Chapter Four
Walter Yang looked over at Lucinda. “It is time.” he said. Lucinda nodded and mounted her bicycle.
Walter had taken the last few minutes to spray blood from
the 60cc syringes artfully around the house.
Lucinda had pocketed the syringes and needles at work. The presence of human blood is always
accepted as evidence of foul play. Walter sprayed his own blood in one room and
Lucinda’s in another so they would look like co-victims.
It was ten on a Saturday morning. They left the house
unlocked and the alarm system disarmed.
They had a week of vacation and had booked rooms in Napa Valley wine
country. They would not be missed for
nine days.
They bicycled slowly down the drive. They were both dressed in long, khaki cargo
pants, faded denim shirts and gardening gloves.
Lucinda’s straw hat sported a large flower. Walter wore non-prescription
reading glasses.
They would ditch the glasses and the daisy a couple of miles
away from their subdivision.
The seats on their bicycles were low and they had
old-fashioned, swept-back handlebars. They looked like hundreds of other
gardeners pedaling back home from a morning of landscaping work, eager to beat
the heat of the day.
Walter’s bike had a small trailer behind it. Bike trailers had become popular when
personal cars were outlawed. They were
used to haul groceries and small amounts of merchandise.
Lucinda wore a wig that was salt-and-pepper and the braid
went down her back to below her shoulder blades.
They rode at a pace best described as languid. The best way to become invisible is to do
nothing that will be remembered. Old
people, moving slowly, are quickly forgotten.
Their first day was their longest. They rode twenty miles.
At camp that night, Walter pulled an aluminum foil covered
package out of the trailer. It contained
two RFID chips Walter’s nephew, an EMT in Orange County, had removed from the
decayed bodies of an elderly Asian couple who chose to commit suicide rather
than face a slow death by starvation or an undignified death at the hands of
the Walkers.
In lieu of a scalpel, they used 16 gauge, hypodermic needles
to incise the skin. Popping out the
official RFID capsule was no harder than popping a large pimple. The sterilized capsule containing the
replacement RFID tags was more difficult because of the bleeding. A single suture closed the skin and was
covered with a bandaid. They used the
last of the ice to numb the site before their “surgery”.
They burned their official RFID capsules in their
campfire. Walter and Lucinda Yang were
now officially dead.
Their immediate destination was two hundred miles south as
the crow flies. Their route would be
much longer. Again, the way to escape
detection was to not hurry and to wander in a semi-random manner that projected
the impression that they had no destination.
They worked where there was work.
They moved when they heard of work further south, closer to their
destination.
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