âWeâll be sloppy. Leave a trail. Drop things. Break off branches. Make it easy for them to track us. Letâs go.â
âItâs still pretty dark and hard to see. How soon till dawn?â
âMoonâs bright enough. And dawnâs not far off.â
He started along the edge of the stream and Joan followed. He stopped abruptly. âGive me the bucket.â She handed it over and he rummaged through it until he felt the clipboard. Ripping off a piece of paper, he crumpled it and tossed it where it could easily be seen.
They walked on a little farther. The paper, lifted by a small breeze, rolled into a stand of high weeds, partially hidden.
âAnd if they do follow us, what can we do?â
âWe have two guns. We can protect ourselves. Emmeline and David most likely canât.â He broke off a small branch overhanging the stream. It dangled there, useless as a broken crutch.
They walked slowly through the darkness.
Dawn came. They walked faster.
When the sun was directly overhead, they sat briefly in the woods beside the stream.
âItâs not going to take them very long to figure out weâre missing,â Joan said.
He thought for a moment. âI donât know about that. They didnât have any control of the situation, from what I saw. Things broke down pretty quickly. But, yes, eventually theyâll know weâre gone. Itâs inevitable. I just think it might take some time.â
John stared at the water, watching it ripple, bits and pieces of leaves and twigs floating past them. âStrange, isnât it,â he said after a moment. âThey had total control over us for so long. And we let them.â
âYouâre right. But why talk about that now?â Joan said. She lookedaround at the wilderness surrounding them, the trees that towered over them, and the deep shadows of the forest. âWhat difference does it make?â
âNone, I guess. Time to get moving again.â
âHow far do you plan on us going?â Joan asked. She stood and brushed leaves off her uniform.
John thought for a moment. âWeâve already walked maybe eight to ten miles. The further upstream we go, the farther downstream David can go. Weâll keep dropping clues.â He took the shed key from his pocket and pushed it deep into the underbelly of a rotten log. Then he took her hand, and squeezed it briefly, his large hand wrapped around her smaller one.
âThen what?â
âPray that Earth Protectors will follow us. Pray that Emmeline and David have time to find a safe hiding place downstream. Pray.â
A fish splashed in the stream, a silvery image that disappeared under the water. John broke off another branch, dropped another small bit of paper. They walked on.
âAnd if the Earth Protectors do follow us, then what?â Joan asked.
âThen weâll do what we have to do.â Johnâs voice was firm. âWhatever it takes, by whatever means necessary.â
They walked until dusk without stopping. After sharing one of the nourishment bottles from the bucket, Joan fell asleep on a mossy patch of ground. John stayed awake listening to the sound of the stream alongside them, the scurrying of animals in the underbrush, and Joanâs rhythmic breathing. In the distance, animals howled long, mournful crescendos that cut through the night like knives. Pinpoint lights appeared, white against the dark sky. The full moon looked swollen, as though it could burst and pour its soul out onto the Earth.
This was no longer a false freedom. It was now a real but fragile one. John lay on his back staring at the tree branches above him and the faraway heavens beyond.
CHAPTER FIVE
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EMMELINE
Day 1
E lsaâs soft whimpers woke me. How long had I slept? It was still daylight, not yet time to move on. David was awake and looked flushed, his face and forehead red and damp with sweat. Using his left hand, David
Learning to Kill: Stories