They looked old and dirty. Both had long hair. It was a man and a woman, holding hands, close enough now that I could make out their mud-covered faces and thin, frayed clothing.
I moved away from the hiding place, away from my little family and out into the open. I pushed the release button and the knife blade flashed out with a harsh metallic click. No one, absolutely no one, would hurt my family. I would do whatever it took.
They were at the end of the span, walking down toward me with their hands held out in front of them, reaching out to me with their palms up and fingers outstretched. I held the knife in front of me, my arm extended. Sunlight reflected off the blade, flashing sparks of light.
âWe mean you no harm,â the man said.
âStay back,â I said. âStay back. Come no closer.â I didnât want them to see my family. Surely, they were well hidden by the rock. How foolish I had been to go to the river, exposed and unprotected!
I walked cautiously toward them, trying to measure their intent. Who were they and where did they come from? Finally, I was within a few feet of them, close enough to see their pale blue eyes, and the knotty veins in their thin arms.
âSit, child. Talk to us,â the woman said, a bit out of breath, as she lowered herself onto a log. She folded her legs feebly in front of her. The man, shoulders hunched, remained standing beside her.
âWho are you?â I asked. âAnd what do you want?â
âIâm Ingrid,â the woman said, pointing to herself. âAnd this is my husband, Paul.â
âWhat do you want?â I asked again.
âWonât you sit and talk?â Ingrid asked. âWhat is your name, child?â
âNo, I will not sit. I want to know what you want. I want to know who you are, what you are doing here.â
âWeâre surviving,â Paul said. âThatâs all. Surviving. Just like youâre trying to do.â
âHow do you know what Iâm trying to do? How do you know anything about me?â
Paul sat beside his wife on the log, his thin legs stretched in front of him. He had no shoes; the soles of his feet were thick with calluses, his toenails long yellow horns. âYou must have escaped somehow. Lord only knows how. But sooner or later, youâll get caught. They all do eventually. They are nothing if not persistent and ruthless.â
âJust where are you from?â I asked, my hand shaking. âWhat are you doing here?â
âWe slipped away a year before the relocations and weâve been surviving the best we can ever since,â Ingrid said. âArenât you frightened that theyâll find you? Theyâre probably already searching.â She turned to her husband. âWhat are they called? The ones who search? What are they called?â
âEarth Protectors,â he answered, patiently. âFrom the Earth Protection Agency.â
I remembered the voices of the men we heard the first day of our escape. They had said, âThere will be hell to pay. Theyâll call in Earth Protectors.â And this man and woman claimed to be shadow people, those who had run away. Could I trust them?
âMaybe youâre part of them. Maybe youâre disguised so you can fool us. Maybe Iâm in danger right now, talking to you.â My extended arm was getting tired; I switched the knife to my other hand.
âYes, weâre all in danger right now, out here in the open. Let us help hide you. We mean no harm to you,â Paul told her. He placed his right hand flat against his chest. âI promise you.â
âWhy do you want to help me? If theyâre looking for me and you help me, well, isnât that dangerous for you?â
âWeâve been safe all these years. We want the same safety for you.â
âWhy? Why do you care about me? What am I to you?â I heard a twig snap behind me and turned my head.
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham