The E Utopia Project by Kudakwashe Muzira Page A

to avoid falling. “I don’t know why
someone wants to kill me. This is absurd.”
    He took off the breathing
machine and handed it to her.
    “Think hard, Sara.” He
crossed a small dry stream and stood akimbo, his eyes searching the sky, waiting
for her to cross the dry stream. “Why would anyone want to kill you?”
    “I don’t know. My duties as
GEMA Director include saving the world from El Monstruo and that is supposed to
make me everyone’s friend.”
    “Perhaps someone doesn’t want
the Earth to be saved.”
    “We will all die if the world
ends? Why would anyone want to stop me from contributing to the fight against
El Monstruo?”
    “Maybe they want the world to
be saved by someone else. Maybe they fear you’ll get too powerful. If you save
the world, your popularity will rise. You could become the next US President.”
    “I’m not a politician,
George.”
    “Maybe someone doesn’t
believe that.” He poked her. “Get down!”
    Sara quickly took cover
behind a tree trunk and hugged her knees to make herself small. George did the
same two meters away from her. Looking up, Sara saw the drone going in the
direction opposite where she and George were going.
    They resumed walking when the
drone disappeared from their view.
    “My turn to breathe,” George
said.
    She gave him the breathing
machine but he returned it to her after only twenty seconds when he noted the
shortness of her breath. Looking at him, she remembered a time when she had a
picnic with him in the woods in a place that looked just like this one. She
closed her eyes for a moment and let the pictures of the picnic flash through
her mind. She opened her eyes and pushed the pictures from her mind. Those memories
were from another life.
    “I don’t think they have just
one drone. Maybe they have two or three drones looking for us.”
    “We should phone the police,”
Sara said.
    “From the looks of it, some
kind of mafia wants to take you out. The mafia often has moles in the police. We
can’t risk phoning the police.”
    They walked at a steady pace
through the dense woods, avoiding places that had no trees. After walking for
more than ten minutes they came to the interstate.
    “What do we do now?” Sara
asked.
    “Let’s walk along the interstate
and look for a ride before it gets dark. I have a feeling that when it gets
dark, the people looking for you will send a whole battalion in search of us.”
    Sara nodded. She trusted his
judgment. He was a soldier who had survived Taliban attacks in the Afghan
campaign. He knew how to deal with this kind of situation.
    “It’s my turn to breathe,” he
said.
    She gave him the machine.
    “Are we going to go to your
place?” she asked.
    “No. It’s possible that the
assassins now know that I’m the one who’s helping you.  But one thing is for
sure; there is no way they will know about my uncle, Martin.”
    Sara’s face broke into a
grin. “Is Uncle Martin still around?”
    “Yes, he’s as strong as ever.
He will be delighted to see you.”
    “I will be delighted to see
him too. It’s been ages since I last saw Uncle Martin.”
    “Why didn’t you visit him,
Sara?” George rebuked. “Uncle Martin loves you. Breaking up with me shouldn’t
mean breaking up with my uncle.”
    Sara wanted to shout that it
was George who broke up with her, but she shut her mouth when she realized she
was too tired to argue. Now she had to focus all her energy on escaping the
predators who wanted to kill her.
    “Your turn,” he said, taking
off the breathing machine. “I almost forgot that I’m supposed to share the
machine with you. I hope you won’t accuse me of trying to suffocate you. You’re
in a hell of an accusatory mood today.”
    They remained five meters inside
the woods and walked parallel to the interstate.
    “A truck is coming,” George
said. “Take off the machine and ask the driver to stop. They usually stop for
beautiful ladies.”
    Sara blushed. It was a long
time since