The brown sedan has been tailing them since Wyoming.
Granted, there's only one highway from Boulder to Sacramento. Most of the routes have been crippled by various natural disasters, assuming it wasn't already destroyed by the war, so Fiona tries to assure herself that the sedan's also heading to the capitol for an unrelated, irrelevant reason. But no matter how much she speeds up or slows down, the brown car keeps pace and never makes any moves to pass.
Abin, who has only recently learned the concept of a car, is oblivious. He's supposed to be feeding her directions but instead, he's zoomed out of Utah and staring at the world map. No doubt noticing the blank spot of ocean over where Asia's supposed to be.
In all of her paranoia, Fiona doesn't realize that she's gripping the steering wheel and her foot is pushing on the pedal just a bit too hard. She's way over the speed limit and her heart drops to her toes when the brown sedan's lights start to flash — the sign of an undercover Compliance Order troop.
"What's wrong?" Abin asks, noticing the rove of lights.
Fiona debates speeding away, but it's not an option at all. Again, there's only one route to Sacramento and it's the only place where they can truly hide from LB. "Just stay calm," she says, more for herself than him.
She pulls over to the edge of the highway and the sedan follows. A cloned troop strides to her window languidly, the mark of a junior trooper with too much delight in his power. She reluctantly passes Abin a low-grade oxygen mask for the air toxicity. Fiona rolls her window down with dread, smiling as innocently as possible through the mask. "I'm sorry about the speeding, Officer. Lost track of the speed limit. I think we might need to take a break from driving."
Thankfully, the officer cracks a smile behind his mechsuit. "You've been driving for a while. What's the final destination?"
"Sacramento."
"And what's the reason for the trip?"
"My husband and I—" Fiona reaches for Abin's hand and laces her fingers through his. "—we're thinking of moving to the city. Wanted to scope it out." Abin's thumb strokes her palm reassuringly but it does little to assuage her nerves. She smiles despite everything. "You've been driving a long time as well. Don't they ever give you a break around here?"
The officer shakes his head with a laugh and for the first time, Fiona feels hope that they can make their way out of this unscathed. That is, until he shrugs and says, "They're being extra strict with ID'ing people with all the recent terrorist activity. So that being said, can I see some ID?"
Fiona's gripping onto Abin's hand for dear life. While she doesn't have a spot on the FBI's Most Wanted like Shailene and Ragnar do, her last name is sure to raise a few flags in the system. Plus, there's the fact that Abin time traveled from 16th century Korea which means the DMV never issued him a state license. "I'm not sure we have those on us." She smiles sheepishly, hoping for a miracle.
"We take digital scans, too," he says, genuinely trying to be helpful.
"Of course," Fiona says. She pulls the tablet from Abin and pulls up her records, pretending to be lost in her immaculately sorted files.
"Any luck, miss?"
"I'm just so bad with technology," Fiona giggles, and the high-pitched noise hurts her own ears. "Just one minute more."
"Alright," the officer says gruffly. He's no longer smiling. "It's just mandatory that we check everyone for ID."
"I totally understand," Fiona says, still swiping through nothing in particular. She racks her brain for a plan, anything at all, but she comes up empty.
"If it's easier, I can take you into the station—"
"No need—" Fiona says a little too quickly and he frowns.
"Officer Carlton," a hologram on his watch beeps. "There's a reported sighting of SF and RB on the outskirts of Utah. We need backup."
Fiona's blood runs cold, but for another reason. SF and RB, Shailene Fischer and Ragnar Blomgberg. So they are onto her. She pretends to keep scrolling through her tablet, misclicking and waiting for the files to load.
"I'm engaged with something here—"
"It's in your best interest to get there as soon as possible."
Fiona watches the inner turmoil on his face from the corner of her eye. Catching Shailene and Ragnar would be the biggest break of his career. He would be famous. But he can clearly tell there's something suspicious going on here.
After a moment, glory clearly wins out. Officer Carlton raps on the window and backs away from their car. "Have your IDs next time, okay?"
"Of course!" Fiona chirps, not moving while she watches him get back into his car and pull away. Even as multiple other cars pass by, Fiona stays unmoving.
"I think we're okay to go," Abin says softly, touching her elbow.
"Let's keep the driving for nighttime," Fiona says, trying not to vomit. Her pulse is still racing even though the sedan is long gone by now. She's been sloppy. "I think that's enough excitement for one day."
Abin looks at her with concern but he doesn't say anything. He pulls the map of Utah back. "It looks like the closest thing we have is the... Tree Hugger Bed and Breakfast."
"Tree hugging it is," Fiona says, pulling over to exit. Thankfully, no one follows.
Fiona can barely keep her eyelids open as the middle-aged woman "introduces" them to her farm. They call me Mother Marianne, she had said, while gesturing to the plants in her impossibly tall vertical farming facility. Amongst the greenery, farmhands paced the endless aisles and watered the plants. Fiona had heard about micro-communities like these before and might even have been impressed on a different day, but the stress from today's drive has her wanting to collapse into warm sheets.
"Here, we've got some strawberries," Marianne says, leading them down a nearly identical dirt path. "They no longer sell those in any grocery stores. We're probably one of the last places in the world where you can even find them." There's a beaming pride to her staggered walk. "Here are the bell peppers...the opium...the asparagus..."
"Opium?" Abin asks, unfamiliar with the term.
Marianne takes in his proper appearance and boyish features. "Not your speed? We grow marijuana, too."
"Thank you so much for the tour," Fiona says, as politely as possible. She wants to remain anonymous, the type of guests you forget within a week. "We really don't want to take up any more of your time, though. We don't mind just going to the room now."
Marianne purses her lips, looking like an overbearing aunt who's not quite done with her visit. But she takes in their rumpled appearances and softens. "At our bed and breakfast, we strongly encourage all guests to share meals together so I'll see you at dinner in an hour anyways. Ralph?"
A farmhand appears out of nowhere in an instant. "Yes?"
"Will you show this lovely couple to their room?"
"My pleasure," Ralph says, laying his rake on the ground gently. He turns to Fiona and Abin with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Follow me."
The cavernous dome of the indoor garden lays at the center of Marianne's sprawling farm estate. But the rest of the hallways are also adorned with greenery, maintained by various gardening techniques that obviously have a lot of expertise behind it. "This is beautiful," Abin says, almost as though he didn't mean to. There is a faraway, nostalgic look in his eyes, and Fiona feels a pang of sadness upon the realization that this is probably the closest thing to nature he's seen his entire time here.
"Yes," Ralph says, voice jovial. "Marianne was a professor of biology at University of Utah prior to the war. She is an absolute expert in the field and we are so lucky to have someone of her genius still around. She's created a family here, and I would choose them over blood any day."
Abin makes a sound of acknowledgement but she can tell that that's not how he anticipated the farmhand to react to his small comment.
How intense. After the war, a lot of people went off the rails socially so it isn't quite so rare to interact with people like this. Still, Fiona wanted to avoid as much contact as possible. "We're feeling quite unwell — would you be able to send Marianne our regards at dinner tonight?"
Ralph looks sharply at her. "What is it that you're sick with? We can have herbal teas sent to your room immediately. Marianne is an expert at brewing the perfect herbs to cure any ailment."
"Just some migraines," Fiona says cordially, trying not to offend this Mother-Marianne-super-fan. "Nothing that some sleep can't shake off."
"Nonsense," Ralph says, still smiling a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He points to a nondescript room in the dim hallway. "I'll have the tea sent to your room in ten minutes. Marianne will be expecting you at dinner in the grand foyer soon after."
"Um," Fiona says as he turns down the hallway. "Thank you."
"Are we going to dinner?" Abin whispers.
Fiona makes sure to wait for the door to close behind her. "I guess we have to."
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