THE MOTHER SIEGE: A DYSTOPIAN THRILLER

Chapter 14: THE MOTHER SIEGE: A DYSTOPIAN THRILLER

Copyright (c) 2013 Phyllis Zimbler Miller

All rights reserved.

              Just as Natalie tossed the newborn baby into a deep well Natalie thrashed awake. 

            She lay panting for several moments, forcing herself to focus on a mental picture of a blue water lake surrounded by trees whose leaves swayed in the breeze.

            Then she checked the time on her personal comm unit and turned off the alarm.  She pressed the news report option on her unit and the holograph sprang up above her wrist.  She flipped through the government–controlled news; the only item concerning the group home edict reminded parents of the rewards for early enrollment.

            Natalie dragged herself into her bathroom.  Watching herself in the mirror, she chugged water from a bottle lifted from its magnetic wall holder.    

            The nightmares had started immediately after the group home edict.  As Natalie had been performing new birth duties as a pediatrician for several years, she was somewhat surprised that what appeared to be PTSD symptoms would begin now.

            Still, perhaps it was not so unusual that the trauma of signing off on new birth screening results should eventually haunt her.

            While she had never had to “eliminate” a newborn herself, she knew – the few times she had signed birth screening results that indicated “elimination” – a newborn would cease to exist.  She had always been relieved that a mental health worker had the job of informing the mother.

            And most of the time Natalie signed off on very good new birth screening results and was able to welcome the new baby as a patient of Natalie’s medical practice.

            In the analytical part of her mind Natalie understood why the symptoms should have started now.  But in the emotional part Natalie wondered whether this was a warning that her mission to save her children could instead cause their deaths.

            Her personal comm unit chirped.  When she pressed “accept” her mother appeared.  She was in her room at the way station to which she had moved when Natalie’s father died of an early heart attack.

            “Natalie, I need to see you as soon as possible.  I’ve gotten a letter to go on a retreat and I can choose which dates I want to attend.”

            Natalie tried to suppress the gasp that escaped from her as if she had been sucker punched in the stomach.  Something Harold had told her concerning people with incurable infectious diseases made Natalie suspect what this could mean. 

            Natalie considered her meeting that afternoon with the other mothers.  She could pick up her children, briefly visit her mother, and still make the meeting.  “I’ll come see you at lunch time,” Natalie said.

                                                             ***

            Harold looked up as Natalie entered his office before the first patients arrived.   He could tell by the absence of a smile that something was off.

            She gestured for him to remove his Twitterverse earpiece and his comm unit, which she had apparently already done, and to follow her.

            He had to resist taking her hand as they walked down a path leading from the office building.  When they were some distance away, she slipped her arm around him as if they were lovers and led him off the path.

            Although he knew she was posing to throw off any visual scanning units, he couldn’t quite tamp down the spark of electricity from her touch.

            “What’s happened?” he whispered in her ear.

            “Do you remember you once indicated to me that infectious disease patients who were costing the government too much in healthcare costs got invitations to go on a retreat – from which they never return?”

            Harold bent down and nodded, his lips inches from her lips. 

            “Is it possible the same happens with other people whose healthcare costs may be climbing?”

            Harold swung her around so that he could look in her eyes.  “Who has gotten a retreat invite?”

            “My mother.”

            For a moment Harold mentally scanned what data he had been able to acquire over time.  “Is she in an elderly way station?” he said.     

            She nodded.

            “Then it is very possible.”

            Harold felt Natalie’s body sag against his.  He caught her in his arms and whispered, “Be careful of the probable surveillance.”

            She lifted her head to his.  “I have to save her too.”

            “What kind of healthcare costs are being expended on her?”

            “A variety of things – she reached 65 and fell apart as she says – but nothing life threatening.  No transplant surgery, not even bypass surgery.”

            “In my brother William’s world even several small things can add up to uneconomic viability.”

            Harold squeezed Natalie closer.  What could be done?  Whatever Natalie’s plan to save their children, having an older person with them would surely complicate the odds of a successful escape.

            Natalie looked up again.  “She has a choice of which date to go on the supposed retreat.  I will have her choose a date after the mandatory group home deadline.  If asked, she can explain she wants to be able to say good-bye to her grandchildren.”

            “Then what?” Harold said.

            “I’ll have to figure this addition to my plans.”

            Harold took hold of her shoulders and moved her head back so that he could look into her eyes.  “Do those plans include me?”

            She didn’t answer at once.  Her eyes dropped and then she raised them back to his.

            “If you are willing to risk your own life.”

            He couldn’t stop himself.  He leaned down and agreed with a kiss.

                                                               ***

            “Your brother isn’t answering his personal comm unit,” Gregor told William.

            “Why not?” William said.  “Even if he is seeing a patient, my incoming number should compel him to respond.” 

            Gregor hesitated.  “Is it really necessary to tell him you mother has gone on an elderly retreat?”

            William paced in front of his computer screen wall, moving his eyes from one screen to another while he considered this question. 

              “Yes, it is.  He needs to know there is no longer anyone who might intercede with me on his behalf.”

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If you enjoy reading about the historical past as well as the imaginative future, see my cold war memoir TALES OF AN AMERICAN OCCUPYING GERMANY here on Wattpad at http://budurl.com/TAonWattpad