Читать книгу Ten Days - John Sheppard - Страница 6

It was refreshing to breathe in air less laden with humidity, Samantha thought as she jogged. The weather patterns had, at least for the last three days, broken the stream of hot humid air coming in from the ocean and replaced it with cooler, drier air from the mountains. At the end of summer, the weather was in that state of flux as mountain air fought to gain the upper hand until next spring.

Samantha was better known as Sam to her friends. Her full name was Samantha Ann Carrolton-Logan. The morning jogs had been part of her routine since her college days here in the capital. The well-developed paths which paralleled the river were perfect. Wide steps worked their way down the river embankment from the street level, throughout the city, to the paths and river below. Not only did the paths give a jogger a sense of privacy not found at the street level, but perfectly maintained gardens provided splashes of color which made the jog more enjoyable.

Sam had been a widow for three years. After all that time, she still missed jogging with her husband, Lt. Chad Logan. They had shared a love for the outdoors, history, music, country, and so much more. He understood her keeping her maiden name for professional reasons, but wasn’t totally happy with it. Chad was a bit old-fashioned in some regards, but it was part of his charming character.

They had gone to the small university in the capital, and had some of the same classes. He was a tall, good looking, athletic guy, but kind of shy. She was attracted to him and kept trying to find ways to meet him, but every attempt had ended in failure. Sam was told by her friends that he could be stubborn but had a great sense of humor. Finally, one day, she and Chad had gotten into a heated argument in a history class discussion over their nation’s policy of neutrality in each of the two World Wars.

The argument had spilled over into some of the other classes they shared and had become personal. In one of those classes a friend of Chad’s had joined the argument and made a very unkind statement about Sam’s intelligence. Chad almost decked his friend.

Later that evening, Chad stopped by her dorm room to apologize for his friend’s comments. While talking to her in the dorm, he decided he wanted to get to know her better. Chad thought that there was real depth to Sam’s personality. So many of the women on campus he had met were self-absorbed, more interested in trivial stuff than the world around them. He liked her quick wit and warm, inviting smile. It didn’t hurt that he also thought she was one of the most attractive women on campus. The weather that evening was beautiful, so he asked her to join him for a walk. Sam accepted the invitation.

The first walk led to more walks, jogs, and hiking together. Then lunch and dinner dates. Friendship grew into love, even as war approached, and Chad joined the military. His deciding to join didn’t surprise Sam; he was a man of principle and commitment. His love of country ran deep, like that of many within this land.

The idea to get married had been his and that had surprised her. It was at the spur of the moment, before his leave ended. She has said yes, because she loved him and trusted his love for her. Sam knew that no matter what happened, if at all possible, he would return to her.

They had a simple ceremony with just a few close friends, near the main fountain on Republic Square. Her parents had not been able to attend because Kirkmont, the city they lived in, was under attack, and travel was dangerous. Chad would die less than two weeks later, defending Kirkmont. Sam was told that his patrol had been ambushed just outside the city. His death had made her a widow at the young age of twenty-four. During the last three years, she couldn’t even bring herself to consider dating anyone else.

The morning jog had cleared her mind and prepared her for the rest of the day, which would take anything but physical exertion. Sam was an archivist at the National Museum of History and Art. Since graduation from college she had lived in a small apartment in the northwestern quadrant of the city, on the other side of the river. It gave her a glimpse of the square from her bedroom, and it was a ten-minute walk to work.

The National Museum of History and Art was a pretty traditional art museum building. It was built in a low-slung Italian Renaissance style. Delicate arches and ornamentation of white marble faced the square. The main building was connected by a glass corridor to what was now called the Annex. The Annex used to be called St. Luke’s Cathedral in a less secular time. St. Luke’s had been built to mirror some of the grandeur of the great cathedrals of Europe, but in a neo-Gothic style, and was now used for some official state functions, and concerts.

At 7:50 AM, Sam crossed the west parking lot and entered a side door of the main building used by the employees. Within minutes, her footfalls were echoing through now dimly lit and vacant galleries as she made her way to the offices.

On November 18th, last year, the museum suddenly closed to the public, and over the next six weeks, convoys of trucks pulled up to the building, emptying the contents of the museum. They were loaded into the trucks and whisked away to the port city, and from there to storage on safer shores. The artwork which was shipped away was deemed to be of international importance, and therefore no one would want it to fall into the hands of the barbaric Enemy. National treasures and history didn’t seem to interest the international community, much like this small nation itself.