Read Untitled Agenda 21 Sequel (9781476746852) Online
Authors: Glenn Beck
“Paul wouldn't lie.”
“I didn't say he was lying. I said it was unbelievable.”
I looked at him in amazement. “Not unbelievable. It was happening all around us. Right there.” I pointed in the direction of the Compound, just a few days walk from where we were sitting. “That's too close for comfort. As soon as possible, we have to move on. Get farther away.”
“Emmy, we're safe here. We have shelter. We are well hidden. I'm not sure about moving on.”
How could I explain to him that it wasn't the
leaving
that was important? What was important was the
finding
. Finding where we began, finding a place where life was good and people were free. Finding
ourselves. Before I could explain how I felt, he stood, took a few steps, and moved to look at something by the bank. “A turtle,” he said. “I'm sure Paul and Ingrid will know what to do with this.” He reached down cautiously and picked the turtle up by its tail. “It's a snapping turtle. Jaw strong enough to take your finger off. Claws are nasty, too. Don't get too close to it.”
“Did you hear what I said? As soon as possible, we have to move on.”
“Some turtles can pull their heads, feet, and tail into their shell. That's how they protect themselves. Snapping turtles can't do that. So they defend themselves with their mouth and feet.”
“I don't care about turtles, David. I want to talk about getting to Kansas.”
The turtle was opening and closing its mouth, waving its feet, looking for something to attack. David held it at arm's length.
“I was just explaining that there are different ways to be safe, Emmy. Pull yourself into a shell or use any weapon you have to protect yourself. That's all.”
“Fine. I get it. Enough already about turtles. After George sees Elsa, we'll move on. Find a new safe place. We are not turtles.”
He picked up the bucket of water with one hand, then set it back down.
“They're old, you know. Paul and Ingrid. She's forgetful sometimes. And he puts his hand on his chest once in a while as if something is bothering him. Can you leave them? We have been protected and safe here. I'm not sure we should move on.”
He was right. They needed us. And they had been so good to us.
“We can take them with us! We need Paul to teach us everything he knows about history. Emmy and Micah will have grandparents in their lives.” I smiled at the thought.
“What if they won't come with us? Can you leave them behind?” That was the second time he'd asked me that.
“We have to convince them.”
“And if they won't? Emmy, whatever decision they make, you'll have to accept. I'm not sure we should keep traveling, but if we do, and they do come with us, you know it will slow us down.” Still holding the turtle, he picked up the bucket and started up the hill.
I wanted to pull all of us into a shell just like the turtle, a shell that would protect us and shut out the rest of the world. A shell big enough to protect everyone I loved.
But living in a shell would be no better than living in the Compound or living in a cave. No, a shell was not what I wanted. I wanted blue sky above me, horizons open and safe in all directions.
I wanted to be free from fear.
Ingrid set her broom aside and clapped her hands when we arrived back at the cave and she saw the turtle. “Turtle soup,” she said. “Oh, my! I make the best turtle soup! Just you wait till you taste it!” She poured water from the bucket into the pot on the fire pit. “Quick, Micah, the pit needs more wood. Hurry! And then we'll find some greens to go in the soup.”
She chattered on as David put the turtle in a basin of water. It tried to scramble up the side but slid back down. Micah looked at the turtle and started to reach for it.
“No, Micah, no!” David said. “He'll bite you! Don't touch him.”
Micah pulled his hand back, then scurried off to gather twigs and branches. He returned quickly with his small arms full. “But they're wet,” he said, handing the wood to her. “They'll make too much smoke.”
“Oh, pshaw. Not to worry. Smoke, schmoke. We're making soup! It's a happy day.” She took the wood he was holding and pushed it into the fire pit. It started hissing and gray puffs of smoke curled above the pit. She jumped back, waved her hands in front of her face, and coughed. Paul rushed over and pulled the wet wood out of the pit. The hissing faded but smoke still curled in wavy tendrils above us.
“Ingrid! What are you doing? We don't want all that smoke in here, or drifting outside where it can be seen.”
“Just making soup,” she said, looking unsure, and twisting the end of her braid in her fingers.
He laid the wood aside, hit his fist against his chest, and sat down on the log bench. “All in good time, Ingrid. All in good time.” He hit his chest again, and coughed.
“But we have a turtle!”
“Ingrid, we have rabbits to clean first,” he said gently. “Have you finished sweeping?”
“Oh, dear. I didn't finish.” She grabbed the broom and began sweeping, her braid swinging back and forth as she moved.
“Why do you do that? Why do you hit your chest?” Micah asked Paul, imitating the motion by thumping his own fist against his chest.
“Oh, it's nothing. Just sometimes I feel like I have butterflies in my heart. Fluttering, kind of. That little punch makes it stop fluttering. That's all. I'm okay now.”
As I watched the little scene with Paul, Ingrid, and Micah, I realized how right David was. Paul and Ingrid
were
old. Traveling with them would be very slow and very difficult. It already looked painful for Ingrid as she shuffled in and out of the cave. And Paul had something wrong with his heart. I didn't understand it, but I knew that it couldn't be good.
Still, could I really leave them behind?
O
ur morning chores were done.
“It's been two full days since the storm, Paul. Are the woods dry enough for you to go to the commune?”
“That was one of the worst storms I've ever seen, and I've seen plenty in my lifetime. But I suppose there's been some drying out.” He poured fresh water into the turtle basin, set the empty bucket upside down, and sat on it. “I'm thinking, when we do kill the turtle, I might be able to use a piece of the shell for an arrowhead or spear tip for Micah.”
He was avoiding my question. “Dry enough for you to go tonight?”
“Why are you in such a hurry for me to do this? What difference would another day make?”
“I just am.”
Paul pointed a finger at me, the mud under his fingernail caked hard as a rock. “ââI just am' is not an answer, Emmeline.”
I had looked at my map earlier, measuring with my fingers the distance from where I thought I was to the place I wanted to be. There was a mileage scale on the side of the map. Using that, it looked like we
would have somewhere around an eight-hundred to a thousand-mile trip. I wasn't afraid of the distance. I was afraid of the delay.
“Because,” I hesitated, then looked straight into Paul's old blue eyes. “Because we need to move on. Get farther away. We're still too close to the Compound. They're still looking for us. They're looking for all of us. And all of us must move on.”
“All of us?” he echoed.
“Yes. All of us. They'll search hard for us because of the children.”
He threw his head back and looked up at the sky. “What have you sent us, Lord?”
I matched his upward gaze. Clear blue, the color of Elsa's eyes, with no sign of the dark sky that came with the storm two nights ago. “Who are you talking to?”
“That's another lesson for another time, Emmeline.” He waved a fly away from his face and it flew in a circle above his head and landed back on his arm. With a flick of his finger, it was gone. “But let's talk about what you mean when you say âall of us.'â”
“Exactly what I said. All of us: me, David, the children, you, and Ingrid. All of us.”
“Emmeline, surely you don't think my old legs could make that journey. Or Ingrid's, for that matter?”
I looked at my legs. They were thinner than they'd been in the Compound, but I still had muscles from walking my energy board. My calves had a roundness to them, while his were stringy and no bigger than my arm.
“We won't walk fast. And we won't walk far every day. We'll take our time, I promise.” In truth, I wanted to walk as far and fast as IÂ could. But I had to weigh what I wanted against what was possible for them.
“No, Emmeline. We can't come with you.” He paused. “May I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“When Ingrid and I saw all of you huddled under that rock, sick and weak, I thought it was a trap of some sort. I thought maybe you were bait to lure us into the open. I didn't want to help you.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Ingrid changed my mind. She said we should help you simply because we
could
.”
“And you've helped us tremendously. You took care of David's arm, you've shared your food and your shelter. And you've started to teach us our history.”
“I'm ashamed of myself for not wanting to help you at first, and I'm proud of Ingrid for insisting. In such a short time, you and your little family have breathed life and hope into our cold cave.”
He brushed the back of his hand across his face, under his eyes. Was he crying?
“There is still so much more to teach you. Things you all need to know, especially young Micah. The future rests on children like him knowing our story. Stay with us. Let me teach you.”
“Paul, I want to get as far away as possible. I want to get back to that place where I was a happy child. A safe child.”
“We've been safe here all these years. We can keep you safe here, too.”
I shook my head no. A strangely familiar wave of nausea rolled over me.
He stood up, walked over to me, and laid his hand on my shoulder. “The truth is, Emmeline, that
we
need
you
. Not the other way around. We're old. We can't forage and hunt like we used to. I shudder to think what would happen to Ingrid if my old heart gives out. We need you, but we can't come with you. We would be so happy if you'd stay with us.” He let his hand slide off my shoulder and began to walk away. He turned back and in a quiet, even voice said, “When I think the time is right and the skies are overcast, I'll go to the commune. I'll talk to that man George and use my judgment to see if he can be trusted. Perhaps bring him back to see Elsa. I'm going to rest now.”
I put my face in my hands. What was it that Ingrid had said to him about helping us?
We should help them because we can
.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what would be right for them, for me, or for my family. I looked up to the sky like Paul had done and tried to mimic his words.
“What should we do, Lord?”
P
aul set off on the journey to the farm commune. He was too ashamed to admit that he was afraid. He had never made the trip alone.
Nineteen years ago, when Paul and Ingrid had moved into the cave before the relocations, there was no farm commune, just a rocky field. A year later they watched from behind the thick shelter of trees as the land was plowed and the first crops were planted. And they had rejoiced at their good fortune. Indeed, they'd felt blessed.
At first the journey to the commune had been easy for Ingrid. She had been nimble and sure-footed, and didn't mind the long walk or the lack of sleep from sneaking around at night. She'd forage quickly, filling her sack with whatever was in season, and carry it back to the cave. They'd preserve what they could. Salt and vinegar worked magic most times. But they had run out of vinegar until more wild apples were available and their enormous stockpile of salt would eventually dwindle.
Lately, the journey had been hard on her. Truth be told, it had been harder for him, too. They had to stop and rest more and more often.
And yet, here he was, alone, risking his own safety and the safety of those back at the cave, to meet a man he didn't know. It was insane, really.
He knew it was for one reason and one reason only: Emmeline. That young woman, so determined to be free and have freedom for her children, had touched his heart in a way that didn't seem possible. It was that determined look on her face, the set of her jaw, which never softened when she talked about the journey ahead, and the glow of her face when she tended to the children. It was her gentle touch on David's arm. She was an amazing young woman and Paul had grown to love and respect her.
Ingrid and Paul had saved themselves when they saw what was coming to the world. But Emmeline, trapped in that totalitarian culture, had managed to free herself and the ones she loved. Against all odds, she defied an evil Authority and risked everything for a better future.
That's why Paul would do this.
There it went again. The fluttering. Best rest for a moment. Just for a moment.
The clouds were clearing and the sun was setting. He was losing the security blanket of overcast skies. He'd just have to wrap himself in the faith that he could do this. But faith can be easily shaken in a world that has lost its moral compass. Faith can be challenged by strange rustlings in the underbrush, by the snorting of an animal that you hear but can't see. He made the sign of the cross and moved on.
Finally, after dusk, he was near the farm commune. He didn't see a guard near the row of pitched tents. The moon hovered bright on the horizon.
It was time to leave the shelter of the woods and walk into the open area, exposed and vulnerable. He held the knife tightly in his hand and patted his pocket to make sure his metal snips were still there.