Silent Autumn

By Veronica Helen Hart

In 2179 Taylor Female 8635 is content with her profession as a cosmetics designer. She gave birth to the requisite two babies in her teens and now enjoys privileges beyond the norm. When stopping at a power station Taylor inadvertently overhears a conversation between the leaders of the North and the South. They have a plan to destroy the leader of the West in order to gain control over food production. When Maximilian Male catches her in the shadows, he uses her plight as his opportunity to leave the North.

Together they travel across the country, passing abandoned and derelict cities, countryside inhabited by uneducated tribes, villages with a minimum of social organization and barren wasteland in their quest to warn the leader of the West.

Without her prescribed medication laced meals, Taylor learns what it is like to feel emotions, to experience joy and feel heartbreak.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Champagne Book Group
• Release date: Sep 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781771551465

Book preview

At First

2077 AD

President Elliott leaned forward, elbows on the lectern, as he counted off the steps taken prior to his election two years ago. He had already been speaking two hours over his scheduled time. To summarize, we eliminated ninety percent of the prisons’ populations, and reduced healthcare spending by cutting off care at age ninety, no matter the alleged ‘spirit’ of anybody’s granny. We withdrew our forces from any involvement outside of our own perimeters and dropped Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, the Philippines, Cuba, Alaska and Hawaii along with every one of our territories. Being no longer reliant on fossil fuels, we removed dependence on any foreign country. He paused to throw his hands in the air. And yet, we remain a third world economy with people dying in the streets from not only violence, but starvation, a situation not to be tolerated!

Charles Guzman raised his hand and spoke without waiting to be recognized. But our churches are full, Mr. President. God and righteousness are on our side!

The other ten men and one woman in the room snickered. The House Minority Leader had become more of a laughingstock than a recognized national leader.

Elliott raised a hand to silence them. The gentleman is right. However they do not go to church to worship a non-existent god, they go out of desperation for a sense of community.

And to keep their names at the top of the food pantry lists, Vice President Fleming chortled.

Nothing wrong with that, the president responded with a smile before turning his attention back to Guzman. You will have an opportunity to exercise your ideas. You will have your role to play, but you will do it in your own private reserve. We have isolated portions of a former Native American reservation along with one major city for your use.

Knowing he could intimidate with his piercing glares, Elliott kept his eyes on Guzman several seconds longer than necessary. Once Guzman’s shoulders relaxed, he returned to the topic at hand.

We have our best scientists, analysts and the military lined up and ready to move. If you have done your homework, everything will go smoothly. I suggest you go in to dinner and then return to your respective shelters for the duration. Keep communications open throughout the event. I shall not join you because I want to be in my new capital before morning, stationed at command headquarters.

He left the room, collected his bodyguards and strode out onto the runway for his last journey across the United States of America, a country soon to be divided and therefore conquered. He smiled as he climbed the steps into the giant aircraft.

One

Late October 2197

Taylor Left Hand Female 8635 stepped from the entrance to the cave that protected the children and lifted off, rising above the treetops, impressed as always by the sight of the vast amounts of foliage. Whether it was the delicate greens of spring or, like now, the vibrant oranges, yellows and burnt sienna of autumn, the view astounded her. The prognosticators of the past had gotten it wrong. It was not the trees which were endangered; the trees flourished as did the wildlife; humans existed in a fragile recovery.

Pinging started inside her helmet, her battery pack warning her it required a charge. She checked her hand-held. Sure enough, the orange light flashed. She followed the dirt road. As she passed over a washed-out section, she considered again the powers-that-be; those who chose not to repair the roadways to the caves. Since the creation of the hover vehicles and personal transporters, the need for smooth surfaced roads had become a low priority. They believed their road funds better spent maintaining the highways to the major entertainment centers in order to keep the population happy, because happy people will repopulate the country faster than a serious and glum citizenry.

Being neither happy nor unhappy, she fit nowhere. As head of the cosmetics industry, she received enough special privileges she ought to be happy by anybody’s standard, but something remained missing from her life.

Because of a nuclear accident in the twenty-first century, human reproduction had dwindled, leaving too few people to maintain the systems necessary to run the country. The same powers who caused the accident, created a new government, similar to the United States government of the twenty-first century, including pseudo-elections.

With fewer than six million people in The North, and only ten percent of those educated in civic studies or law, their elections were a joke. Taylor could not begin to imagine how they used to run national elections with a population at an unimaginable three hundred fifty million across the entire continent. It must have been chaos.

The Profession’s Board sent Shirley, her closest friend, to become a teacher, which meant going to the caves where the young girls lived. In spite of her education, Shirley claimed to be learning one step ahead of the children, everything she needed to know in order to teach them the government provided protocols.

She had no complaints about Shirley’s teaching. Taylor had approximately two hundred of those students, now adults, working in her plant, producing fragrances and cosmetics she and her two fellow chemists designed. They even had a model woman to send to the schools to explain their purpose. The only reason she went out today was because Shirley’s school was on the schedule and she wanted to see her.

She passed another washout and then came to the crossroads where the paved road to the mountains ended. The red tiled roof of the charge station appeared. She floated down gently, turning on her beeper at fifty feet to warn anyone below of her descent.

The station stood a ramshackle mess, the paint long gone, leaving a bleached wooden exterior in need of patching. The windows, in contrast, sparkled in the western sun. Faded signs hinted of goodies inside. Sweets, clothing, canned goods—out of date but still usable, fresh produce in season, two recharge stations, one outside for vehicles and one inside for Personal Transporters.

As the door closed behind her, she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle, thumping airwaves bouncing over the rough road. It stopped out front and let down its landing legs. She turned to look as another one pulled up nose-to-nose with the first one. Large, impressive, vans with tinted windows. A busy intersection for such a remote part of the world.

Anxious to get back to her office so she could then return home before dark, she went about her business and ignored the unusual traffic.

Dimly lit by fake smoldering kerosene lanterns, the PayScan cleverly disguised in an antique cash register on a counter, the store served as a replica of turn-of-the-nineteenth century living. The items for sale filled shelves lining the walls as well as display shelves in the middle of the room. The gleaming silver recharger looked out of place at the rear. She waved her arm past the PayScan and headed straight to the charger, removing her power pack vest as she headed toward it. To the right, an unlit screened-off waiting area provided wooden chairs and a drinks dispenser. As she set up her Personal Transporter for its charge, a grizzled old man entered from a rear door and greeted her with a wave. Tired from the day’s activity, she only smiled in return and stepped into the small washroom.

She studied her face in the mirror over the counter top as she massaged the antiseptic cleanser into her hands. Someone walked around in the store. With one hand on the doorknob, she hesitated a moment.

All clear, a man’s voice shouted in the store. More footsteps.

Chairman Conrad, a deep baritone voice said.

President Elliott, a slightly accented voice responded. My aircraft is recharging at Binghamton. We have three hours.

Her heart skipped a beat. Chairman Conrad and President Elliott? These two men were sworn enemies. Her hand froze on the doorknob.

An odd place to meet, I know, but the most secluded place I could think of on short notice. The boys got rid of the old man. We have the place to ourselves.

They believed they did, and she wished they did. After its little skip, her heart raced along with her mind. How could she get out of here unnoticed? How did their security detail miss her pack on the charger? She prayed she would not sneeze from the dust in the place. How long would her president and Chairman Conrad be in here? They had three hours; her recharge would take two.

She eased herself down onto the closed lid of the commode and tried to figure out how to get away. If she did not check in to her apartment in Albany by eight o’clock, the People’s Protection Unit would come looking for her. Taylor had been proud of the fact she had never received as much as a warning, much less a ticket her entire life. She had to be home before dark.

She had stopped here two or three times in the past and never encountered anyone except the storekeeper. She flipped her communicator back and forth in her hands.

It is cozy. Reminiscent of my grandfather’s place in the Green Mountains, the president said in a friendly tone, his voice indicating he roamed through the store aisles. She could picture the short, rotund old man with his hair and teeth implants designed to make him look younger. However, nothing could disguise his mean eyes. In keeping with this outing, he probably wore his version of country clothes. She would have snickered if she were not afraid of being discovered.

Conrad was the equivalent of the president, except in the South Federation where they elected a chairman. The Western Territories also had a chairman. They squabbled to establish superiority of their particular region. Unlike the War Between the States fought in the nineteenth century, these folks harbored serious weapons of mass destruction, hence the artificially conceived kids living in the caves.

Every part of The North had caves. In some places the kids lived in abandoned missile silos; thousands in the Iron Mountain where government officials used to hide from threats of danger, and many in massive underground housing, leftovers of shopping malls.

So, North and South were meeting in secret and she was about to be an unwilling witness to it. She plugged her ears so she would not hear them, and then unplugged them as curiosity got the better of her.

I am not here for idle chatter, President Elliott. We have business to complete. I don’t give a hoot in hell where your granddaddy lived. Conrad’s Southern voice mocked the president’s Boston accent, still prevalent after a hundred years of living in Albany.

Elliott laughed, an ugly, guttural sound. He would never be invited to address any of her caves. Hostility is unnecessary, Mr. Chairman. I’m here at your invitation.

Today isn’t as simple as working out population balances.

Everything is simple when you know what you’re doing. You are soon to be re-elected and your people need to know you are in charge. All you need do, my good man, is tell me my part of the plan.

Re-elected? What a joke. As far as she knew Conrad and Elliott had been elected leaders ever since The Devastation.

It was a moment before Chairman Conrad spoke. The time has come for us to complete our alliance.

Alliance? She certainly understood what the word meant, and it did not fit the lessons she had learned. The North and The South remained bitter enemies.

The West, Elliott said.

We have to face reality, son. Neither of our schemes to repopulate our countries is working as planned, Chairman Conrad continued.

Now wait just a minute, I have certainly been doing my part to create and promote the female enhancements so the men will want to reproduce with them. It is not my fault no one has any libido. As head of the cosmetics production, her job had been described as crucial to the redevelopment of the country. For the past fifteen years, nothing she created had worked to the satisfaction of the government overseers and so they continued conception in the old ways. Taylor knew plenty of attractive females lived throughout The North and more than enough men, but the Artificial Insemination Centers remained the only places where babies were created and planted in women’s wombs. She had had her own two requisite babies years ago. Annoyed at the conversation, she decided to record the rest of it to listen to later, after dinner. She set her communicator appropriately and zipped it into her chest pocket.

Not working? We need to give my plan more time, President Elliott said.

We’ve both tried various methods, now we must turn to Silent Autumn.

Silent Autumn? Elliott’s voice rose an octave.

We must destroy the Western Territory’s government, starting with finding Neil Fleming and his upstart protégé, Kingsford. Eradicate them from this Earth.

What about their people?

"According to the plan, which need I remind you, you helped to formulate, their people shall be enslaved and absorbed into our societies. They will still continue to produce our food, however under our terms and conditions." Conrad sounded gleeful.

And our people none the wiser? You think they won’t notice a change in the complexions of our populations?

She cringed in the corner. His voice sounded coated with cooking oil. Slime.

We’ll introduce them slowly. The fairest will be routed to The North, the darker to The South.

And the rest? Nobody will notice an Asian face?

Conrad did not answer right away. By the sound of their footsteps, she could tell they kept up a continuous circuit of the store. We can save them for later, when it becomes apparent we’ve decided to mix the races once again as they were in the early days of the united country. They’ll accept whatever we say and do.

The Western Territories have huge, out of control populations. What will they accept?

They’ll continue to labor on behalf of their fellow countrymen. Chairman Conrad paused. Not exactly fair how they became a wealthy nation on the backs of our people.

I agree, Elliott’s voice boomed right next to the door. Her heart nearly stopped in fear he might try to pull it open and discover her. It is time to relieve the West of their leaders and bring the people back into the fold.

Once again we shall be The United States.

Silence for a moment before Elliott said, Keep in mind when we set the plan in motion, we have to be careful not to destroy too much of their population, we will still need the farm workers. They’re the ones feedin’ us.

She could almost see the tall, dark-skinned Conrad shrug with his head tilted to the right, his manner when he was being sneaky. And they shall continue, except we will make the rules and provide for them the same way we provide for our own people. Fair is fair. We are technologically far ahead of them. We have much to offer their people including modern farming techniques. Never fear, my friend, we’re both in search of the same things.

Are we? I’m seeking happiness for my people in productivity. Elliott on the stand speaking to the crowds. Happiness for Taylor would be sitting in her office instead of hiding in a backwater store hearing the two leaders plotting the overthrow of a third country. Until that moment, her life had been perfect.

As am I, Conrad said expansively, and then his voice changed. And as long as we keep their minds dulled through undemanding entertainments as rewards for a few hours work a week, they are happy.

Few hours! The general population of civic workers toiled six days a week, often for ten hours a day.

Sometimes, Elliott said, I believe our own minds are dulled by the ease with which we gain control over them. The cloak of leadership sits heavily on my shoulders. Too many empty cities. Buildings falling so far into decay they can never be recovered. Infrastructures nearly gone. As much as we send the workers out, there are never enough of them to cover all the needs.

You try to get them to work more than thirty hours, Conrad said and then sighed heavily. I guess we brought it on ourselves. We do need the people of the West to join forces with us. If the West agreed to join us when we first tried to negotiate with them, trouble might have been avoided. It is their own fault we must take this action.

She closed her eyes and tried to calculate how much time remained before the bell signaled the power restored. If it went off before the men finished, she would be dead, or at least disappeared, and not have to worry about anybody’s future.

So, we have one more item to discuss, Conrad said.

How much longer could she remain hidden?

On with it.

Who will be put in place of their fallen leaders?

I still say it should be my vice president. Elliott sounded as though they had had this discussion before. He follows my orders to the letter. And he’s young enough to carry on, eighty-four last week.

"I prefer my Prime Minister. He’s an idiot. The people we plant in the real power positions are of the same mind as we. The masses need direction; they need us to care for them."

You’re not campaigning right now, Conrad. Knock it off. Let’s get rid of their leaders on the last day of autumn, everyone will be out celebrating the longest night of the year.

Or the shortest day. It depends on how you look at it. Let us agree with Harris and Markham as co-chairs and see how the dust settles once they’re in place. The better man will stand out.

Dedicated Neutron Bombs. Conrad chuckled. Nearly wiped out the entire nation at one time, but now refined enough to take out precise numbers. Their Winter Solstice Gala will be our Silent Autumn Surprise.

Can we avoid eliminating the children? They’re much easier to train than adults.

Getting squeamish in your old age, Elliott? Conrad laughed. Never fear, when we are finished with the Western Territory, there will be enough survivors to work the farms and care for the livestock, do the manufacturing. We’ll establish a mating system to breed only the traits we want.

Ah, I wonder what would have happened had you and I been bred in such a manner.

It was our good fortune to come into this world the natural way, products of the last of the rebels.

And, hopefully go out the same way, naturally of old age. Elliott sounded solemn.

"A hundred and fifty being the average life span for men, we still have a few years left. Keep in mind, you and I are not of the general population. Now go run your country and stay out of trouble until December twentieth. It might be time for some saber rattling on the airwaves. Have your media announcers discuss the new threat from the West and I will put out word The North is gearing up for a hostile takeover. We’ll keep the population wondering and worrying."

We can put out I-views from when Europe collapsed. They’ll never notice the difference. One I-view looks like another when it comes to war.

I’ll let you decide, my friend. Operation Silent Autumn is now official.

Their footsteps receded.

Taylor waited several minutes before daring to peer out the door. She heard nothing. She still stepped cautiously across the small back room toward the charger, prepared to remove her PT when she heard more footsteps outside. With no time to retreat to the washroom, she edged to the darkest corner of the room and slid down behind a wooden chair. She huddled, heart pounding, her mind racing with everything she had overheard.

You can call the old man back now, a deep male voice, not Conrad’s, said as the footsteps approached the rear of the store.

Another man laughed. He’s not coming back. This meeting was top secret. The president gave the order himself.

The footsteps ceased followed by the sounds of a scuffle. What’d you do?

"Got rid of him, like we were told. What did you expect? He had an accident out in the woods. Somebody might find him in a few months."

"You killed him? Those are not our orders. What about the Life is Precious Doctrine?"

Precious to you and me, maybe. What future did he have? Living in this dump providing useless crap for the ten people who live around here, the second man’s nasally voice whined.

More scuffling.

Go use the john; don’t know why you couldn’t go behind a tree!

Deep Voice must have pushed Whiney Voice against a pile of merchandise. Things fell and rolled on the floor. Taylor cowered in the corner, hands over her head as if this would somehow make her invisible.

Someone stumbled into the back room. She stopped breathing.

What’s the matter with the lights? It dark back here.

She could picture him flapping his arms, trying to trigger the light sensor. He banged into something, probably a chair. A loud obscenity followed.

Deep Voice, footsteps approaching, said, Find the door and let’s get out of here. C’mon. I’ll help.

Oh, dear God, two men fumbling in the dark.

Hey, look, Deep Voice said. Someone’s charging a PT. I didn’t see anyone else around, did you?

Maybe he went home while it charged. There wasn’t anyone around when we surveyed the place.

No one out in the country has a right to a Personal Transporter.

Even with her eyes shut, she could tell one of them turned on a portable light.

Well, son-of-a-bitch, Whiney Voice said.

His footsteps came close and she lowered her arms, and opened her eyes. The bright beam of a hand-held light blinded her.

Whiney Voice giggled.

Wait! Deep Voice ordered.

For what? We have to get rid of her; she heard them, she had to. Not even you and I are allowed to know what they talked about. She’s gotta go.

Drop your weapon, Randall. No one else dies, at least not until we determine what she’s doing here.

Keep arguing, boys. She considered ways to scramble away from this situation.

I said drop your weapon! Deep Voice repeated.

Grabbing the opportunity, she kicked up at the light and knocked it out of Whiney Voice’s hand, then twisted and lunged forward on her hands and knees.

The two men grappled above her as she managed to wedge her way beyond them to the main part of the store. She heard a buzz. Not good. One of them used his weapon. Even worse, she heard one of them fall.

She prayed for Deep Voice to be the winner.

The wood floor creaked as she tried to make her silent escape. However now she was in the light of the main room. A hand grabbed the back of her suit collar.

Get up! Deep Voice said.

She turned around on her hands and knees to confront heavy black boots. Shiny, heavy black boots topped with bright blue, form-fitting pants. Raising her head slowly, she traced the body from the knees to the strong thighs, up to a lean abdomen, topped by a broad chest over which reigned the bottom side of a neatly chiseled chin.

Stand up.

She fell back on her haunches, exhausted from the tension. I don’t think I can, she said.

He held out a hand. You ought to be able; you have a PT and they aren’t handed out lightly. You have to be pretty damned fit.

I am, she said as she used his hand to help herself to her feet. After seeing the body, she expected to find a face similar to her male models’. This man’s face and head displayed a snug helmet with dark eye covers, the kind to be seen through, not into. The headgear obscured his head and most of his upper face, leaving only a square jaw exposed along with even white teeth in a smiling mouth. The type of helmet reserved for National Security Officers. They worked minor terrorism right up to protecting the president. They were commonly called the secret police, even Gestapo, after the German police from an earlier century.

Your unit is cooked.

She heard the words. It took a moment for her to realize he meant her PT charge had completed. Once he said it, the tiny beeps caught her attention.

Well, then, she said with far more confidence than she felt, I’ll just get it and carry on with my travels. I need to get home before dark.

His right arm popped up machine-like to stop her from passing him. Sorry, home isn’t going to happen any time soon.

Uh-oh. She would be headed directly to a penal colony to work for the betterment of the state and its people. Her shoulders sagged. My name is Taylor Left Hand F-08635. I’m a cosmetologist, she tried explaining. I teach young girls how to enhance their appearance so when the time comes, men will desire procreation with them. They must be attractive. She stopped talking. What did he care?

Not only did he not care, he laughed. An important job to be sure, Taylor F. How did you get into that field? You’re already beautiful, you didn’t need to learn such a trade.

She turned her back on him and looked out the window where the two leaders stood talking twenty yards away from the vehicles. At least a dozen security officers surrounded them in a large circle.

It was her job to look beautiful, to serve as a model for the girls. I’m a chemist first, the primary officer of the country’s cosmetics industry second, and a good friend of the teacher at School Four. She could not run out the front door. If she could get past this giant of a security guard, she might have a chance in the woods. Once she reached a clearing, she could take off and be out of reach within seconds. Would his weapon reach her once she rose above the treetops?

School Four. Shirley the Redhead. Nice girl, he said.

Alarms bells shrieked in her head. Why would he know Shirley? Her mouth went dry.

She would have made a fine mother. You can tell by the way she cares for her wards.

Do you know all the teachers? she could not help asking.

Part of my job. Can’t have subversives teaching, now can we?

Oh. Part of her hoped somehow Shirley had found a little forbidden romance in her life. I need some water. With luck, he would go to retrieve a bottle and she could make a dash for the rear exit and home.

Instead, he nudged her from behind. Water’s up front near the entrance. I could use a drink, too. On your knees. His hand pressed down on her shoulder.

What?

Don’t want to be seen, do you?

She shook her head, more in wonder than as a negative and dropped to her knees again. They’ll see me when you take me in.

Keep your voice down. Let’s get the water and then we can discuss our next step.

"Our…?

Move! Randall won’t stay out long, maybe another ten or fifteen minutes and he won’t be too happy when he wakes up.

She skittered around on her knees to face him. What’s going on here? Who are you and what are you up to?

"I’m trying to get a drink of water before we leave by the back door. That is what you want to do, isn’t it?"

Not with you.

Stay low. I’ll get the water.

She eased against the counter and kept an eye on him as he plucked two bottles of water from the stack. He then stood up and placed them on the counter, wiping his hand automatically across the PayScan. Her eyes were level with cans of beans on a low shelf behind him, which she stared at between his legs, a most uncomfortable situation.

You crawl to the back room while I go out and let them know Randall ate something bad for lunch. He is going to be a while in the john. Take your pack and wait for me.

She smiled. He made this easy. Before she could move, he added, I can always find you, so don’t try running. I will get my pack out of the van and tell them I’m going to refresh my charge while I wait for Randall. Got it?

She got it. I’m going, she whispered, hoping sincerely she would be back at her office before the sun set.

Now what? The only thing she wanted this morning was to conduct the class at Shirley’s school and play catch-up during lunch. She could have remained in her office, or even in a lab, an entire day and nothing would have happened. Frazzle crap.

Two

When he first saw the female about to be obliterated by Randall, she cowered in the corner, but then she took control—his eyes moistened at the words—she took control of her own destiny and kicked Randall, giving herself a split second to escape. Suddenly, everything Max ever wanted came to him so clearly it was as if it had already been accomplished. He would kick back at his destiny, too.

He headed out to the president’s car. I’ll grab my PT and fill up the charge, he said. His hands trembled as he removed it from the rear of the van. While he was at it, he removed the batteries from the other two PTs and slipped them into his side pack. All eyes remained fixed on the two leaders, no one paid attention to Max.

Max bounced up the steps and into the store, grabbed a few power bars as he passed the counter, and headed out the back. Taylor stood outside, her back pressed against the outside of the building, her PT clutched to her chest.

You need to know what those leaders were talking about… she started.

No, I don’t, and if you want to live, you never heard anything, got it?

You mean I’m free to go home? She pulled herself upright, squared her shoulders and faced him. What’s going on? Why aren’t you taking me to a penal colony?

You aren’t going home, nor are you going to a penal colony. You’re coming with me.

Her eyes flashed in anger. "I am not coming with you; I am going home. If anyone comes looking for me, I’ll tell them I never heard a thing. I slept through the whole meeting."

Just by admitting you were here, you put your life in jeopardy. Max took her by the arm, pleased by her spunk. You shouldn’t even know there was a meeting. When Randall comes to, he’s going to report us.

Why didn’t you kill him like he killed Hawkins, the storekeeper? she said as she trudged alongside him up the hillside and into the woods.

You heard that, too? He picked up his pace.

I did. I can be trusted to never say a word.

Not too many people out today because of the early morning rains. Torrential, weren’t they? He needed to get away before the others noticed him missing and did not want to waste time arguing with her.

She yanked her arm free, though she continued by his side, no need to take hold of her again.

Don’t you even want to know what they talked about? She charged ahead of him using trees to pull herself up the steep slope.

I got away from Randall, I’ll get away from you, she added.

Max grinned as he followed her.

Three

Halfway down the other side of the hill they came to a clearing.

Hurry, get your suit on. He indicated her PT and then donned his own.

Spreading their silk-like wings, they took off together. He headed west, away from her home, office and cosmetics house.

After flying in silence for fifteen minutes, she gave up, clicked on her helmet radio, and was the first to speak. Do you have a plan, a place to go?

He did not answer.

Where are we going? Taylor ramped up the power on her PT and swooped ahead of him, continuing west toward the setting sun. It would be dark soon. She hoped he had a plan. The landscape below did not offer anything in the way of shelter, though did offer brilliantly colored treetops, treetops, and more treetops with an occasional flash of gray road surface.

No, he said.

No, what?

No to your questions. I do not have a plan nor do I know where we are going, only heading west. Keep talk on the radio to a minimum. We don’t want to be overheard.

Slowing to let him catch up to her, she asked, Are you sure I can’t make a U-turn and head home? I swear I’ll never say a word…

They’ll find you and make you talk. You aren’t the only chemist in The North.

Not exactly what she wanted to hear. What do we do when our batteries run out?

I have extras. They should get us a good distance away from Albany.

Tonight? He could not possibly hope to travel at night; their directional aides only ran fifty miles from their personal Ground Zeros. The windscreens on the Personal Transporters were designed to shield eyes from the light. As night travel had been forbidden ages ago, the designers had not worried about lighting enhancements for the PTs, with the exception of warning signals in the event of poor visibility due to weather.

We could travel tonight if necessary. I suspect it will take them a while to get organized. It’s not often a National Security Officer goes AWOL, especially one defecting.

"So now we’re defecting? I don’t want to defect; I want to go home and pretend this whole day never happened." She felt herself scowling and knew it was wrong, but he could not see her face any more than she could see his. It occurred to her she could be defecting with the ugliest man on the planet.

Aha! he said softly.

Aha, what?

Keep your voice down; they could hear us on the ground.

Who?

He pointed ahead to a rooftop in a clearing, the trees several yards from the structure. It might be inhabited.

Not likely. No one lives in individual houses anymore.

You never know. We’ll glide down over there near the stream and work our way back to the house.

Taylor raised her hands in agreement, convinced he knew exactly where they were—at a penal colony. He only pretended to befriend her, to make her expose her mutinous and disloyal nature.

Once they landed, she removed her PT and took a drink from the bubbling stream. Max did the same, except he dropped to the ground and stuck his entire face in the water. She sat back on her haunches and waited in the darkening light to see what her captor looked like. He shook his head like a dog and water sprayed around him, some cold drops hitting the breathable fabric of her suit. Long dark hair hung down over his eyes, reaching his nose. After pushing himself to a standing position, he brushed his hair back with both hands.

That’s better, he said. Ready to walk?

Not yet. The rest of his face went well with what she had seen earlier, a prominent, well-sculpted nose, a high forehead and dark brows to go with the dark hair. In the dim light, she could not see the color of his eyes. I want to know exactly where we are going. You denied having a plan when we started out.

Want an energy bar? He pulled one out of his side pack and held it out.

Sure. She took it, removed the wrapper and chewed on the chocolate flavored crunch bar.

He laughed.

What’s funny? She was burying the wrapper, knowing it would disintegrate within days and become part of the soil.

Dinner and a drink. We’ve had our first date.

What’s that supposed to mean?

It’s what people used to do to get to know one another before deciding if they would make good mates. Don’t you read?

Not history.

He reached out to help her to her feet. Once up, she refused to move away from the stream. First, tell me where we are going.

Up the incline toward the building to see if it is a good place to spend the night. The darker it gets, the more difficult it will be to find our way. If you don’t want to come, stay out here by yourself and I’ll find you in the morning at first light. He turned his back and began walking.

Wait up. The idea of animals and crawly things terrified her. He stopped and waited for her to catch up.

From here on out, no talking.

She grabbed on to his belt as they crept through the shadows toward the structure.

Four

An owl hooted at the same time something scurried across Max’s path. Startled, Max pulled up short. Taylor ran into him.

Warn me when you’re going to stop, she whispered in his ear.

Hush. We should be getting close.

Taking her hand, he moved forward, depending on brief flashes of