Thirst was starting to engulf his tongue. He pulled out the water he had brought with him and had a sip before continuing. He realized only now that he might not have brought enough to drink, depending on how long he was staying.
Before too long, the slope gave way and the hill peaked. Karl climbed up onto its summit and gazed down into the valley below.
Fort Leddy was only about a mile wide at its largest point. A small river, maybe a large stream, separated the hillside from the town, where trees and grass grew so abundantly the area looked like one large park. It didn’t help that most of the asphalt streets had been broken and patches of nature had reclaimed them.
Karl hadn’t been prepared by the sheer dilapidation of the place. The buildings, though constructed of modern masonry and plastics, cracked and slumped in such a way that the psychologist would assume them to be hundreds of years old, had he not known better. Roofs were sunken in like the flesh of a decaying pumpkin. Some buildings were full of holes, bringing images of war-torn Europe during World War II to Karl’s mind. He found it hard to believe that such destruction was the result of simple neglect, rather than a deliberate and malicious effort.
The whole place would have seemed like a ruinous ghost town, were it not for a bit of motion that caught Karl’s eye.
Deep in the middle of Fort Leddy, a thin column of smoke could be seen rising into the sky.
“People!” Maynard said, breaking the silence in Karl’s head.
I knew it! Karl said. Stewart’s men are here, just as I predicted.
“How can you be sure it’s them?” Maynard said. “In fact, how do we even know there’s people down there? It could just be a natural fire.”
A natural fire that small? No, that’s a campfire.
“A campfire in the middle of town?” Maynard said.
The whole place has been abandoned for years. I doubt any of the old electrical systems are still active, or that anyone’s bothered to repair them. They need to stay warm and cook their food somehow.
With his concentration focused, Karl scanned over the town once more. This time, he was able to make out some colorful and rather pristine-looking forms in the streets. He pulled out a pair of binoculars from his bag and found that that the forms were tents. Dozens, if not hundreds of tents lined the streets, grouped together in such a way that reminded Karl of old music festivals.
Around these tents, Karl saw people stirring, though there were only a few he could see from his vantage point atop the hill. They wore grubby clothes and their hair seemed long and unkempt. The men he saw were all unshaven, some with beards that reached down to their bellies.
Karl couldn’t see any computerized vehicles or artificial lighting at all. The only light came from the stars above and, he presumed, the fires down below. He couldn’t hear anything but the wind and smelled only dust.
“Why aren’t they living in the houses? Why the tents?” Maynard asked.
The houses are probably too damaged, Karl said.
“Then why not fix them back up? They’ve had the time.”
I don’t know, Karl said. It doesn’t look like they have any modern machines down there. Perhaps they are limited by the tools at their disposal.
“They’re like cavemen down there,” Maynard said. “Why don’t they just bring some machines in? I’m sure Stewart could buy them some.”
Not everyone wants to keep up with technology. I’ve never seen it before, but they could be adverse to modernization. Being raised in a town like that, cut off from the grid for half a lifetime, one could see advanced technology as alien and unnatural. I’ve heard people like that called Luddites before.
“What a strange mindset those people must have,” Maynard commented. “To work so hard to avoid progress—it baffles me.”
I agree, but remember that ‘progress’ is a subjective term.
Karl sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the scene below through his binoculars. The more he observed, the more he felt confident in his conclusion that these people were anti-technology. Fort Leddy looked like some sort of survivor camp in an old post-apocalyptic film, he thought.
“So what’s the plan?” Maynard asked. “Sit up here and watch until they progress into the Information Age?”
No, Karl said. The plan is to watch. We need to know what we’re dealing with before we act.
“Then what?”
I don’t know yet. I was going to figure that out as we watched.
“And if nothing happens?”
Then we’ll think of a plan.
“Your plan is to come up with a plan? Maybe you should just let the police hear you say that; they’d never believe you to be the mastermind they think you are.”
Shut up! Karl thought, pulling the binoculars from his face and listening. I hear something.
Maynard heard it, too. “An engine?” he said.
Karl lifted the binoculars once more and followed the sound. A small cloud of dust was being kicked up behind a shiny black Mercedes, which approached Fort Leddy from a dirt road to the north.
Someone’s driving into town! Karl thought.
“What the hell?” Maynard said. He was just as confused as his host. “Maybe it’s the pizza boy?”
I don’t think this is delivery, Maynard. It’s DiGiorno.
The psychologist lay down on the hilltop, worried the approaching car might be able to see him. He blew some dirt away from his lips before resuming his observation.
The vehicle drove straight into town without any concern whatsoever. It stopped just before the center, in a large patch of broken concrete. Karl guessed the location had once been a town square.
Some of the townspeople below were stirring at the car’s approach. They didn’t seem to be worried about the intruder,
