Robyn's Egg (25 page)

When Moyer turned his head, they knew they had their man. As they approached, the broad shouldered man let the smile drop from his face. He shoved Moyer hard into the wall and spun him around. “Hands on the wall, and spread your feet,” he ordered.

He frisked Moyer bottom to top. His hand stopped at the small of Moyer’s back. “What do we have here?” He roughly tugged Moyer’s shirt up and jerked the knife from his waistband. “What were you planning to do with this?”

“I didn’t know what I might run into so I thought it wise to bring some protection.”

“Of course you did,” the big man said. He took the knife and dropped it into his pants pocket. The other two men snickered.

“Come with us,” the big man ordered.

They led him out of the terminal and up to ground level. They crossed Michigan Street and entered a local market. The big man cut to the front of the line and dragged Moyer with him. He grabbed a pack of gum and tossed it to the woman running the checkout. “Ring that up, Maggie.” He twisted Moyer’s arm and turned it wrist up. “He’s buying,” he said. Maggie scanned Moyer’s hologram. “Who is he?” the man asked.

The woman’s eyes darted to her terminal. “It says he’s Moyer Winfield.”

“Thanks, Mags.”

“Give my best to your mother, Daryl,” Maggie replied.

The men escorted Moyer outside and through Labor Housing, to the outskirts of the city. Concrete apartment blocks formed part of a barrier blocking access to the vast solar collector fields that powered the city. Chain-link fencing closed off the gaps between structures.

They walked single file in a tight corridor bordered by a pair of buildings. Daryl pried back the fencing and held it back while Moyer and the other men squeezed through. Moyer laughed when he noticed a yellow and black warning sign on the chain-link depicting a running man with flames sprouting from his head and back.

The fence marked the edge of the habitable world. On the other side, tall apartment buildings packed close together formed a long curved barrier separating the city from kilometers of scorched earth. Umbrella-like solar panels set two meters above blackened grass were arranged in even rows stretching away from the city for what seemed to be infinity. A trail along the outer wall led to an old rail terminal at the edge of the collector field.

Labor Housing buildings bordering the collector fields were known as
The Ring of Fire
. Laborers were moved further and further from the city center as their productivity declined with age. Retirees got the kiln-like apartments adjacent to the collectors. It was rare if retirement lasted more than two summers.

Moyer had heard stories from his father of laborers who wandered the fields in the days after the panels were installed to collect cooked rabbits. His stories were to impress upon Moyer how unsafe it was to be near the collector field anytime the sun was out.

When they arrived at the old station house, the top edge of the sun crested the horizon. Daryl gave Moyer instructions. “The train will come in ten minutes.” He held Moyer’s hand and slapped the knife handle into Moyer’s palm. “I don’t think this will provide the kind of protection you will need. If you survive, get off at the first stop. Find the church near the creek. He will meet you there.”

Daryl left with his friends and headed back into the city. Moyer wondered if the warning,
if you survive
, was a joke intended to scare him. Laborers did relish their petty taunts, especially if it came at the expense of a professional.

The train appeared on the horizon before he could give it much thought. The train was fully automated, running on old nuclear engines. The archaic cars were in disrepair, antiques clattering over rusted steel track at what seemed a slothful pace compared to the tube. It was an anachronism, unfunded and unmaintained, left to die on its own.

The areas serviced by the old Mannington line were deemed commercially nonviable by the Consolidated Board of Directors. The government had no interest in funding recreational treks into the hinterlands beyond city walls. But they also weren’t interested in footing the bill to dismantle the old train and track when given enough time, nature would do the work free of charge. The trains ran on their own, passengers or not, and would do so until they finally broke down or ran out of fuel.

In the spring and fall when the heat was less intense, it wasn’t uncommon for labor-class families to brave the scorching temperatures of the solar collector fields for a daytrip into the wilderness. And as for the handful of people a month who died making the crossing, the government’s attitude was let them burn.

The sun crested the horizon a fiery balloon before the train left the decrepit terminal. Temperatures inside the railcar soared. A little after 7:00 a.m., Moyer realized he was being cooked alive, and wished he’d gotten an earlier start. Begat could have arranged it. Or was this their plan all along — lure him into the collector fields so he would roast to death? After what had happened at his previous meeting with Begat, Moyer couldn’t believe he’d been foolish enough to be victimized again.

When the heat became unbearable, Moyer tried to lower a window and burned his fingers on metal latches. He stared ahead. Black panels stretched out as far as he could see. He wasn’t sure how long he could last, though was fairly certain it wouldn’t be long enough.

Steel wheels clacked over the joints between rail sections with the monotonous rhythm of a metronome. Sweat glued the shirt to Moyer’s back and matted his hair to his skull. The air felt sauna hot and dry. He sucked air in short, shallow breaths to keep from scalding his throat and lungs. He sat with his eyes focused on the horizon in the hope that soon he would spot the end of the collector field. He maintained the vigil until he grew light headed. He lay down on a seat on the shady side of the car and tried to stay still. It was only a matter of time before he’d pass out. Better to be lying down for it.

A couple of times he nearly lost consciousness. Something inside him knew if he passed out, he might never wake. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his back like insects crawling on his skin, insects he no longer had the strength to swat. In his delirium they became spiders with long curved fangs. When overcome by revulsion, he would raise up to look out the windows onto an endless maze of black solar panels and scorched earth racing past the car. The deadly band of black extended as far as he could see.

And when it seemed as though the journey would never end, when his senses had dulled everything into a formless blur of heat and light, Moyer noticed a change so subtle at first he doubted it was real. In the distance, a line of trees crept over the horizon above the solar panels. Moyer knew an equation to estimate distance utilizing trigonometry and the circumference of the earth, but his mind was too emulsified by the heat to do any calculations. Instead, he watched them draw infinitesimally nearer and hoped the train would reach shade before he succumbed. But then again, maybe it was another delusion.

He let his head droop and sweat dripped off his nose and chin. Two puddles formed on the floor. He tried to guess how long it would be until they merged and whether he would live to see it.

The two puddles stopped growing as they were about to join, as if drawing out the game to torment him. Shadows flashed across the floor. Moyer glanced up. Tree limbs spanned the tracks above the train creating a tunnel of shade that engulfed the cars. Moyer removed his sopping shirt and used it to protect his hands as he lowered the windows. A cool breeze swirled through the car and was welcome relief. Where it hit his wet skin he was chilled. He stuck his shirt outside and let it flap in the breeze to dry. After he put it back on, Moyer flopped into a seat in the back, weary and spent.

The rocking of the car and the rhythmic clack-clack of the wheels soothed him and his thoughts wandered. He remembered a time two decades earlier when he rode this train with his father.

“Do you feel it son?” his father said.

Moyer didn’t know what he meant.

“The signal is fading. Do you know what that sound is? It’s peace of mind.” His father beamed and sat back, arms outstretched across the back of his seat. “Nothing in your head but your own thoughts. You can’t beat that.”

Soon the signal faded out entirely and Moyer did notice. As the net was replaced with a vacuum, he was left with a disconcerting feeling of loneliness. He felt broken, empty, as if something had gone terribly wrong. The normal background hum of information and entertainment had disappeared. There was nothing to do, nothing to occupy his mind.

His father seemed sublimely happy, which Moyer didn’t understand. Bored and searching for distraction, he turned his attention outside the windows. At first he saw only movement, a blur of green streaming by, hundreds of different shades dancing with shadow and light. His father had mentioned how his mother loved trips into the frontier, and the realization she was gone and never coming back made him lonelier.

Once he tired of feeling sorry for himself, and quit thinking how this was the worst trip of his life, he noticed the countryside passing by. Forests pressed in around the train creating a tunnel of green. The trees were so different from anything he’d ever seen. CapitalCity had trees, small ones in parks, few and sparse, cloistered by skyscrapers, starved for sunlight; bearing little resemblance to the profusion bracketing the tracks. Wild flowers, purple and white, pulsed in waves pushed by sweet pollen scented breezes. Occasional gusts turned the canopy silver side up like cancan dancers flipping their skirts.

His father smiled. “As a boy, I spent summers out in country. Did you know your great uncle was a farmer?”

Moyer shook his head. He didn’t know he had a great uncle, or what farmers did. Whatever it was sure appeared to make his father happy.

After they left the train, the atmosphere was alive with sound. Birds sang in trees. Bugs buzzed through the air. Children played in the streets. And no one was afraid. People walked dogs and stopped on sidewalks to talk. Dogs were new to Moyer. At first he was afraid, but no one else seemed to be.

His father led him through the streets by the hand to the outskirts of town where the distance between houses grew longer. His father’s friend owned a small farm abutting the creek. He also owned a dog. The animal was friendly and Moyer stroked its fur, fascinated. When it yawned, exposing impressive spiky hedges of teeth, Moyer grew distrustful. An animal with that type of weaponry would be dangerous if angered. And Moyer didn’t know what kinds of things might make a dog angry.

Eve Ganz was waiting for Robyn at the entrance of Bixby’s baby department inside Freedom Mall. Robyn spotted the papoose carrier strapped to Eve and realized she had brought her baby along. As Robyn approached, she noticed the blue trim on the blanket — a boy. “Oh, you have your baby. What’s his name?”

The baby hung in the carrier asleep with his head tipped back and his harp-shaped mouth open in a gummy grin. His arms draped away from his sides with his tiny fingers balled into fists.

“His name is Jacob.” Eve’s voice sounded nasally as if she had a cold. It was odd enough to draw Robyn’s eyes away from the sleeping baby to her friends face. Eve’s eyes were puffy and ringed in red.

“Are you okay?” That was all it took for the dam to crumble. Eve’s shoulders started to quake. She covered her mouth and turned away.

“I’m so sorry,” she croaked between sobs. “I don’t want to be this way. But he cries all the time and I don’t know what to do to make him stop. I haven’t slept in days. I’m afraid I’m doing it all wrong. He’s going to die and it will be entirely my fault.”

She dabbed her eyes with the corner of Jacob’s blanket, “On the way over here, the ladies on the tube stared at him as if I didn’t exist. I could feel their longing and the wheels in their heads churning. I was terrified someone would snatch him. Ira and I waited so long for our baby. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

Robyn put an arm around Eve’s shoulders and delicately pulled her in, careful to keep the baby from waking. “It’s okay. You are a good mother.” Shoppers were taking notice and it made Robyn nervous. “Do you need anything from the store?”

Eve nodded, “Formula and bottle liners.” Robyn led her through the aisles, plucked both items from the shelves, and herded a snuffling Eve to the checkout. “But what about your things?” Eve moaned.

“I have plenty of time. I can get them later. Let’s get you home.” Robyn charged the items to her account and escorted Eve to the tube platform. Through it all, the baby slept.

As the tube pulled into the station and squealed to a stop, Eve’s lower lip began to quiver. “Could you come with me?” Eve asked. “I’m too scared to ride alone.”

“Sure,” Robyn said.

Their car was only half full and Robyn found a spot at the front where they could sit together. Much as Eve described, Robyn could feel other women eyeing Jacob. When Robyn caught them out, they quickly shifted their gaze and pretended to be doing something else. They were jackals waiting for that one unguarded moment.

Was this what it was to have a child? Robyn remembered back to the day on the tube when she had followed the young mother, and how she had formulated a plan in her head to snatch the woman’s baby. She had gone so far as to plot her escape route home through the sky bridges. A wave of shame washed over her. She had been as bad as any of them. Her only saving grace was that the opportunity never presented itself.

When the tube pulled into Market Street Station, Robyn helped Eve out onto the platform positioning herself so that anyone attempting to snatch Jacob would have to go through her first.

Eve lived in a very nice apartment in the IrsayTower. It was twice the size of Robyn and Moyer’s and much better appointed. Ira was clearly making a very good living. Once inside, Robyn helped Eve out of the papoose carrier and settled Jacob on the sofa. He didn’t stir. She led Eve to the back of the apartment to the master bedroom and helped her out of her clothes. She tucked Eve into bed and told her she would take over for a while, and that Eve needn’t worry anymore.