2050 by Dave Borland - HTML preview

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chapter twenty-three

As they sat outside in two wood slatted rockers drinking a very strong black coffee, Kurt and Elizabeth Morgan talked about what had happened in their country. She gave him the history of her family that Kurt found fascinating. The Morgan’s were one of the original pioneer families in the Laurel Mountains. Her name, Elizabeth Morgan, had been given to the oldest female since the 1700’s when the original family resided in Virginia. Her direct family had lived on this land near the Youghigheny River since the early 1800’s as part of land granted to Josiah Morgan by King George of England. Morgan explored the area west of the Alleghenies with Col. George Washington. Josiah Morgan had been with Col. Washington on his excursions against the French and was with him when he attempted to negotiate the withdrawal of the French garrison in the name of King. Because of his work he was granted thousands of acres including this parcel. It wasn’t until the early 1800’s that Elizabeth’s Morgan’s descendants settled at the confluence of Morgan’s Run and the Youghiogheny River. She was now, two hundred and fifty years later, the last Morgan living on the land. Her younger brother and two sisters had immigrated to Wales, the land of the original Morgan’s.

Elizabeth had refused to leave. She’d been here by herself for three years. She’d planted each spring, gardened all summer, and harvested in the fall, just as her family had done. She would put up most of her vegetables for the winter and would shop periodically in the small town of Dunbar, not telling anyone that she was living alone. Occasionally she had visited the Jones family, her closest neighbors, to see how they were. They were elderly and close to her parents when they were alive. During this past winter they weren’t well and just within the last two months they both had died. Mr. Jones first, then Mattie Jones, his wife, died two months later. She felt loneliness had finally done them in. Their dying left nobody within five miles.

Kurt glanced down to his watch. It was past noon and he realized he had missed the first day call of Dr.

Alexander. When he had a chance he would check to see if a message was left for him. A few minutes later, Elizabeth told Kurt she had to go the freezer in the basement. He told her he was going to walk towards the river to get his bearings on the walkway. Kurt walked a path to the banks of the Youghigheny. Standing beside a pine next to the wall that protected the path, he looked slowly in both directions, just in case she was watching him. The river was empty, just a rapid current at this point. He went around the pine and punched in Dr.

Alexander’s code. In five seconds he was connected. He read the message. “CONTACT MADE. WILL MEET

YOU NOON, FALLINGWATER AT ONE OF THE NEXT 3 DAYS BEGINNING DAY AFTER DATE OF

THIS TRANSMISSION -CONTACT WILL LEAVE AFTER 3RD DAY. CONTACT: CODE NAME

COBRA. GOOD LUCK, DA. Kurt checked the screen. That meant the first contact day was tomorrow for the

contact to be made, so he was in good shape. He felt a sense of relief for the first time in days. He had a chance, a good chance. The transmission took fifteen seconds, well under the surveillance time, so he headed back to the farmhouse. His mind raced and he knew he might make tomorrow’s contact if he things broke perfectly, but he certainly would be there for the second day of the time frame. He climbed on to the back porch and went into the kitchen where Elizabeth was dropping several containers on the island chopping block.

“You said you were hungry, Sloan. Do you have time for a farm meal?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m starved. If you don’t mind, I would love a farm meal.”

“Well, it will be a change to have company even if they’re a security risk,” she laughed.

“What can I do to help?” Kurt asked.

“Take that container to the well outside and fill it with more water for more coffee, please.

In a few minutes, the water kettle began to whistle and she took it off of the stove. She poured the steaming water from the container into a glass vessel with a paper filter. The water dripped through the coffee beans and a large batch of dark coffee was ready.

“You know I haven’t talked with a soul for so long, how about we go in the living room and you can tell me about Pittsburgh.”

They went to the rustic living room with dark, cracked leather chairs that surrounded a matching leather sofa.

Elizabeth sat in one chair and Kurt in the other. For the next hour it was like old classmates at a reunion. Once he asked her about communications because she mentioned that her father had established a satellite cellular system about fifteen years ago. He asked her if it was still functioning, and she answered that it had given out during the winter. All she had was a wall system powered by her solar unit and occasionally she watched World Net. She received mail from her brother in England. Most of her current knowledge came through the World Net based in Paris. As for the house itself, she explained to Kurt that her father had it made completely self-powered when he had installed a solar receptor in the late twenties. It still functioned perfectly.

Later, after another mug of the strong coffee, she took Kurt on a tour of the renovated brick farmhouse which he commented to her was a remarkable structure. After the tour, they talked more, stopping only for a snack of dark bread and apple butter. Kurt had trouble stopping himself from eating all of the fresh, hearty apple butter and black German style bread. The fresh made apple butter and bread reminded him of his home. He looked out into the sloping yard to the river far off in the distance. It was already late in the afternoon as they sat in the kitchen.

“I only eat twice a day, so the bread and apple butter will have to do you ‘til later, if you’re still here and still hungry,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

“That was delicious, as you could tell. I think that’s all I could have handled anyway. As far as leaving, I do have to go, but I have to ask you something.”

“That’s okay, fire away. By the way, there’s a really nasty storm coming in over the river. The one yesterday was just rain, but there’s to be a sharp drop in temperature along with thunder and lightening, possible tornadoes. Might not be to cozy out there on the trail.” She pulled back a white curtain from the window. Look out there,” she said to Kurt as if the storm had suddenly appeared. The whole sky was cut right in half as a dark black bank of clouds was meeting the clear, bright blue overhead. The trees along the river could be seen bending in an obvious pickup of a breeze.

“Well, now. Security can’t scan to well in that kind of weather, although their heat scans could probably pick me up. I may have to delay a bit. Could I stay until the storm passes?” he said turning back to her. “The barn would be fine,” he added quickly.

“Well, you shared my precious apple butter. I guess you can stay a while. If the winds get to bad, I might go to the barn, myself. It’s older than the main house and built like a bomb shelter. Good choice. But I’d like to watch this one come in. Let’s go into the side porch. We can watch the storm from there unless it gets to wild.”

She walked to sliding glass doors that led out into the side porch. He looked passed her into the glass enclosed room that must have been an outside porch at one time. He could see all types of hanging plants, cacti, ferns, and assorted miniature trees filling the glass-enclosed room. Over her shoulders as she walked through the porch doors, Kurt could see blackness rapidly filling the sky through the wall-to-wall windows. He also took notice of the woman as she stepped into the porch area.

Even though she was a large woman, he noticed when she walked, she flowed. She had taken off her ball cap and the luster of her light brown hair glowed. It was an electric moment. One he hadn’t felt for a while. He locked onto her body as she pushed through the ferns onto the porch. He’d been running from Security one moment, and now he was following this fascinating woman. Life is one strange pursuit, no question, and another twist had just been added.

“Sloan. Are you coming? The storm’s moving fast.” He walked into the porch and as he did, he could see the rain slanting over the river. The remaining clouds of the beautiful day were racing to get away from the pending storm.

“This is going to go on for a while. I’ll put on some water. Would you drink some tea or more coffee?”

“Some tea would be fine, if it’s without caffeine, I’m wired.”

“It is. Some kind of herbal mint, I believe.”

“You have a good gas supply, I see,” Kurt said.

“Our family has had a free supply of gas for over a hundred years. No matter what’s going on with the Central Power in Pittsburgh, I still get gas. I’ll be back in a second. You can tell me of your plans. Where you are going? What’s going on in Pittsburgh? I’ll be back.”

Kurt turned and watched her heading back into the house and going into the kitchen. His mind refocused on his task at hand as he admired the strong stride of his hostess. Based on the message from Dr. Alexander, he should make the connection at Fallingwater, possibly even tomorrow. If the storm got worse, he might have to stay over and leave at daybreak. Either way, he should be able to get to Fallingwater some time tomorrow. Another thought he had was that maybe Elizabeth knew a short cut route to Fallingwater. Maybe she knew a way over the hills or if there was another crossing over the river before Ohiopyle.

Elizabeth walked back into the porch as the rain pelted off the glass windows holding a pot of steaming water on a tray with two cups.

“Here you go, Sloan.”

“Please Kurt, if you would.”

“Kurt, this is perfect for this kind of weather. Wow, what a great rain. You’d be soaked already if you were walking that trail.”

“No doubt about that. Now, what I wanted to ask you when this storm rudely interrupted was if you knew a short cut to Fallingwater. I saw a bridge back at Indian Creek, but that’s where Security was hanging out. Just wonder if there was another bridge that’s not on the maps? If so it would save me quite a bit of time getting to Fallingwater,” Kurt finished.

She looked at him as the rain continued to beat against the glass windows. Elizabeth sipped her tea, steam climbing up past her lovely, chiseled face as she looked at him. “Fallingwater! A man is leaving his land and Security is apparently looking for him, yet he has to take a detour to see a house in the mountains. Granted it’s a classic house in the mountains, but you are a very interesting bird, Mr. Sloan.”

“Miss Morgan, if I may be so bold. You, all by yourself in the middle of nowhere in a land that is going through traumatic upheaval, are, may I use your phrase, also an interesting bird. Birds of a feather, possibly,” he said jokingly.

“Touché’,” she quickly replied. “To answer your earlier question, there may be a way to Fallingwater without going all the way to Ohiopyle. The key will be if the old bridge down the river that was added about twenty years ago is still up. I really don’t know. I would have suggested the one back up at Indian Creek, but maybe the other one is still up. I’ll give you directions and you’ll know when you get there. From there on the other side, it’s a climb, but passable. At least it was.”

“So you’ve taken it?”

“Many times! As I said, Fallingwater always fascinated me as well. To be where it is and the classic grandeur of it in the middle of my loving mountains was and is a sense of pride. Mr. Wright, a fellow Welshman, was no doubt a genius. How he could blend a cement and glass structure in with the natural wood and vegetation along Bear Run is a testament to the creativity of the human race.”

“That’s sort of the way I’ve always felt. My dad used to take me there when I was a youngster. Since I was hiking the trail I wanted to see it once again. So here I am,” he finished, looking and then listening to the outside weather. “It sounds like it is quieting down outside.”

“It is slowing down a bit, but it’s still windy and dark. You may not be going anywhere in this stuff if this keeps up. You want more tea?”

“Actually, I would. Our conversation has been great. I really haven’t had anyone my own age or background to talk with in weeks - months, come to think of it. My best friend is a great guy my age but comes from a completely different background. Not an Anglo from Western PA, for sure. My associates at work are from all over the place, the world actually, and my mentor, a great man is close to eighty. But for sharing thoughts with someone of my age and, what can I say, cultural heritage, this short time with you has been comforting if that is the right word.”

She was still standing with her back to him. She turned and said, “Funny you said that. As I said earlier, since my parents died over three years ago, I really haven’t had any socialization. My personality is basically a loner type. Even with my college degree and work in Brazil, I have really enjoyed the peace of this place. Surviving on the farm has been a full time occupation, but I knew all along, that I would have to get off my butt and do something with my life and I knew it wouldn’t be here.”

“Do you have any idea of what you would like to do? I mean you have a great education and some international work experience.”

“I do have a great education and I loved my work in Brazil, but I can’t seem to focus on one area. But I’m a libra, which means, I weigh everything, usually too much. So the question for me is what the hell am I going to do with the rest of my life and where am I going to do it? I know I can’t stay here in these beautiful boondocks, it’s too comforting here. My feeling now is that I would like to teach, somewhere. But where that is, I haven’t a clue,” she said sadly as she turned to look at Kurt. She recovered. “Let’s say we have some dinner. I think, Sloan, you’re going to have to wait until morning. It’s dark and still raining. You’ll lose your ass out there. I’ll start something and we can have it a bit later. I think it’s time for some wine from our cellar. Are you a wine drinker?”

“I am a drinker, period. Based on my heritage, a good dark beer; a good dry wine; or the mother lode, a single malt, is part of the package. So your wine sounds perfect, especially with the nastiness outside.”

“I’ve got some of that mother lode, as you say, but for now let me show you the wine cellar,” Elizabeth said as she walked past him into the hallway.