Seven SevenSampson ignored the glaring sun as he worked in his field. With fluid movements, he raised his hoe and used it to hack the crust of the earth. Though most did not plant their fields at this time of year, Sampson always did. He put the roots of his plants deep within the ground and covered them with the moss that grew by the river.
Shuffling footsteps alerted him to a stranger’s presence. Resting his hoe, Sampson looked up. A girl of about 17 years old stood before him. She wavered on her feet, barely able to stand. Sampson noted the blood-soaked bandage around her leg.
From her appearance, he judged that she had been wandering in the wilds for quite some time. Her tangled hair was caked with sand and mud. He approached her slowly, not wanting to frighten her.
“Kill me,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Kill me now.”
The girl collapsed to the ground. Dropping his hoe, Sampson ran to her. “Minny!” he called.
A woman with dark skin and a purple apron tied around her waist stepped outside. “What is it?”
“Come here! Quick!”
Minny ran to her husband, the urgency in his voice worrying her. Her short, cropped hair bounced as she hurried over to him.
“My Lord,” she gasped when she saw the unconscious teenager. “Get her in the house now.”
Sampson lifted the girl into his arms and carried her to his home. Minny pointed to their bed before rushing out. She returned moments later with water and some cloth.
“What can I do?” asked Sampson.
“Get my stuff for sunburns and then stay out of the way,” said Minny.
Sampson bowed to his wife. He rummaged through her box of medicine, finding the salve she used for burnt skin, and handed it to her. “I’ll be just out the door if you need anything.”
“Uh-huh,” said Minny as she tended the stranger.
~ ~ ~
Colonel Fernau strode into the bustling room of computer terminals and clacking keyboards. A wall screen at the far end had satellite images zooming across it. In accordance with President Klens’ orders, the number of drones used to spy on Dystopia’s citizens had increased. The amount of information gathered had increased. All of which required more manpower. But this was not why Colonel Fernau had entered the intelligence room. Only one person concerned him.
He walked up to the first technician he saw. The young officer quivered before his presence, a fact that thrilled Colonel Fernau as he enjoyed instilling fear in others.
“May I help you, sir?” asked the man.
“Yes, you may,” replied Colonel Fernau as he lovingly stroked his stick, something he was never without. “I need you to reposition a satellite for me.”
“I cannot do that without authorization,” said the man.
“I am your authorization,” said Colonel Fernau, growing impatient.
“I’m sorry, sir,” replied the young officer, “but only President Klens or the first councilman can give such authorization.”
Irritated, Colonel Fernau struck the computer console with his stick. “I do not need authority from anyone.”
“According to this, you do,” said the man, hoping Colonel Fernau would not take his frustrations out on him.
“Your phone, now,” said Colonel Fernau.
The young officer shakily handed it to him. Colonel Fernau snatched it. He dialed a number and tapped his foot as he waited for an answer. “Seth Michaels, please.”
A moment passed.
“Mr. Michaels, do you or do you not want me to find Dana Ginary? Then give me the authorization to use the satellites and drones as I choose.”
Colonel Fernau handed the phone to the officer. The poor man listened intently, shaking his head many times. After several minutes, he hung up, turning back to his computer.
“Do I have the authorization now?” asked Colonel Fernau, the sarcasm in his voice very prevalent.
“Yes, sir.”
The young officer tapped away at the keys, bringing up window after window. “Which satellite do you want changed?”
“I want to spy on the wastelands where the known settlements are. Make certain that you pick up every detail.” Colonel Fernau handed a picture of Dana to the man. “If she is spotted, you let me know immediately.”
The young officer instantly entered all of the parameters into the computer. He scanned in Dana’s image. The computer stored it, putting it up on the right side of the screen.
“One other thing,” Colonel Fernau whispered into the man’s ear. “Don’t ever tell me I need authorization again.”
The young officer nodded his head. Sweat formed on his brow as he wished that the colonel had chosen anyone but him. “Yes, sir.”
Colonel Fernau stalked off. He whisked out of the computer room and down the hallway with its bluish lights.