Author: Jean-Philippe Martin

The traveler came to our house the day before harvest, detective. I did not notice anything amiss. He said the had nothing but was willing to work, so we housed him and showed him the next day how to pack, haul, and stack the boxes of fruit. He went along fine with the other workers.

How could I know he was undead? He didn’t ask for any money, just food and lodging. Of course I understand the danger, officer, I know that people outside the system cannot be held accountable and I’ve read the stories of murder and pillage. We were lucky, he left in the morning. East, away from the city.

The officer stood to leave, and I presented my wrist so they could give me the 20 credits for my time. “How is your wife? I see she is due for her annual medical, don’t forget.” I nodded and helped them out.

After the door closed shut and the footsteps faded in the distance, I slid the pantry all the way open. “I told them you were headed east. Take this bag, it has food for the journey.”

The traveler, still holding his child’s hand, took the bag warily. “I cannot pay you.” “I know. I also know that just refusing the chip shouldn’t make you an outlaw. Don’t fret! The information was valuable enough.”

I led them to the back door, and watched through the window as they hiked down the trail. My hand was shaking as I pulled the curtain shut. Then I got a strawberry from the fridge, cream and berries. I washed the fruits three times, smushed the strawberry on a plate into a homogeneous mush then added the cream and berries. I took the plate to the bedroom.

“There you go, love. They are all gone now.” She smiled as she grabbed the spoon. The bed creaked. “Two weeks for the harvest. Midwife will come then. Now we know where to go. Are you sure?”

She gave a sharp nod, her fierce eyes looking straight into my soul. I would follow her anywhere and we both knew it.