Molly - Part 1

Chapter 8

Fields of wheat craning their necks to the evening's sigh, a thousand promises kept hidden from the war machine and its incredible hunger. Out ahead some light did manage to hit the horizon and surely the sky was not so bleak as it might have been. This was Hannah's wish; she kept it deep set in her heart, that the world was not a cold, dead place and that one day they would wake from this nightmare.

She tilted her face so that she could catch rare sunlight. The wind was nearly howling now, yet Hananh did not mind, her hair dancing, her eyes fixed on the future ahead, spellbound not by promises of god or state but of love.

She fell along the wayside, coursing down and to the fields where the farmers were already gathering their crops, using scythes to slash at the stalks and piling them into great baskets which they hefted onto shoulders, their strange wide-brim hats hiding away the dirt on their face. Some were better at this work than others, but Hannah knew it didn't matter. They were a collective. They were in control of their own strange fate.

She stopped, then turned from left to right. Each side was wasteland. And there--a stain in the distance but still clearly seen--was the city. Steam belched from that mechanical heap, cranes twisting and turning with the coming of more expansion, more desecration. And when she looked up into the sky she could see god; he was right there, watching, wondering what they were trying to do and why they were still fighting.

A truck roared through the division in the fields, marred but functional. It skidded to a halt and out came Rorie, wiping his brow and dusting off his gloves.

"Good day for it," he said.

Hannah smiled, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. Pulling back, she realized something was on his mind, a slight shift in the eyes, a lack of commitment to something pure.

"What's wrong?"

Rorie sighed through his nose. "Ted's back. Apparently a bunch of people got clipped."

"When? I didn't see--"

"Last night. Wayne doesn't want anyone to know yet until he's alerted the families."

She hugged him again, and this time he fell into the embrace. By now some of the farmers saw that Rorie was back and had come up to wait for any news.

Hannah sought out the horizon again as they drove back up the hill, and this time she saw not beauty but twilight's last call. She leaned on her arm, watching, powerless to do anything but look and wait.

"It drives me crazy sometimes," she said.

She could feel Rorie's eyes on her.

"What?"

A pair of hovercars passed from the city, screeching against the sky as they soared overhead and were lost among clouds.

"Nothing."

They passed under the gate and into the stables and smithies and additional farms for the more delicate produce, greenhouses whispering as the sprinklers turned and out ahead was the council-house, once a millionaire's mansion now used as a beacon for the weary. They'd culled that former extravagance and replaced it with something better, more humble. Everything was tinted orange, everything was shifting in a haze, and yes sometimes Hannah did wonder if any of it was real.

Rorie cut the engine and stepped outside. "Do you need help?"

"No, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine Rorie."

"Okay."

Hannah came over and helped Rorie unload the tarmacs and his bag, tossing it on a palate and then going to the council building. There was already a small group. Sally in particular seemed shaken, her face pale as she paced back and forth in front of the building.