Perception (31 page)

“This must be it,” I
said as I turned onto a narrower dirt road. It had deep grooves and I had to
slow right down to avoid bottoming out. Dust ballooned behind us as we
approached a very rudimentary wood building. It had a porch with a rocking
chair, but nothing decorative. No shutters or flower boxes. There were horses
fenced off to one side. Everything looked hand built.

A tall man with a
heavy beard and a hook nose came out through the front door. He was followed by
a lady in a long dress with mousy, brown hair pulled tightly off her face. They
were soon joined by a group of similarly clothed people.

It was a strange
welcoming party. I felt like we had stepped back in time two hundred years.

“What
are
they?” Zoe said.

“They look…Amish?”

“Amish, Amish?” she
said with a hitch in her voice. “As in no tech, no gene manipulation, no chip
inserting, Amish?”

“That or something
like that. We need a place off the grid, remember. And the guy did warn us they
were different.”

“They’re not going to
like me.”

I shot her a look.
“We should keep your personal history to ourselves.”

I got out first and
raised my hands a little, in case someone decided to shoot before asking
questions.

The man in the front
shouted gruffly. “State your business.”

“We need food and
shelter for one night, sir,” I said. “Off the grid.”

The man tugged on his
suspenders and stepped off the porch toward us. “Are you in trouble, son?” he
asked.

“Define trouble.”

“You just answered my
question.” He ducked down to peer through the open car window at Zoe. “Is that
your wife?”

“No sir,” she said.
“I’m not.”

I felt a flash of
disappointment. The old Zoe would’ve jumped at the chance to pose as my wife.

Zoe got out of the
car and stood by me.

“Well, then,” the man
replied. “I’m hoping you’re siblings?” His eyes pointedly scanned my darker
skin and then Zoe’s pale coloring. His expression was skeptical.

“No sir,” I said.
“We’re not.”

The man stroked his
beard, then shouted over his shoulder, “Dorothy!”

The woman who’d been standing behind him on the porch picked
up the skirt of her dress and ran toward us. He motioned to Zoe, “Take this
young lady and get her proper attire.”

Zoe turned away from
them and mouthed, “Seriously?”

“One night,” I
mouthed back. One night.

Acknowledgements

Though writing is often
viewed a lonely, one-person job, for me this is the farthest thing from the
truth. I couldn’t have accomplished any of this without my “team.”

Shout outs go to my
writers group,
the Indelibles
,
who keep me informed, encouraged, and entertained; my lovely editor, Leigh
Moore, who took my words and made them shine; my proof-readers Lori
Vanzyderveld and Marie Clarke, both who have a sharper eye than I; my early
readers, Denise Jaden and Susan Kaye Quinn who gave insightful suggestions and
direction; my cover designer
Dale
Pease
, who blew me out of the water with the cover; my daughter Tasia for
being my muse and inspiration; my son Joel who enlightened me on the topic of
Transhumanism; and my husband Norm for being a steadfast fan.

I’m also thankful to my
friends and family for their constant support and encouragement, to YOU the
reader for reading my book and sticking it out through the acknowledgment page
(!), and as always to God, a faithful friend.