s arm. “It looks a little better already,” she announced proudly. Micah and I moved closer to watch. His arm did look somewhat better, not quite as red. But it was still far from healed.

  “Ingrid, why don’t you make him some tea of wild thyme. It will bring his fever down. When you pick the leaves, show them to Emmeline before you make the tea so she knows what they look like.” She nodded and set off in search for the leaves.

  “How long do you think it will take for his arm to heal?” I asked Paul.

  “A good week, probably. The compresses and thyme tea will help.”

  “A week! That long?” I wanted to be far from here with the Compound well behind us in a week.

  “A week’s rest will do you all good. Let’s use the time wisely and share what we know, teach each other. May I see what’s in your bundle?” Paul asked.

  I nodded.

&nbs
p; “Wait,” Paul said. “Before we do that, I want to put some of nature’s healing product on his arm while the skin is still warm.” He disappeared into the cave and came back with something thick and golden in a small container. He put a dab of it on a spoon for me to taste. Oh, so sweet, so good! “It’s honey. Made by bees. And the bees were made by God.”

  I promised myself to find out more about this God thing. Father would get angry with Mother when she said that word. I always figured that it was because it was bad. There were plenty of bad words that we weren’t allowed to say.

  Paul took another spoon and began to apply the honey all along the open wound.

  “Let me do that.” I took the spoon from him and spread the thick honey on David’s arm.

  “The earth is filled with precious things like this,” Paul said. “You know, honey is a food that never spoils. But if you’re using it as medicine, you don’t want to put your fingers in it. Might take on some germs.”

  By the time I was done, Ingrid had returned, and Paul was helping me wrap a dry cloth around David’s forearm once more. “There. Now we can look at your treasures.”

  I opened the bundle from the farm commune first. The basin, sanitizing solution, a small sheet of rubber, and linens lay in a jumble. I felt no attachment to these things but Micah spoke up with pride.

  “I helped her get those things,” Micah announced. “We had to run through the water.”

  I pulled at the knot of the other bundle, slowly releasing the tension of it. The cloth fell aside in gentle folds and there they were: the things Mother had saved—the only possessions I cared about. I picked the items up, one at a time, and handed them to Paul. First, the gold coin. He turned it over and over, then handed it to Ingrid.

  “That’s a valuable thing, that gold coin. Worth a lot. Gold was confiscated, you know.”

  “Confiscated?”

  “Taken from the people. The Authorities got the gold. All of it. That’s what Authorities do. Take from the people and make themselves rich.”