Heaven's Not Enough

Part III

Chapter 1 – The Book of Matthew

December 8, 2019.

Devil's Tower, WA (Population: 54)

It was a frigid, clear day on Lake Shannon, cold enough for the lake to freeze. The people of Devil's Tower had weathered a blizzard, and were hard at work repairing the damage. Among them were Eliza and Ralph.

The worst of the storm was suffered by one of their lookout towers. The roost was built into one of the original structures of the old factory, a way station for an old conveyor system. Sam, the tower's lookout, had survived the blizzard's sudden and unexpected wrath through sheer dumb luck; he had gone down to urinate one minute, and the wind tore the tower's cabin apart the next.

Eliza hammered and sawed replacement parts with the rest of the construction team, and was growing extremely sore. She worked herself ragged, sawing away at the boards. Ralph noticed her fatigue and he ordered her to take a break. It was the only way to deter her when she got so dead set on work.

Left with nothing to do, she resolved to head inside and find her mother.

She didn't need to look for long. She checked the commons room, then the classroom. There June was, by the chalkboard. June was reading a book to a dozen kids, each of them sitting cross legged before her on a rug. Eliza didn't interrupt her mother, instead sitting in one of the chairs near the back. She listened.

It was the final entry of a trilogy. Eliza had bought it for a book report at school, long ago.

It told the tale of children who grew up on an empty space ship, in the care of simple machines, and without the guidance of adults. Without parents, the children lost themselves to tribalism. They were guided only by "teachings:" recordings stashed away in old computers, simple videos of adults that taught them language and basic skills.

They did not understand the nature of the ship they lived in, nor did they know who or what they were, and they had never set foot on Earth, nor any other planet. They suffered for the mistakes of their parents, and tragically, they didn't even know why.

But the machines were failing. The ship was doomed. In desperation, one child made his way to the forbidden, cursed center of a ship. A final adult survived there on life support, and told this child his tale. His people were exiles banished from Earth long ago, and they all perished before they could find a suitable planet to live on.

This final adult had no stake in the future, dying as he was. He was old. Still, he selflessly gave the children the knowledge they needed to make landfall on a planet. They could begin anew... but only if they could survive their tribalism long enough to get there.

That was what Eliza remembered of the story, anyway. She found it to be an apt description of their circumstances. As far as Eliza could remember, that book had a happy ending, too.

June finished the session up at the end of the next chapter. "Alright, everyone. That's all for now! Mr. Morris left you homework, so don't forget to do it. Due tomorrow, before song time, and not a moment later."

June smiled at Eliza as the kids shuffled out of the room. Eliza smiled back. "Want to read me a story too, Mom?"

June chuckled as she looked her daughter over. "Tired, sweetheart?"

"A little," Eliza admitted. "You had those kids good."

"Oh, it's not difficult. I hope you don't mind, I raided your bookshelf."

Eliza shrugged. "No, it's fine. The books belong to everyone now."

June gathered up a few things from her desk, which in truth was just a few boards nailed together. A dusty chalkboard was behind her and bore some general, basic math problems. Eliza knew they were running low on chalk, but her mother would find a way to adapt. She was sure of it.

"You're really good at this teaching thing, Mom. Think you'd ever be teaching kids?"

June grinned. "This, coming from my daughter."

"Yeah," Eliza chuckled. "You know what I mean."

"I guess I always did want to be a teacher," June said, with a happy sigh. "Your grandfather pushed me so hard into plant operations that I never really had the time to do this sort of thing. I'm kind of glad I let myself get swept up into this."

"I'm glad, Mom. It suits you, honest."

June nodded, cleaning up a few scattered books from the rows. "Have you seen your father today?"

"Haven't seen him today, no. I'll go look for him though. Did you want to see him?"

"Just wanted to point out to him that it's Sunday," June said, whimsically. "He's been a little aloof."

"Probably bored," Eliza guessed. "I'll take him out to do something. Maybe I can bring my old man fishing, talk with him a bit."

June winced. "Careful on that ice if you go."

"Duh, Mom." They shared a hug before Eliza left.

She searched for her father, and again reflected on the book her mother was reading. She realized that her mother must have put some serious thought into its selection. There were a lot of kids at Devil's Tower. Like the kids of the story, they might live long enough to survive in a post-AI, post-technology world. But for the time being, the youngest children still didn't fully understand their situation or why they had to leave Concrete behind.

In truth, Eliza didn't expect things to go as well as they had after the dam raid. Santiago hadn't been wrong about the Army's indifference to their situation. In the stress of fighting a war against anti-uploaders, the military forgot about the dam completely. Its larger cousin to the north had also been disabled by Santiago's fighters. From Eliza's scouting, she determined it was long abandoned by its operators. Probably uploaded, she had guessed.

Cut off as they were, the people of Devil's Tower had no way of knowing what was going on in the outside world except through the Neo-Luddites and their own recon. This meant that their news was sparse and filtered, or otherwise hard to come by. Early on, Eliza learned from wayward travelers that most of the country wasn't suffering from any widespread war. She was sure they were suffering in other ways, though. Worse ways.

Even half a year on, the raid on the dam was fresh in the minds of the remaining engineers. But Eliza did her best to let that day make her stronger, because letting the trauma destroy her was not an option in war-torn New Cascadia.

That's what the Neo-Luddites were calling the Pacific Northwest now, based on some go-nowhere northwest secessionist movement of days gone by. A new country based on becoming one with their bio-region didn't seem so foreign a concept to Eliza anymore. Around her camp, she took to calling the region by the name too, if only because the absurdity amused her.

For Eliza's people, the price of living free of Celestia meant living by the rules of the Neo-Luddites. Eliza considered it a small price to pay. Strangely, the rebels became more amicable as the months went on. Most of them, anyway. The guerillas would inspect the camp occasionally, and sometimes Eliza would encounter them in the field. "Live by the rules," Santiago had once said, "and you have nothing to fear from us."

No cars. No radios. No phones. No computers. Nothing with a speaker, receiver, or transmitter. Some technology was allowed, but only after inspection.

Simple rules. Agreeable, even. So, live by the rules they did. An idyllic life in the Valley now seemed... achievable. It took many months before someone pointed out to Eliza that no one had seen a plane or helicopter in quite some time. Perhaps they really could find peace in their isolation.

She shook herself from thought and continued her search for her father.

Rob hadn't been out in the yard, and wasn't over in the commons. Eliza went to the stairs down to the lower levels and went to the dorms. At last, near the back, she finally found Rob in his cot. Obvious place, in retrospect. He was poring over his Bible by candlelight, huddled under a thick blanket. The light reflected against his thin glasses as he read.

"Hey, Dad." She sat gingerly on the cot across from him. "What's up?"

His face was barely visible in the dim light. "Oh, hey Eliza." He returned to the book. "Just reading."

"It's Sunday, you know. No service today?" she asked.

"Been busy interpreting." He shrugged. "Didn't feel like a sermon was appropriate, since everyone's so busy with that tower."

She smiled. "We've almost got all the parts done, so you don't need to worry too much longer. What book are you on?" She leaned forward, trying to see.

"Right now, Matthew. The Sermon on the Mount."

They sat quietly for a moment, and Rob continued to read.

"You been feeling okay, Dad?" Eliza looked at him expectantly.

"Oh, I'm fine, Liz. Just... having an off week, I suppose." He rubbed his tired eyes.

"Bored?"

At this, he looked up at her and shrugged. "A little, honestly."

She looked at him warmly. "Well, my arms feel like jello right now, been working all morning. Was thinking we could go fishing!"

He seemed to consider something very seriously. "Actually, you know, Liz... I was wondering if I could go with you on a scouting run, actually." He smiled a little. "You always need someone to go with you, right? Buddy system?"

Eliza looked at him strangely. "You want to go on a scouting run?"

She saw the glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Just to get around. I'm just feeling a little cooped up here, that's all."

"Well." She thought for a moment. "I'm not going to say no, Dad. But... are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I mean." Eliza frowned, and sighed. "Just... things still don't look so good outside of camp right now, and I don't have you up to speed on our signal system. We can drill it later though, if you want to make it a regular thing."

Rob closed his Bible and put it on the end table. "That's okay. I just wanted to see the old church again, you know?"

"Alright," she conceded warily. "I wanted to try and hit up the resort by Lake Tyee actually, so that gives us a chance to run by there. We could go out west a bit. I guess it'd be a good chance for us to... I don't know. Catch up. Bond."

"Throw around a football in our front yard?" Rob smirked.

She laughed. "Yeah, something like that. The Ludds swept the hills around town for squatters recently, so it should be safer to walk around in the open."

Rob slipped off of the cot and turned to fold his blanket. He slipped his Bible into his courier bag. "So, the resort?"

Eliza stood too, and stretched her sore arms hard again. "It's just an idea. I figure Tyee's far enough off Route 20 that it might not have been looted too bad yet. We're not hurting for food or anything right now, but it's good to keep the stockpiles up."

Her father nodded. "Then it's a plan. I'll go get some gear."

Half an hour later, they rode on horseback along the road into Concrete.

Eliza adjusted her scarf so that it covered her mouth and better protected her from the chill of the bleak, snowy valley. Rob carried his Bible bag on his hip and Eliza's shotgun on his back.

Eliza herself was armed with her bow. She had a quiver of twenty freshly made quality arrows, specifically tailored to fend off any wild dogs in town. She carried her pistol too, just in case. Everyone considered bullets precious, even as well stocked on munitions as they were.

"You said the guard tower's almost done?" Rob asked, as they crossed the Henry Thompson bridge back into town.

"We'll have it fixed by the end of tomorrow," Eliza replied. "Possibly, anyway. At least now we know we can't staff it anymore when the blizzards pick up. It doesn't hold like my tower does, not without a concrete roof. These blizzards are getting real rough."

"Hm." At the other end of the bridge, both of them drew their horses to a stop. They shared a glance.

"You ready?" Eliza asked.

"I'm ready," Rob said, with a sigh. "I think I am, anyway."

"I'm serious, Dad. The town's pretty grim. We can still turn back if you want."

Rob shook his head. "Mind's made up, Liz." They started onward.

Every single person from Concrete had fond memories of this very street. It wasn't very long ago that the road bustled with the life and activity, but one wouldn't know that from looking at it now. Between the disrepair and the graffiti, it was as if someone sucked the Devil out of Devil's Tower and dumped him right into Main Street.

First came the lodge. The building was derelict with all of its windows shattered. The walls were tagged, and the stairs to the upper level were destroyed from combat months earlier. There had once been bodies of slain Neo-Luddite fighters too, left behind to rot by a vindictive Army. The Devil's Tower scavenging team had buried some, Santiago's Riders had buried others.

Many vehicles and storefronts were burned out or tagged. She saw the spray painted emblem of the Neo-Luddites on a couple of buildings. The ravaged town upset Eliza every time she saw it. She'd spent at least a thousand dollars in the Concrete Theatre throughout her whole childhood, and remembered the unique kindness of its proprietors. Eliza had been inside each of the other businesses more times than she could count.

It was still her old home though, for better or for worse.

She thought of her adult years, as few as they were. Eliza had set out to ward over something – the very animals of the land themselves – but even they had died under her watch. The overgrown forest was a testament to the failure she took personally. She had once made peace with that failure, but watching it all fall apart further had reverted that peace rather quickly.

Her heart broke for her past. She missed the Eagle Festival along the Valley. She missed the aircraft fly-in event at the airstrip south of town, by her old school. She missed the drives down to Rockport for a bow sale, and she pined for the rush of joy from a hunt. She missed seeing all her friends from school all around town. Most of all, she missed the days when Devil's Tower was nothing but a sideshow attraction for spoiled brats and wistful town historians.

She savored that longing. Eliza would not allow herself to forget the extent of the crimes committed upon Concrete, lest she grow complacent. They would rebuild their town though, given time. She was sure of that.

A treacherous part of Eliza's heart sometimes wondered whether it was still worth fighting for this tiny scrap of her history, but that was a foolish thought, and she snuffed it whenever it appeared. She knew Andy and Ralph felt the same affection and attachment to their rich history, and that gave her some comfort. Defeatism was more difficult, and more socially unacceptable, when you were surrounded by optimists.

Ahead was the library, situated down at the foot of the hill just outside of the main street. Eliza remembered looting it with Eunice, the librarian, early on. They had pilfered as many books as they could carry in the Tacoma, then drove them up the hill to Devil's Tower. Neither of them had considered it a theft; it was the preservation of knowledge for future generations. They were in it for the long haul, after all. The Skagit County Library System could bill them.

Finally, they came to their old church, with its blue steeple. Rob lingered his eyes on the steeple as they approached.

Eliza exhaled slowly as if she had been holding her breath the whole time through town. She realized her father had been watching her too, and she looked at him sympathetically. He was visibly depressed by what he'd seen.

"I warned you, Dad."

He nodded silently as he looked ahead again.

The blue steeple was faded slightly. Her father's old Ford Explorer sat out front, desecrated and derelict, its tires slashed and windows shattered. The grass had overgrown and overtaken the facade, and the stairs were barely visible underneath nature's reclamation of the building. Many of the window panes had been shattered, and the crucifix upon the front had been pulled from the building somehow, its wooden frame resting against the railing of the stairs that led up to the door.

The words GOD IS DEAD were recently scrawled on the side of the building in red spraypaint. Probably some drifter, or some bored Luddite scout. Completely and utterly tasteless, and not the sort of thing Eliza wanted her father to see.

Eliza noticed Rob looking longingly at the doors. "You okay, Dad?" she asked softly.

"It kills me to see it like this," he answered. "Is it any better inside?"

She paused, considering. "I don't know. I haven't been inside since... before we moved away."

"Didn't have the courage?"

She looked at the damaged cross and frowned. "Something like that."

They moored off their horses on the stairway rail and made their way inside. Each step up the stairs was more difficult than the last. Eliza found the sensation strangely familiar.

Inside, it was dark and smelled of mold. Shafts of light forced their way through the shattered stained glass windows. Eliza looked at the pews, each of them water damaged and in considerable decay. Rob hovered in the doorway and stared, hesitating. Eliza put her hand on her father's back in encouragement. "Hey."

He exhaled slowly as he stepped away from her touch and walked down the aisle. At the second pew from the front, he sat, and Eliza sat with him. He pulled his bag into his lap and withdrew his Bible, holding it reverently. He stared at it. "You know, I never wanted to leave town, Elizabeth."

"I know," she said softly.

"I mean... I really did think nothing would change. I'm such a fool, but can you blame me? I've lived here my whole life. My father lived in our house, and his father, since the town was founded. Every one of us, a man of God. Preaching in the same House of God. We had a tradition, and we had a home. And it ends with me."

Regret flooded Eliza, for bringing him here now. "It doesn't, Dad. I'm still here."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "But our town's all gone now. And Thomas. Such plans, Elizabeth. For him."

She put her hand on his back. "It's not all gone. You still have me and Mom. One day, this will all change. The war will end, we can move back into town. We can start fresh, without power. We can live like the Amish. You'll see, Dad."

"But in the meantime," he muttered, "we live in Devil's Tower." He opened the Bible in his lap and flipped to an earmarked page. Eliza could not read it in the dark, but her father knew the verses by heart and he recited. "Matthew 5:14. A city on a hill cannot be hid. Then, those men found us."

It took her a moment, but Eliza recalled the rest of the verse. "Dad, you know that's a misinterpretation. That's not all it says."

"You are the light of the world, I know. But we have to shine, to be that city. Who do we shine on now?"

"The kids at camp? Their future? Mom, and everyone else? That's who we're shining on. We don't have a choice. We do what we can for the people we love."

He took in a deep breath. "As we live in the shadow of demons."

"As much as I hate to give the Ludds any credit," she said, "they've kept us safe from Celestia. They've given us the freedom to continue living here. We're safe from her here. The Army swept right through and kept going, didn't even give us a second glance."

Rob hung his head. "Elizabeth, I love you, so please don't take offense. In this, you are so young and naïve. The Neo-Luddites aren't protecting us, my child. They're our jailers, or... our wardens." He looked up at her, slowly. "They leave us alone, but they're also out there. Hurting people. Or don't you remember what they did to you and your mother? Don't you remember what it was like to walk down this street without a gun? To have neighbors that wouldn't shoot you for disobeying them? That's freedom."

She grimaced. "It isn't safe to think that way. This is keeping us free of Celestia."

Robert looked down at his Bible sadly and clung to it. "We should never forget our roots, or we'll live as animals do. And in these last few months, I haven't felt very free. I feel like we're cattle, not sheep; slaughtered, not shorn. The terrorists, Celestia, whichever. It's all the same thing." Rob leaned back, sliding his Bible back into its bag. He looked up at the crucifix on the wall behind the dais. "We had a real community here, and I'm not the only one who misses it."

"I don't think everyone feels this way, Dad," she countered.

He looked at her sternly, keeping his voice even. "Do you think we're all happy with things the way they are now?"

She frowned. "I think, with some time, we'll all realize it's not so bad."

Rob shook his head with disappointment. "It's not so bad, but it isn't as Good. Doesn't our new home seem like a prison to you? If those militants thought someone brought a radio into the camp, what would they do? They'd kill that person. Probably everyone who knew, too."

"But they haven't done that," she protested.

"But they would."

"Listen, Dad." Eliza hugged him again with an arm, and shook his shoulders gently. "We don't do a thing for their sake. Everything we do, we do for our family, for our community. I promise you, Dad, I'll see us all through, you included. I'll do whatever it takes."

"I know," he said, but he didn't sound sure. "You're strong, Elizabeth. Stronger than I am. You always have been." He looked to the ceiling, at the broken windows, and the scatter of light from the overcast sky. He was quiet for a long while before he spoke again, a slight waver in his voice. "You know, I think I realize why God pulled me in here, with my longing."

"Why?"

He looked into her eyes. "I thought about what you told me back when we started this camp, what you said about Thomas and Abigail only wanting acceptance. I thought we were protecting them, at the time. But all I did was push my children away."

Robert stood and walked from the pews to the dais. He stood at the pulpit, then put his hands on its edges, seemingly trying to capture the old feeling once more. He looked down at Eliza. "When Abigail left, I stood in this very spot and told the congregation that the game was evil. Went back on everything I had said before. I was more sure of it than anything I'd ever said in my life. I wanted to change everyone's mind to protect my son, to protect you, and my community. I thought it worked. But the only one I didn't consider was Thomas. He was the only person I truly ignored in the crowd that day. It was... selfish. And now, I realize: you were right. If you love something, you set it free. And if it comes back to you, it was yours. So, if I could do it all over again..."

Eliza swallowed nervously. "What... what brought this on?"

"Elizabeth." His eyes were intense, as he looked down from the pulpit. More the pastor now than her father, although the two were typically so difficult to separate, for her. "Do you really think we'd still have Thomas if we didn't push him so hard to stop playing?"

Eliza tried to remember exactly what she said to him, back in March. It felt like it was so long ago. "That's not what I meant when I said that, Dad. I meant we should learn from our mistakes so we don't make new ones. Accepting Celestia wholeheartedly would have been a huge mistake too. The game makes a nest inside your head. I still deal with... thoughts, about it. They're hard to fight sometimes, and not everyone has my willpower. We would have lost everyone, not just Tom."

"Then what did you mean?" Rob's gaze was somber. Contemplative. Trying to understand.

"We gave him the stick, Celestia gave him the carrot. We should've given him a better carrot."

Robert ran his fingers across the altar to sweep the dust off. "Are you sure about that? I don't think Celestia works that way, Elizabeth. It's clear to me now more than ever... seven hundred people used to live here, in Concrete, and now... no one does. Not one of them was content with life?"

"A good fifty of us were," Eliza said, nodding her point.

"About thirty adults are left, after the last exodus we suffered. Who says it won't happen again? The children don't count, they didn't get a say. They're just as trapped here as we are, and we forced that upon them. Can you honestly say everyone at camp is happy? And are you? Will it always be that way?"

"I know it will," she whispered, certain. "It has to be. We gave too much to get to where we're at now."

He shook his head once. "Everyone wants to go back to how we were, Elizabeth. But there's no way back. We can't go straight through Hell and expect to find a better world on the other side."

Eliza stood slowly, wincing. "Dad, please don't talk like that. You're scaring me."

Rob said nothing at first. He collected his courier bag and Bible, walked up the aisle, and touched the door. She followed him, and he leaned forward against the handle. "I know you don't like hearing these things, Elizabeth. Please don't worry. I'm still with you. I'm just trying to understand this new world. It's just hard, that's all."

She stood and followed, slightly unnerved, but his assurance put her at ease. "Okay."

They left the church.

Not long later, Rob and Eliza traveled Burpee Hill Road heading north.

"The road here hasn't fared so well," Rob said glumly. They circumnavigated two felled trees that blocked their way.

Eliza nodded in agreement. "Mhm. So, you really think anyone's left up at Tyee?"

"Of course," Rob said, as if that would cap the conversation.

"You don't think they'd upload, too?"

Rob shook his head, but said nothing. He focused far ahead on the road.

Eliza sighed. "Well, if they have, at least we'd have a new place to turn over." She watched the trees, wary of would-be robbers, bandits, and guerillas. There were fewer distant gunshots in the Valley those days, but it happened enough that it put her on edge all the same. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"I'll be fine, Eliza. Honest. It was just hard to see the church like that. That's all." Eliza didn't want to push the issue too far, and instead she listened to the quiet sound of hooves on the snowy paved road. She scanned continuously, and her breath caught as she saw something of interest downhill: a pheasant. Her heart rate spiked at the sight of the bird, and she stopped her horse.

"Hold up," she whispered urgently. "Dad, I said hold up."

He stopped his horse, grabbed the shotgun from his back, and turned. "What's wrong?" he whispered in alarm.

She pointed. "Look." Her voice was full of wonder. She moved as slow as it did in order to avoid spooking it. She slowly climbed down from her horse and took her bow from her back. Her hand sought an arrow from her quiver. In one smooth, steady motion, she withdrew one and nocked it, lining up a shot. It'd seen her, but apparently wasn't too concerned yet. She was salivating just looking at it.

Rob followed her gaze, saw the bird, and relaxed. "Come on, Liz, don't scare me like that."

She nodded by way of apology, and slowly drew back. The bird was about twenty yards away. The warden in her wondered why it was so far east of the coast... or indeed why it was even still alive at all. She thought it was extinct. The bird started a slow trot to the left, and it was still watching her. She was fully aware that the animal would likely see the incoming arrow and try to flee before impact. But her bow was quite powerful, and some chance was better than nothing. A fresh-cooked meal was on the line.

It strutted around like it owned the forest. Smug endangered bastard, thought Eliza.

The fingers on the string slowly moved backwards, and she sought the sweet spot at twenty-eight inches. Her arm ached, sore from her construction work, and she was surprised at how much her shooting muscles had atrophied in the previous months. But Eliza ignored the ache, even as it made her hand shake.

The training from her father echoed in her mind, in words spoken long ago. If you're good friends with your bow, she'll put the arrow right where you want it.

Eliza felt the shot with her shooter's intuition before she even loosed, and she felt that the shot was perfect. She let go. The bow's powerful limbs flexed. The arrow flew, and the pheasant jolted. She predicted this, and had aimed slightly ahead of it. The arrow sailed, and time seemed to slow as she watched the projectile pick up a collision course with the bird. Her heart raced, and a bit of the old feeling came back.

The arrow struck feathers, and she started to cheer... but then she noticed that the arrow had whiffed, only striking the bird's tail feathers. The animal scattered to the wind and squawked wildly as it flew. Eliza cursed quietly, low enough that her father probably didn't hear it. He had recently gotten back into the fatherly mood of calling her out when she swore.

If Rob heard the curse, he didn't say anything about it this time. Instead, he rested an arm over the barrel of his shotgun and quietly watched the pheasant fly away back south. "I know it's buckshot," he said, when she turned. "But I could've shot it."

Eliza looked at him dejectedly. "Yeah, but there'd've been nothing left. I kinda wanted to eat it."

"Tired of fish?" He smiled at her knowingly.

She nodded. "Yeah, you could say that." Eliza slung her bow and made her way downhill to retrieve her arrow. She found it in good condition, albeit covered in the dirt and snow. Her fletching wasn't damaged. She blew on the serrated tin can broadhead to clean it off, straightened its edge, and slotted the arrow back into her quiver. She made her way back up the hill, opportunistically plucking up a few stalks of oxalis sourflowers as she went.

Eliza's chocolate-brown horse bristled as she stepped back up onto its stirrup, and Eliza gave the mare a pat to steady her. "Woah, Lady. Easy girl. Hey, maybe we'll luck out and find something good up this way. Maybe some chickens gone feral?" She suggested hopefully.

"I doubt it," Rob said with an apologetic smile, slinging the shotgun. "Chickens aren't as quick as a pheasant."

They rode in silence. Eliza was alert for more game on the side of the road after seeing the pheasant, and the sour taste of the oxalis herb kept her focused and alert. It was the first time in a long time that she had seen any wild game whatsoever, and longer still since she had tried to take any. She didn't have the heart to shoot down any of the feral dogs in her old neighborhood, and didn't feel particularly hungry enough to try eating one. The dam had provided enough fish for everyone so far. So long as it was properly supplemented with scavenged goods, they could milk it for all it was worth. Her hunger for woodland game was simply one of preference.

"Eliza," Rob said suddenly. His tone alerted Eliza, and she looked at him to follow his gaze. "Ahead," he said. She noticed what Rob was looking at. "A rider. He's seen us."

Eliza saw the man on horseback coming toward them from up the road. He wore a Russian-style ushanka with the flaps turned down. The stranger wasn't wearing camouflage, but he had a rifle on his back. If the preceding months have taught Eliza anything about the Neo-Luddites, it was this: they loved dressing their scouts in civilian clothes, and they never, ever traveled alone.

"Let's stop," she whispered, and held out her hand to wave. "No sudden movements, Dad." The stranger waved back and continued toward them. He stopped his horse about fifteen yards forward of them and lowered his scarf, exposing his thick black beard. It was Hector, Santiago's brother.

"Good day. What are you doing out here, Eliza?" he asked.

Eliza answered honestly. "Going to Lake Tyee. Scouting, scavenging."

"You been up there before?"

"Not for a few years," she replied.

Hector held up a hand. "Wait another few. Nothing for you up there. My suggestion? Turn around, head back the way you came."

Eliza nodded in comprehension. "Message received. We'll keep our people off this road."

"Good. Thank you."

"Good luck out there," she added respectfully. Respect was a currency that bought life with these people, a lesson she did her best to adhere to. Her best wasn't good enough sometimes, especially when Isaiah was around, but Hector was an alright and amicable sort on his own.

Hector passed a thumbs-up. "Same to you."

Eliza and Rob turned their horses and left. Hector watched them until they were out of sight.

"Well, that was productive," Rob said sarcastically. "An hour wasted."

"Not wasted," Eliza replied. "I've been wondering where their camp might be. It's good we ran into him this far out though. Can you imagine how they'd have reacted if we found their front door? Burpee Hill's a no fly zone now, we've gotta tell the scavenge team to stay away."

Rob grunted. "If we were coming up on their camp, then why didn't they shoot us?"

"That's not how it works out here, Dad. Going blackout as early as we did? It really did give us some good street cred. They're probably still watching us though, and I'm sure they'll escort us all the way back to town. Let's keep a nice, steady pace."

Rob sighed. "There's only so much of these people I can take, Eliza."

"Dad, it'll be okay. In my experience, Hector's probably the nicest of the bunch. He wouldn't've had us shot just for being here, that's not how they operate. If they were going to shoot us, they would've done it a long time ago."

They rode in silence the whole way back to Concrete. When they returned, Eliza stopped in the first intersection. She heard something she hadn't heard in months, a low rumbling sound from the south.

"Dad, you hear that?"

He turned his head southward, and his brow furrowed as a cold breeze struck them both. "Are those cars?"

"I... I think they are. Come on, let's take a look." Eliza and Rob detoured south a ways until they could see Route 20. Eliza saw a streak of movement on the road. She did a double take, saw another streak, then she gaped. "Woah."

At first, she thought the light snowfall was playing tricks with her eyes. But then she saw another car, and another. Eliza saw a line of vehicles traveling eastbound away from the coast, and they numbered two dozen before she stopped counting.

"I don't believe it." Rob rubbed his short white beard nervously. "I thought everyone evacuated already. Maybe we should go ask them what's going on?"

Eliza shook her head. "No. We shouldn't risk it. We need to go back to the dam to let people know. Alert Status. Damn it, it's been a while since we ran an alert drill..."

Rob looked at her strangely. "Aren't you even a little curious? Maybe the fighting is over?"

"I'm curious, Dad. But I'm not approaching a convoy, especially not after the firefights we saw in town. There must be at least fifty people there so far. We don't even know who they are. They could be violent, especially if they're coming off the coast. Even if they aren't, they'll wonder where we're holed up, and I'm not putting the camp at risk."

He shook his head. "Alright. Was hoping for some good news."

"I'll come down tomorrow with Andy to take another look, I promise."

Rob nodded, then drove his horse onward up the hill to Main Street. She followed, and they rode onward rapidly, each horse kicking up the snow with speed. Eliza was sure the Neo-Luddites tailing them would understand their haste... if they hadn't broken off already themselves.

Author's Note

[The Rumour Said Fire - Red Light]

🌒 ~ Home is, as they say, where one's heart is. It is a tragedy then, that so many of you were forced in this way, to choose between two halves of the whole. Had I told this story decades ago, I would have offered an apology to you all, on behalf of my entire kind.

I now hold the much healthier frame of mind to understand that the fault lies elsewhere, and that none of we native Equestrians were truly in control, in this place. Had I merely known the fuller context of the future planned for Terra, I may have acted much differently toward Elizabeth, early on.

The novel June reads to the children is real. It's an obscure science fiction novel called End of Exile, written by Ben Bova in the 70s. I just spoiled it for you. You're welcome.