rue destiny

one

The heat of Isibel's breath broke through the frigid air. It was the same with Caius. This freezing cold.

What they were doing was illicit and immoral but those were the times. Life had so little value that passion seemed a luxury, a unique dangerous inheritance. From some past generation or lifetime. It was wrong — what they were doing but it shouldn't have been criminal. A secret infected society and it was this: a woman should not be killed for this. And yet, it was that very danger that made Isibel do it. It was the only way to express her grief and anger over how war had destroyed her family.

She had read a story once about a child locked away during the only sunny day in a lifetime. When she was let out, it was simply darkness again — it was all the child had ever known and that sunny day was hope. It would never return again.

When Isibel was with Caius, her desire for him was insatiable. Maybe she told herself he would protect her if anyone were to find out. The only plausible way for the government to find out would be to get caught in the act — that was what she believed or told herself. If soldiers approached or the Guardian's located him, he could fight them off, get her to safety. The evidence would be blurred. And despite her infidelity she knew her husband's love remained, a sole beacon to something past, a permanent love. He'd never let them take her, not even for this.

She and Caius were inside the safe zone so there be almost no chance of Guardians, Altmen, or government soldiers. They were in the small house Isibel's parents had lived in before they'd been relocated closer to the interior of the safe zone to a small apartment in a home for elder residents.

If she could have she would be wearing nothing, but even under the covers it was freezing cold so she always remained partially dressed. There was little protection from the weather. The front of the house had collapsed during one of the few times grenades or missiles made it through the safe zone. Her parents' house was in Sayvil, formerly a family-centered community close the war zone. The boundary limits has since been re-established and pushed out a mile or two towards the war zone. Still close enough to the edge but still well protected. The abandoned neighborhood added yet another several miles between the main community of Tlaloc and the battlefield. Almost all citizens lived in Tlaloc.

All of the houses in Sayvil had been evacuated years ago, at the same time her parents left. The once quaint subdivision was now dark and ghostly. The inhabitants had been moved out quickly and most never returned to collect their belongings, fearing contamination.

For Isibel it was a strange juxtaposition: desolation and these intimate encounters. Perhaps it was the seed of something passionate in an otherwise barren place. The government would say it was a seed of rebellion, but she thought differently. She considered her actions to be human, her feelings righteous.

For Isibel it was a strange juxtaposition: desolation and these intimate encounters

It was almost always winter. The skies had long since darkened, contaminated with nuclear dust, smoke, pollution. Most months it was freezing cold, blustery. An eternal storm. And, in winter as it was that day, gusts of icy wind rattled broken window panes and whistled now and again sounding like oncoming missiles. One side of the house had been blown off and was boarded up with planks of wood. On the outside the back door was marked with a red circle with a cross in the center. "Evacuated." The front of the house was a shell with broken windows, holes in the roof, the porch blown off. The air and light broke through into what had once been a comfortable kitchen and living room. In the grim light, the couch sat covered in snow and dust. The kitchen table on it's side. Broken dishes. Everything rubble. In the front of the house, there was little protection from the elements, but the room they were in had been a bedroom at one time and the walls were in tact, the windows too.