Untitled Agenda 21 Sequel (9781476746852) (13 page)

“Does the river go there?” I studied the map, trying to follow the path of the river. The frayed fold lines made it difficult.

“Maybe not that river. But I'm sure there are rivers in Kansas. Even so, it's an impossible distance, even if you had a boat. And it gets cold in Kansas in winter. Very cold. At least here, we have the shelter of the cave and the fire pit.”

I ignored him and carefully refolded the map, putting it aside with my other treasures. Escape from the Compound was supposed to be impossible, but we had done it. Paul and Ingrid had escaped, too, and found their cave. Anything was possible if you wanted it enough.

Finally, I held up the picture of Mother and me standing in the grass in front of a large house, smiling into the camera. My small hand was on her cheek and my little white socks had ruffles. The picture was bent from being in the bundle. I smoothed it out as best I could. My fingers touched her cheek in the photo. Then I bundled everything back up.

“Time to get busy and find something for lunch,” Paul said to me. “We'll find something different to eat. You need some protein. Come with me. Ingrid can watch the children. She'll wake David if she needs to.”

I followed him into a grove of trees, looking over my shoulder several times. Elsa had been within eyesight almost constantly since our
escape. I was uneasy leaving her behind but was curious about what Paul was talking about. “What exactly is lunch?” I asked him as we walked.

“Our middle-of-the day meal,” he answered, sounding surprised that I didn't know that.

“Oh! We only got nourishment cubes twice a day in the Compound. Morning and evening.”

“Nourishment cubes? What are they?”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. “You don't know what a nourishment cube is? That's what the Authorities gave us to eat in the Compounds.”

“Emmy, we never lived in a Compound. We have no idea what it was like. We slipped away long before the government got complete control. You'll have to tell us about it.”

Tell him about it? About the energy boards, the cramped living spaces, the fences, the Gatekeepers? The Children's Village? The pledges?
I pledge allegiance to the Earth and the animals of the Earth
. Just thinking about it all made my head spin. Where would I even start?

“I'd rather hear how you and Ingrid slipped away. How did you know to do that?”

“We can all talk it over later. But now, let's see if we caught anything.” He took a few more steps and pointed. “Those are traps. And those are rabbits. Two of them! God was good to us today.” He released the trap and held the two small brown animals up by their back legs, their heads and long ears dangling. “We'll take them back, skin them, and cook them. We'll save their fur. We might already have enough to make some hats, or shoes. Hold them while I reset the traps.”

They were still warm. Their bony legs felt strange in my hands. I couldn't believe I was touching and holding real animals. I had seen pictures of rabbits in some children's books before the Authorities took the books away but I never imagined I'd ever hold one. Now, here I was, holding two.
The animals of the Earth
. I blew on their fur and it
ruffled, showing a lighter fur underneath. I ran my finger over them. How soft they were. The inside of their ears were a soft pinkish color, and their heads seemed too small for such big ears. Their eyes were open but dull. I had never seen eyes like that before; just looking at them made me feel sick.

Back at the cave, Paul set about to skin the animals. David was awake and smiled when he saw what we were carrying. “Rabbits! I used to hunt them with my dad.” His smile faded. I knew he was thinking of his parents and worrying about where they might be.

Elsa was curled up in a little tight pink ball with her thumb in her mouth, napping. Micah ran to join us. “What do we do with them?” he asked. His face was eager with excitement over this new adventure.

“They're food for us, to keep us alive.” Paul spoke directly to Micah, patiently and softly. “Today I will teach you some things you need to know. Are you ready to learn?” Micah nodded. “Good. I'll talk while I work. You must listen and watch carefully. And you can ask questions. Emmeline, you must watch, also. You have much to learn.” He was right about that. I knew nothing of this world. Learning could save us.

“Don't rabbits' feet mean good luck?” David asked.

“Luck?” Paul said. “There is no such thing as luck anymore. Not out here. There's awareness. There's preparation. There's hard work. Survival cannot be trusted to luck.” Even though his voice was soft, when he said the word
luck
, it sounded like he was spitting. David fell silent.

Paul showed us how to clean the meat and preserve the fur. “Food for today, warmth for later,” he said. “Take care of today, plan for tomorrow.” Micah leaned forward, his forehead furrowed in rapt concentration, watching as Paul worked and listening intently to his every word.

I watched and listened also. Not just to Paul as he worked, but to the area around us, mindful that, just like these rabbits, we were also being hunted.

I
went with Ingrid to find wild onions for the stew. Paul said he would keep an eye on the children. Ingrid had a little spade to dig up the onions she found and she showed me how to identify them. I watched carefully and soon I, too, was finding some tucked in among the ferns. With a sense of triumph, I dug them up and gently shook the dirt from their roots. I was now what she and Paul called a hunter-gatherer, and my reward was a pungent smell that promised good food.

Back at the cave, Ingrid set about to make the stew. She bustled around gathering up a pot, fresh water, a handful of peas, and the onions. I was surprised to see the peas. Had she gotten them from the long rows at the agricultural Compound?

“Let me help,” I said.

“Oh, dearie, I do the cooking. But you can watch and learn.”

I sat on the log near the warmth of the fire pit. I watched her rinse the onions and chop them.

“I'm curious. Why did you and Paul know you needed to escape and find a hiding place?”

“Well, let me tell you.” She made a little harrumph sound to clear
her throat. “I used to be a cleaning lady at a big government building. Like I said, I've been cooking and cleaning all my life.” She put the glistening cubes of rabbit into the pot. “You want to know what's going on? Just ask a cleaning lady. They empty the wastebaskets. They see the crumpled memos and notes and meeting minutes.”

She lowered the suspension arm on the pit, moving the pot closer to the fire.

“And what did you find?”

She took a pinch of salt from a bowl and sprinkled it into the pot. “Lots of things. Brought them home, showed them to Paul. He thought I was crazy until I put together a shredded one. Can't rightly remember now what it said. Paul would remember. Then he didn't think I was crazy anymore. That's about the time the mandatory meetings started. That's when we knew.”

“Then what?”

“Enough talking for now. You want to give this a stir?”

She handed me a spoon as though it was a precious object.

The pot bubbled away above the heat. Curls of sweet-smelling steam wafted from it.

Teaching and learning filled the morning. It went beyond catching and cleaning rabbits or finding wild onions and wild thyme plants. While the stew cooked, Paul showed us how to make a fire pit, and how to dehydrate food. I tucked the nuggets of information into my memory to be pulled out and used in the future. Don't use shale rock for a fire pit, it can explode. Don't use damp wood to build a fire, it will create dark smoke that can be seen from a distance. When dehydrating meat or fruit over a hot fire, shake the container often so the food doesn't burn.

Micah was staring wide-eyed at the fire pit. “Want to be my partner fire-keeper?” Paul asked him. “You and I can make sure we always have enough wood.”

Micah's big grin was his way of saying yes. Paul was making this
child feel special, important. That was something he had never felt at the Children's Village, that horrid place where the Authorities thought they could do a better job of raising children than their parents.

“Thank you for showing us all of this,” I said to Paul.

“I just used the tools God put on earth for man. You have to learn how to safely use what you've been given. God doesn't always give us what we want, but he always gives us what we handle—even if we don't know it yet. And, right now, I think all of us could handle some food. So let's eat.”

Ingrid and Paul bowed their heads before they took a single bite. I didn't know why. I started right in on the food.

“Peas? How did you get these?” David asked between bites.

“We forage at night sometimes. We picked those a few days before you came. We'll have to go back when conditions are right. Pea season is almost over. The commune isn't that far away as the crow flies. And the plants are never picked clean. It's amazing they leave so much.”

Elsa gurgled happily as she sipped broth from a mug. I noticed two little white tooth buds along the edge of her gums. Soon I wouldn't have to chew her food for her. Micah was busy helping Ingrid scrape the skin of the rabbit fur smooth with sharp-edged stones. Ingrid hummed as she worked. David sat near me, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Insects buzzed in the filtered sunlight and great puffy white clouds floated high above the treetops.

“How did you manage all of this?” David motioned to the cave with his hand. “All the supplies, all the things you have here?” Did he have more color in his face today? Or was I only imagining it because I so desperately wanted him to be better?

“It's a bit of a long story,” Paul said. “Ingrid can help me tell it. Sometimes she can't remember the day before yesterday, but she remembers things from the distant past. For now, I think it's time for dessert.”

“What's dessert?” Micah asked.

“Something sweet at the end of a meal,” Paul said. “Leave the rabbit skins, follow me.”

We followed him some distance to a cluster of plants among the trees. Birds scattered as we approached.

“Hope the birds left us some.” He motioned with his hands. “These are strawberries. See the red fruit? They are mighty good eating.” He plucked a berry and handed it to me. It was cool and sweet. I picked one and gave it to Elsa; it was soft enough for her to gum.

Soon we were all eating berries and smiling at each other with red stained lips. I quit smiling when I saw something dark move in the woods beyond the clearing. I tapped David on the shoulder and pointed.

“Bear,” he whispered.

“Back up slowly. No sudden movements,” Paul said. “Keep your eyes averted.”

The bear shook its massive head, and growled with its huge mouth open. It lumbered toward us. I couldn't keep my eyes averted as Paul had said, though—they were fixed on the massive animal.

The bear stopped at the base of a thick tree and, standing tall on hind legs, reached high up on the tree with its powerful paws. Still growling, it raked long claws down the trunk, leaving deep scars in the bark.

It felt like hours passed as we shuffled slowly backward toward our cave. Finally we made it back inside, but I still didn't feel safe. The rabbit skins that had been on the ground earlier were gone. The mugs we'd stacked neatly before we went for the berries were strewn helter-skelter.

“Since the beginning of time, wildlife has competed with mankind for food,” Paul said, settling on a log bench. “Best we stay inside until the bear is done marking its territory. We can sit around the fire and use the time to talk.”

They began telling their tale, talking back and forth, remembering, and sharing.

“About twenty-four years ago, Ingrid started to worry about things she found at work. I didn't believe her at first,” Paul said. “I had my own problems. I used to be a history teacher.”

“Oh, so was my mother!” I interrupted him.

“Really? What did she tell you about that?” Paul asked.

“She didn't talk about it. But Father told me she wasn't allowed to teach real history anymore.” I tried to remember his exact words. “She couldn't teach
accurate
history. History was being changed, rewritten by the Authorities.”

“Exactly right. I couldn't bring myself to teach their lies, so I quit.” He gave a little shake of his head.

Ingrid and Paul talked on and on, often interrupting each other, in their desire to share their story. They used phrases I wasn't familiar with: mandatory meetings, loss of private property, and regulations on air and water use.

As I listened, I watched the area outside of the cave. The bear was out there somewhere.

“We knew we had to find a safe place. And by the grace of God, I found this.” He looked around the cave. “Perfect. A dry cave. Shelter. Near water. At the time, we didn't know we'd be near the farm commune. That was a bonus. We made lists of things we would need.”

They both talked, tossing words at us rapid-fire: Food that wouldn't spoil; containers; clothing; candles; tools; knives; matches. The list seemed endless.

“Took us four years to stock up. Don't know how many times we drove the truck up here and unloaded it,” Paul said. “Had to do a little bit at a time so nobody got suspicious.”

“Didn't know who we could trust,” Ingrid added.

Paul sounded angry when he described a database that was being built on every individual in a way that had never been done before.
“We knew then that the time for hoarding was over and the time for hiding had begun. Loaded up our truck one last time. Drove it here, and unloaded everything. At that time there was still a road leading to the bridge. I drove the truck into a gully and left it there. It's probably rusted away and covered in vines by now.