With the sun already well past its peak in the sky, Albert knew he only had a few hours to finish his project and get back into the safehouse before dark. Autumn’s colors inspired him like no other time of the year did. Green in summer and spring and gray in winter could never quite compete with the myriad colors vying for your attention during autumn. Reds and yellows and oranges, crystal clear blue in the sky, green on evergreens singing counterpoint to the deciduous trees; nature was a magnificent symphony of hues and brisk, clear mornings during summer’s wane. His paintbrush caressed his improvised canvas, globbing on thick mounds of paint, building texture and harmony into his tiny window on how he wished things could be again. At moments like this, he could almost imagine that all the carnage and death of the last 15 months had never happened, that the world was safe and the nighttime didn’t mean doom. But those thoughts could wait. Now he needed only focus on capturing the tapestry of tint before him. Color’s absence in the safehouse was sorely felt. He needed to bring it back with him, even if it was just a little bit.
A gust of wind blew his scarf and sent a chill down his back. Moving air was another pleasure he was only allowed on the rare days outside. When the wardens deemed it not too much of a hazard, he would explode out the gate as first light and paint or read or daydream, anything to be outside. With his eyes on the pale sky of morning, he lived in another world.
Behind him the warning siren blew its cacophonous bellow from deep within the belly of the beast. Almost time to go in. Not far from the compound’s entrance, he felt confident he could wait for the second siren before packing up and heading back. He turned his head toward where the entrance of the safehouse lay hidden at the back end of a cave covered by trees and bramble. Someone walking by would never think to look for it there, and that, he supposed, was the point. The remainder of the safe house was buried deep into the ground, impenetrable. Access was only available through the front, at the back of the cave, and that was heavily guarded. Once closed for the night, it stayed closed until the wardens gave the all-clear. Sometimes that was days or weeks, and never, ever before dawn. A few times Albert had been very close to being shut out for the night. He suspected that they would open the door for him if he missed it; he didn’t want to find out, though. He never knew anyone who had actually been shut out at night because they were late, but that didn’t stop stories from spreading amongst those that lived down there. Someone always knew somebody who knew somebody who they had shut outside. Those tales were greeted with resigned sighs and defeated shakes of the head. Everyone knew that it was too dangerous to keep the gates open at night, even if it meant shutting out a loved one. Sad that it had come to this.
The second siren blew. Albert closed his paint pots, wiped his brushes on dried leaves, folded his stand, and gingerly held his canvas so he didn’t smudge his hard day’s work. He climbed up the loose rocks and slippery fallen leaves to the grove of trees that marked the cave’s entrance. One of the dwellers, Enrique, kept guard outside in his ghillie suit holding a machine gun. Crouched in the bramble as he was, he was effectively invisible. Albert nodded at him. Enrique checked a portable computing device hidden in the frills of his camouflage suit. Its light shone pale green on his face.
“You’re the last one, Al.”
“Glad I made it.”
“Let’s go inside.” Enrique made a quick visual scan of the area and then followed Albert into the cave. The first half of the path to the safehouse door was dark, but about half way down the RFID-chip embedded in all the dwellers’ necks signaled the lights which came on with a harsh fluorescent burst and flicker. Enrique placed his hand on the identification plate hidden on the cave wall. A rock wall rolled back revealing a door which opened without a sound. Albert and Enrique stepped through the doorway and Enrique pressed the lock sequence into a command console in the entrance way. With a pneumatic hiss, the glorious beauty of autumn was shut out of Albert’s life for an indefinite period. He would sleep poorly that night.
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