Chapter 7

Lise woke before dawn, thinking of scrip. She reached under her mattress, retrieved the yellow card and regarded it. If she had four more like this one -- she could buy that mediascreen.

She rose, bathed and headed across the courtyard to Tagg’s building. Up the stairs she trotted and rapped on the door to his apartment. An older man opened the door. “Hello, Lise.”

“Is Tagg here?”

The man nodded toward the corner where Tagg’s mattress lay. The boy jumped up, pulled on a pair of shorts and approached her.

“Tagg -- let’s do more drawings.”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“Not today -- it’s a rest day for the whites. Megan is home with the twins, so I have the day off. The laundry is open, so my mother has to work, and it’s cleanup day at the construction site, so Grott had to go in. He’ll be back by noon. We can go to my place and sketch.” She smiled and wrinkled the bridge of her nose. “And, afterward ... if there’s time, we can...”

“I’ll get my sketchpad.”

Tagg followed Lise across the courtyard. “Wait,” he said. “I don’t feel comfortable doing this in Grott’s home.”

“He’s warming up to you, Tagg. And -- he’ll be gone ‘til noon.”

“But if he comes home early and finds us ... Why don’t we go to the old park -- at the other end of the Zone? We could do some outdoor sketches.”

“Outdoors? No, Tagg...”

“The place is deserted. I used to wander over there with my friends.”

“What if someone else’s friends wander over there?”

“We never saw anyone else.”

Tagg tucked his sketchpad under his arm. Lise took his hand and they began walking along a street. The pavement was cracked and tufts of vegetation had sprouted. They walked past decaying buildings in a direction away from the city.

The buildings became more dilapidated as they walked. Some had roofs that had caved in, and many were stripped of doors and windows. “This was a rich part of the city, once,” Lise observed.

“This part is deserted even by novonids,” Tagg replied.

They turned a corner. Tagg pushed open a rusted gate in a stone wall. A city-block- sized park, overgrown with waist-high brush lay beyond. He led her down a flagstone path.

“This is spooky, Tagg.”

“It’s fine,” he replied.

“Yiiii!” Lise shrieked as a many-footed arthropod the size of her forearm scurried across the path.

“They’re harmless. Over this way -- there’s the old viaduct. That might be a good setting.”

Lise followed him as he pushed through the scrub. They arrived at the ruins of the viaduct. He gestured to a caved-in stone arch.

“Pose on that,” he said. Lise stripped off her bandeau top and started to remove her shorts. “You can leave those on,” he said. “I’ll sketch you from the waist up.”

She climbed onto a fallen chunk of concrete. “How do you want me to pose?”

“Kneel ... Now, arch your back and hold yourself up with your arms ... lean back and look up ... Perfect!”

Tagg sat on a rock and began sketching. “This is great, Lise. I’ll call this series Scenes from the Zone.”

“This is really uncomfortable,” she replied.

“Who said good art is easy?” Tagg continued to sketch. “Okay, done.”

Lise sat up and rubbed the insides of her elbows. “Let’s see.” Tagg showed her the drawing. She nodded with approval. “Now what?”

“How many should we do?” Tagg asked.

“At least three more.”

“Hmm ... Sit on that stone.”

“Like this?”

“Yes -- hug your knees.” Tagg looked from several angles. “Put your left hand down ... and your left leg. I want to see one of your breasts.”

Lise giggled. “What is this doing for you, Tagg?”

“Seeing you like this really gets my artistic juices flowing.”

“I’ll bet it’s getting some juices flowing.”

“Admit it, Lise. You like doing this, too.”

“I do. There is something sexy about it.”

Tagg walked back and forth. “You look great from here.” He stood and sketched. “How long can you hold that pose?”

“For a while.”

“I’m going to put in more background. You really do dress up that old viaduct, Lise.” He sketched more. “Done.” He showed her the drawing.

“That’s very nice. I like how you have the brush in the foreground. You’re getting better and better, Tagg.”

“For the next one, I want you to stand with your back to me.” Lise complied and stood before one of the viaduct’s arches. “Turn toward me a little ... bring your shoulder back...” He leaned to the left and to the right. “That’s good.”

“Is this one from the waist up, too?”

“No -- it’s full-figure.”

“Shall I take my shorts off?”

“No -- I can get your ass right.”

“TAGG!” She laughed.

Tagg finished the sketch and showed it to her. “What do you think?”

“It’s the best one yet. Where should we do the next one?”

“I don’t know ... Let’s walk this way.”

Lise accompanied him to the end of the park holding Tagg’s hand and carrying her bandeau. “This part of the Zone certainly is deserted,” she remarked. “I feel like you and I are the only survivors of a dead city.”

They encountered a high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Beyond the fence was a savanna of scrub and wild pomma. A four-legged beast with a long ostrich neck grazed. It raised its head, turned and looked their way. Then it resumed grazing.

“The city just stops here,” Lise remarked.

“Yes, and way yonder are the pomma farms.”

Lise scanned the pomma savanna and the broad vista of open sky overhead. “Look!” she said, pointing skyward, and Tagg’s eyes followed her gesture. A large, winged creature made lazy circles overhead as it rode the thermals rising from the open fields. She worked her fingers through the chain-link. “Is this fence to keep us inside or the animals out?”

“Both, I think.”

“It looks like nothing ... Nothing but scrub as far as the eye can see.”

“Lise!” Tagg pointed toward the woods.

“What?”

“I saw someone.”

“Where?” Lise folded her arms across her breasts.

“Over there in the woods ... He’s gone now. Lise! It was a feral.”

“A feral novonid? No, Tagg -- they don’t live around here. They live in the woods between the pomma farms. There are tales of tribes of them living in the far north.”

“That’s what it was,” Tagg replied. “I didn’t see a registration mark. That must be what the fence is for -- to keep ferals out of the city.”

“The whole city isn’t behind a fence, Tagg.”

“No -- but the Zone is. Think about it, Lise. A feral wouldn’t dare come into the white parts of the city. They might seek shelter here in the Zone, though. I’ve heard whites in the country have started hunting ferals. Maybe a tribe of them headed toward Vyonna to avoid the hunters.”

“If that’s what it was -- it’s really something,” Lise mused, “spotting a feral. I don’t think my folks ever saw one -- not even when they were on the farms.”

“I’ve heard stories, too,” Tagg said. “They escaped from the farms and live in the woods and hedgerows ... whole families of them. They eat small animals -- like that decapod we saw in the park.”

“Eeeew.” Lise shuddered. “Don’t remind me.” She turned from the fence. Tagg slipped his arm around her and she leaned against him.

“Come this way.” Tagg led her down a crumbled sidewalk. “Let’s look in here.” He pushed open the door to an abandoned hotel.

They walked into what was the lobby and past a bank of lifts long ago out of order. He led her past a lounge and through a doorway to a corridor of guest rooms.

Tagg picked a room and pushed open the door. The windows had been smashed. He picked his way through the broken glass.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he said, “and lean against the wall near the window.” He began sketching. “Turn your face and look out the window. Don’t smile ... look serious ... sad even, if you can manage it. Perfect.”

Lise looked out onto the empty, overgrown street.

“Done!”

Lise stepped to him and looked at his drawing. “Tagg! This is amazing. I look like some abandoned youth, living all by myself in a broken building.”

“It’s about how we live.”

“How we live isn’t nearly this dreary. It’s a powerful picture, Tagg -- one with a message.”

“Shouldn’t art have a viewpoint? Can’t it make a political statement? I’m just getting going, now. Why don’t you get on your hands and knees on that bed?”

“That bed must’ve been collecting dust and grime for a hundred years.” She climbed onto it. “Like this?”

“Yes ... No -- I have a better idea. Lie on your stomach and make it look like you’re just getting up.”

“For this one I think I should be totally nude...” She slipped off her shorts and lay on the mattress.

“That’s it ... now, grasp for something. That’s it -- you’re down and hurt and reaching for a helping hand.”

He began sketching.

“This is the most political one of them all,” Lise said. “Maybe if your constable friend sees this one, she won’t let you sketch in the park any more.”

“There. Look.”

Lise sat up on the mattress. Tagg sat beside her and showed her the drawing. She nodded. “Yes, it’s very good.”

“Maybe I should put tears on her face...”

“No -- don’t. I think that would be too much.”

Tagg tilted his head one way and the other. “I think you’re right.”

Lise threw her arms around him and kissed his cheeks. “Tagg -- you’re such a brilliant artist!” She kissed his lips. “I love you.”

He put down the sketchpad, then embraced and kissed her. She felt his tongue against hers.

She sat on his lap. “I know why you picked this room,” she said.

“I didn’t know the bed was in here.”

“Should I believe that?”

“It’s the truth...”

She caressed his shoulders and arms; then lay on her back.

Tagg lay beside her. They began kissing and caressing each other.

She ran her fingers across his chest. “Here, Tagg ... gently ... That’s it. Go slow ... No need to rush.”

“This feels good, Lise. You’re so beautiful...”

“It feels good to me, too. Do it just like that for a while. Mmm...” She closed her eyes and pulled her shoulder blades together. “Remember, Tagg -- a girl needs more time than a boy. It’s worth it ... Mmm ... both hands like that...” Lise felt her body go limp. Tension drained from her muscles and built in her pelvis. She hooked her arm around Tagg’s neck and brought his ear to her breast.

“Your heart’s pounding, Lise.”