Untitled Agenda 21 Sequel (9781476746852) (11 page)

“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. “Powdered 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.

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.

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.