Just a Dream

         Holding on tightly, heart racing, my fingers moved quickly as I stuffed the animals in the thin, red bag and clasped it tightly, "Hang on guys, because we're jumping at the next redlight," I whispered. Glancing up, I could see we were approaching a large intersection, and now was my chance. The old blue hatchback began to slow and I readied myself for the impact of asphalt, but then the light turned green. The car lurched forward and it was now or never. I held my breath and attempted to tuck myself together as though rolling across a highway would somehow be better. It really wasn't.
         There was a run down but still open convenience store to the far left of the car we had just escaped so I made a dash for it. I knew I would see him again, and I knew in my heart that somehow he wasn't evil. He wasn't bad. He didn't betray us because he wanted to. It was something else; there had to be more at play here. There simply had to. Jonathan was one of us, one of the family. And tonight at dinner he would know I stole back the test subjects and I would know he attempted to kidnap them, but we wouldn't say a thing, because nobody else was aware. And nobody else needed to know.
         Returning the small, furry creatures to their habitat was simple enough. I rebooted the security system and because Jack wasn't very astute, he would never know anything was tampered with. The place was dark and disorganized. Oddly damp for being located in such an airid place. I hated the lab. I hated this place. Hell, I hated this life. Everything sucked, everything was difficult and everyone was dangerous. Couldn't trust a soul. Post apocolyptic cities and stories were romanticized for generations in story books and in movies. But the harsh reality is that it was a filthy, disease ridden fight for survival every moment, and sometimes you wondered if dying was simply the better outcome afterall.
         The dinner table was an awkward assortment of different chairs and objects that could pose as chairs all seated around a lopsided, oval table. Well, we called it a table but it was more like a chunk of wood atop some kind of metal base. Jonathan was already seated, leaning back casual and quiet, his blue eyes piercing thoughtlessly through his black rimmed glasses. He ignored my presence, of course. I loved his dirty face. It was beautiful in an almost boyish way. Masculine enough, and yet you knew that as an adolescent he had to have been a nerd. His light blonde hair was dishovled and touchable in appearance. He was in need of a shave by a couple of days, but I didn't mind the rugged look on him.
         I sat at the head of the table to a bowl full of cooked noodles and other Asian-descent cuisine. The neighbors must have cooked for us again, thank God. I couldn't take another day of what Becky called food. Six of the 10 of the family were present; I knew the others would arrive soon. Some common, light conversation was forming, and Jack was making Becky laugh. Quite abruptly and without having touched any food, Jonathan pushed back from the table, his lean frame stood tall. "I have to go. Good night everybody."
         Without much thought they shrugged him off for the night, but I wasn't satisfied, "I'll walk you out," I said almost nervously. There were some things I just had to know.
         He ignored me as we stepped down the rickety front porch of the half destroyed house were were in. I gently clasped his right arm and searched for words, but he spoke first, "These are hard days," he said softly. Suddenly overcome with emotion, I burst into tears. A surprised Jonathan turned to me, looking down at my tear soaked face oddly.
         I grasped for words, "I can't take this," I sobbed, the tears cleaning my dirty, sun tanned face, "I just love you so much...." I couldn't say more. I burried my face in his shoulder and slowly his arms embraced me. Kissing the top of my head and then pulling away he began to form a question, thought better of it, and instead kissed me. Passionately he kissed me for what seemed like years. I opened my eyes o a red, deadening sky and burning, dissintigrating trees in the background. Billows of smoke poisoned the air and I wondered how I had found something so wonderful in the midst of such despair.
         Taking my hand, he lead me to the place where he slept. It was the one intact room in an old abandoned building. The lucky dog had found a bed; a real bed. Nobody had mattresses anymore. Where he got it, I'll never know. His ability to find things astounded me sometimes. Softly he placed me down, one hand on my head, the other on the small of my back. That was the first night we made love, and I knew I would be with him forever.


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My dream continues sometime later in the story.



         Pushing all emotions aside, I continued to hold the cold grimmace on my face. If they found out, we were both dead. "Shoot him!" Herold, the leader of Black demanded of me. He wanted me to prove my loyalty to them. He had been suspiscious of me since the day I joined their evil ranks, and he was right to be suspiscious. I was a double agent, and I was going to bring them down.
         Steadily I held the gun to my husbands head. Jonathan didn't dare look up at me. He knew I wouldn't be able to handle that. Momentarily I considered my options. Being a fairly excellent shot I calculated that I could bring several of them down before dying myself. That would put a damper on things for Black, but it wouldn't stop their evil reign and it would kill both me and my lover. Then a thought occured to me, "Why kill him now? Surely he has information we can get out of him."
         "Why do you question me?" Herold shouted angrily, "You know as well as I do that he's trained to never talk. Shoot him."
         I raised my gun, keeping my hand as steady as possible, seeing no other alternative. I whispered a prayer to myself and then tightened on the trigger. "I'LL TALK! Please don't kill me.....I'll talk. I'll talk," Jonathan cried. He was sobbing and mumbling and one of the big men holding his arms back punched him on the side of the head, "Shut up!"
         I lowered my weapon and looked at Herold, "Well?"
         "Put him in a holding cell." Herold demanded. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Jonathan would live, for now. He had bought me some time to plan an escape for us both. I didn't want to blow my cover and the mission, but he was everything to me, and I couldn't bear it if I lost him.
         Herold wanted me to do the interrogating. All eyes were on me, so it had to be real. With an apologetic look on my face I punched my husband as hard as I could across the face the moment I walked thorugh the door. Blood streamed from his mouth and he smiled, "Is that all you got?"
         I was thankful the only thing Herold couldn't see was my expression, because it would have given me away at that moment. "That's just a sample of what's to come if your information doesn't prove true," I smirked, leaning in to his face. His hand were chained to the table, his feet to the chair. But he could still rise, and he did. Taking me by surprise he pushed his face into mine and kissed me hard, pushing something into my mouth. I wanted to relish his kiss, but I couldn't. I slapped him away and in his weakened state, he fell right over. I wiped my mouth clean of his wet kiss and the object. It was a flash drive. Praise my husband. He never ceases to astonish me. I had to get this information back to the family, but how?
         Jonathan gave me the location of an old weapons storage. I knew the place well. It was a huge hole in the ground where the family had thrown every broken or defective piece of machinery or weapon. It was almost useless; perhaps some parts could be salvaged. He made it sound like the family had their main weapons storage there. The trip would take several days, and I knew that once we got there and Herold saw that Jonathan was full of shit, he was dead. And Herold would have me do it, of that I was still certain. Jonathan had three days to escape. I prayed he had a plan.