Midnight, Anna Dove [ebook smartphone .TXT] 📗

most cities and towns in the state were, and knew the major highways; but of course these were all now to be avoided. She unfolded the map and stretched it out onto the floor, placing the handgun next to it within easy reach.

Her finger rested on Pentagon City, their current location. A web of roads and highways stretched around them, branching in every direction. To their east was the populated part of Arlington; to their north the formidable Pentagon, which would surely not be wise to approach. They would first have to go southeast, to cross the river into Maryland below Anacostia. She saw a wooded area stretching northwards to the east of Anacostia. There, they would be able to ride.

It would be best if they cut across northeast to the Chesapeake Bay, and then followed it up to Annapolis. The only major road to avoid would be Route 50, which they could cross at night. The other areas were small towns and wooded areas, which would be passable. Once they arrived at the Chesapeake, they could sail directly northwest to the Susquehanna River.

“Haley?”

Elizabeth entered from the hall. She came to her friend and sat down quietly.

“I’m planning,” said Haley, and briefed Elizabeth quickly on her ideas.

“Sure,” agreed Elizabeth. “You know, I used to ride at a horse farm near Waldorf.” She pointed to the map. “It’s on our way, and I know we could find horses to ride there.”

“Is there much chance that we would be caught?”

“No, the barn is a little ways off. I mean, you can see the house from it, but I think it will be feasible.”

         +

Sunrise, little beams of hopeful light pushing through the blinds. Falls in a slanted pattern on the carpet. Birds begin to sing in the eerily quiet complex, audible outside the window. One person on watch, one eating, one sleeping. Noon comes, they rotate, turning like the hands of a clock to their duty. One on watch, one eats, one sleeps. The afternoon, and now the sunlight softens and slants the opposite way. It fades, it morphs with the shadow, as evening comes, and then a new shift--one watches, one eats, one sleeps.

Order is comforting. In the incomprehensible chaos it is reassuring to know that you will be able to eat soon, or you can go to sleep, or you must sit by the door with a gun in your hand. There is order, and structure, that can offer stability so desperately craved. Even if this stability is in a sense perfunctory, it still helps psychologically, the knowledge that you must do something next.

For the following few days, the three took turns watching, eating and sleeping. They moved quietly and spoke in hushed tones. Their door was locked and bolted, and an extra gun, on safety but loaded, was hidden under a pillow nearby. They did not want to take any chances.

The second day passed in the same manner, and the third. The bathrooms had begun to smell as there was no running water, and the three were becoming nervous of increased unrest in the city. The apartment had lost much of its position as a place of solace. They knew that they could not remain much longer.

On the fourth day, the sun set at 7:23 pm, although they did not know the time. As the last of its rays disappeared over the horizon, Haley, Elizabeth and Carlos slipped silently from the apartment and ducked into the woods behind. They were armed, and carried small packs of nutrient-dense food and essential supplies (two pocketknives, some twine, a heavy load of ammunition, and matches). There gnawed a certain tightness, a dull anxiety, in the pits of their stomachs, and they felt as if suddenly they were very exposed, very vulnerable. The trees seemed extraordinarily tall and the sky seemed extraordinarily high as they trod up the hill into the woods.

The cool air refreshed their faces. The heat had faded with the setting of the sun, and they walked with their jackets on, single file with Carlos in the lead and Haley in the rear. Every ten minutes they would stop briefly and listen for sounds of other people, but all they heard were the light twittering of birds, the croaking and sputtering of insects, and the crunch of the branches and leaves under their own feet. They set their direction southeast, towards the Potomac, following south Arlington Ridge road in the wooded area to the left of it. Crossing south Glebe road, they scrambled back into the woods to the side of Mt. Vernon road, and cut due east until they found the Four Mile Run river, where they followed the wooded bank, keeping close to the shadows of the tall oaks. They waded into the river to cross under Route 1 and the George Washington Parkway, and then soon found themselves at the mouth of the river where it meets the Potomac. By this time, all sunlight had faded completely from the sky and the stars had entered the heavens. The river flowed softly as they approached. It was wide but the current was calm.

To their immediate left, or north, lay Reagan International Airport. They could still smell the odor of gas and smoke, and Haley shivered. She was glad that the moon had fallen behind some clouds, and that there was no light in which to see the airport wreckage.

They continued south, now along the wooded bank of the Potomac. In twenty minutes they had come to Washington Sailing Marina.

The masts of the boats swayed gently in the movement of the water, solemnly rocking to and fro. The travelers stopped for a moment and watched as the starlight reflected softly off the glistening white bows. The boats swayed as if in a somber dance, their slim masts reaching to the heavens and their ropes tightening and then falling lax as the current