that.”
“No?”
“You only know my real name because Bern let it slip.”
“And Bern? Is that his real name?”
“It is, but that's different. He’s not one of us who deal with problems, problems that our people have with the English. Zigg and I, and others, we break your laws as a matter of course, so we keep our names from you English. It doesn't apply for our everyday people.”
“You and Zigg are part of some sort of protective force?”
“Don’t make it sound too glamorous. The word we use is more like an orderly. We talk with the heads of the families, the Häupter , to decide our activities.”
“Like the meeting tomorrow that he was talking about?”
“Yeah.”
“So what should I expect? I mean, is there anything I need to know? Any certain way I should act?”
“No. Nothing I can think of.”
“Do I need to cover my head? You know, like some sort of bonnet?”
He smiled faintly. “No. Remember, we try to blend in.”
“And for how long will we be there?”
“I don't know. One thing though - you should try to keep a low profile, since your face is all over the news. They have a little farm stand out by the road, and the English come by. Stay away from the road, even the driveway. We don't want anyone to spot you.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “It feels pretty bleak, to think I’ll have to worry about being identified for the rest of my life.”
“You’ll get used to it. I've been a fugitive since I was twelve.”
“I hope you're right. By the way, can we stop soon? I have to feed Hughie.”
“We’re almost there.”
“That's good. You must be tired, too.”
“Yeah.”
“It's very pretty around here. I do like the country. I wasn't totally opposed to moving out of the city, when my husband wanted to. It seemed like a good idea for raising a family. We just bit off a bit more than we could chew. It's a lot of work.”
“It is, especially when you have no one around, no family. That makes everything harder.”
“My husband had friends who were doing similar things, they would share ideas and help each other out. But they were all on that learning curve together.”
“So what happened to these friends after your husband was gone? They never offered to help?”
“Not after the Loyalty Counselors called on them. Everybody's terrified of that. The government doesn't have to prove you're guilty. You have to prove you're innocent. And you could lose everything while you're fighting.”
“That's how they like it.”
“One of his friends dropped off a care package, a box of canned food, at the door a few days after he was killed. He didn't even knock. I saw him drive away and never saw him again.”
“You'd better get down,” Harm said, “so you won't be seen up here.”
Erin looked ahead and saw three cars parked at the side of the road, in front of a canopy with a long folding table set under it. Four people were out of the cars and in front of the table to see the various items for sale. She quickly bent over to the side.
“I'm surprised that this is legal,” she remarked as they turned down the driveway. “I thought all food had to go through the government depositories.”
“It varies by state. Here, for now, there’s a loophole, because the system isn't set up to deal with many perishable vegetables. So those who can afford it - and they probably all work for government - they drive out here to get what they can.”
They went down a long driveway lined with walnut trees, past a white, two-story colonial farmhouse, then down a slope and around to the other side of an old bank barn, where he stopped.
“We made it. You can get up now. We’ll walk to the house from here. But you'd better stay in the car for a minute. I'm about to be attacked.”
He got out and went around to the back as if to retrieve the bags, when two strapping teenage boys in tee shirts, blue jeans, and dirty mucking boots rushed at him from the barn,
“No?”
“You only know my real name because Bern let it slip.”
“And Bern? Is that his real name?”
“It is, but that's different. He’s not one of us who deal with problems, problems that our people have with the English. Zigg and I, and others, we break your laws as a matter of course, so we keep our names from you English. It doesn't apply for our everyday people.”
“You and Zigg are part of some sort of protective force?”
“Don’t make it sound too glamorous. The word we use is more like an orderly. We talk with the heads of the families, the Häupter , to decide our activities.”
“Like the meeting tomorrow that he was talking about?”
“Yeah.”
“So what should I expect? I mean, is there anything I need to know? Any certain way I should act?”
“No. Nothing I can think of.”
“Do I need to cover my head? You know, like some sort of bonnet?”
He smiled faintly. “No. Remember, we try to blend in.”
“And for how long will we be there?”
“I don't know. One thing though - you should try to keep a low profile, since your face is all over the news. They have a little farm stand out by the road, and the English come by. Stay away from the road, even the driveway. We don't want anyone to spot you.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “It feels pretty bleak, to think I’ll have to worry about being identified for the rest of my life.”
“You’ll get used to it. I've been a fugitive since I was twelve.”
“I hope you're right. By the way, can we stop soon? I have to feed Hughie.”
“We’re almost there.”
“That's good. You must be tired, too.”
“Yeah.”
“It's very pretty around here. I do like the country. I wasn't totally opposed to moving out of the city, when my husband wanted to. It seemed like a good idea for raising a family. We just bit off a bit more than we could chew. It's a lot of work.”
“It is, especially when you have no one around, no family. That makes everything harder.”
“My husband had friends who were doing similar things, they would share ideas and help each other out. But they were all on that learning curve together.”
“So what happened to these friends after your husband was gone? They never offered to help?”
“Not after the Loyalty Counselors called on them. Everybody's terrified of that. The government doesn't have to prove you're guilty. You have to prove you're innocent. And you could lose everything while you're fighting.”
“That's how they like it.”
“One of his friends dropped off a care package, a box of canned food, at the door a few days after he was killed. He didn't even knock. I saw him drive away and never saw him again.”
“You'd better get down,” Harm said, “so you won't be seen up here.”
Erin looked ahead and saw three cars parked at the side of the road, in front of a canopy with a long folding table set under it. Four people were out of the cars and in front of the table to see the various items for sale. She quickly bent over to the side.
“I'm surprised that this is legal,” she remarked as they turned down the driveway. “I thought all food had to go through the government depositories.”
“It varies by state. Here, for now, there’s a loophole, because the system isn't set up to deal with many perishable vegetables. So those who can afford it - and they probably all work for government - they drive out here to get what they can.”
They went down a long driveway lined with walnut trees, past a white, two-story colonial farmhouse, then down a slope and around to the other side of an old bank barn, where he stopped.
“We made it. You can get up now. We’ll walk to the house from here. But you'd better stay in the car for a minute. I'm about to be attacked.”
He got out and went around to the back as if to retrieve the bags, when two strapping teenage boys in tee shirts, blue jeans, and dirty mucking boots rushed at him from the barn,
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