Still sitting on the rail, in the cool night air, waiting for Stephan to return, I began to hear a strange sound. It was a distant beating roar. It grew, and it came from the west. It sounded like something large was approaching. Indeed it was! Immediately I ran to the garage and tossed my diaries into Stephan’s Lambo, and then bolted to the house. I slid over the tiles and wood of the floors, heading for the drawing room. Mom was not there, and so I took off for the far kitchen, clear on the other side of the house. There she was.
“Mom! What’s that noise outside?”
“Honey, I can’t hear it so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It sounds like a far away beating sound…”
Mom immediately stopped one of her epic cooking projects she was engaged in. She went outside and indeed heard a distinctive sound.
“Louisa! You know the drill, baby! Hurry! Run off into the woods. Go! Now!” She then called out loudly, “Security! General alarm!”
Mom ran into the house, hit the alarms, and grabbed an arm full of thermal shields, and handed me one. She then grabbed a couple of guns and some ammo, those that were always by our doors. Our security men dashed to our sides, pulling out their own weapons and thermal shields, checking them over. Mom pointed to in the direction where I was to run.
“Don’t just stand there, Louisa! Go! You’re a target too, you’re heir to the throne!”
“Mom, the Lamborghini! They won’t detect you and I in it!”
“They’ll see us if they search the garage. Now go!”
Mom signaled a guard to scoop me up, and he took off with me in his arm, and in a dead run for the tall fir forest, as I cried out. “Mom!”
Indeed our little family was now split up and spread out, making as much distance from the house and each other as possible, wearing hooded coveralls designed to block any heat seeking devices, and to scramble Federation implant scanners for at least a dozen minutes, maybe more, if engineer-king Stephan was indeed successful at improving them.
I looked back as Mom and a couple of security men set the horses free, along with other livestock. It was all a part of an escape plan. I heard the distinct sound of Stephan’s Lambo as a guard sped off with it, probably taking state documents, and a few national and monarchy treasures to safety. He struggled with the old fashioned centuries ago clutch, but managed to get the car into high gear.
I sobbed and cried while being carried from home grounds and into the forest,
“Your Highness, Quiet!” The big bodyguard commanded, “You can’t cry right now.”
He continued to carry me deeper into the woods, and then finally set me down, keeping a firm grip on my wrist to save me from my own mistakes. He now had his gun drawn, and he checked over the defensive tools he had on hand. He handed me a weapon, one I was well trained to use. It was a small and easy to aim handgun. I also had a knife with me, something I had on me at all times. He reminded me about the use of safety on the pistol, and how to take it off safety. I knew about that already, but this was standard procedure. I stuffed the handgun away where I could easily reach it.
“Ok, Your Highness, you know the way to your hiding place. I’ll follow. I’m right here with you, ok? Let’s go!”
Overhead, and not far away, the thumping sound was deafening.
“I’m scared.” I said.
“Come on, just go! Now! Or I’ll have to carry you again! It’s quicker if you lead the way. So be quiet, and go!”
I nodded and swallowed my sobs, knowing well that we could not well afford tears right now, even if only eight years old. I had been well briefed and drilled on matters of personal security.
Such is the monarchy business - in a time of the near absence of national sovereignty …
I now simply took off in a mad run that only kids can do, bobbing and ducking through the underbrush, my bodyguard playing hell keeping up, but doing so at all costs.
Indeed I knew these woods by heart, even those that did not belong to our vast estate. This was the extended backyard of Stephan, relatives, friends, neighbors, local hunters and I.
We were unique in that we did not live in the designated ghetto-like high rise human habitat zones as dictated by the World Federation long ago, in some remote UN Agenda. I forget which Agenda it was, but it was the start of our present day hell. That Agenda sort of sneaked up on an unaware and indifferent population that was addicted to chemicals, bad food and television.
Many of us broke the rules, and continued to live in the countryside, which was now made up of scarce farms, a few villages, rebel shanties and the vast estates of the select elite, including ours, and then a vast wilderness.
I took to a pile of limestone boulders, and on hands and knees, peeked over a log at the distant Alps. That was where we were going, for I did not trust my usual hiding place. I then took to another rocky outcrop, and looked back at the house. I almost let out a cry.
My security guy stopped my sound with his hand.
The house was ablaze on one wing, and already some of our staff lay dead.
Once I regained myself, he signaled for us to take off again. Again I dove into the deep woods, leading the way to neutral territory, a place that threatened financial warfare on Chairman Wilcox all the time, and a place that would hold all his gold and bearer notes captive, on some far off asteroid, if need be. He dare not attack that little nation, for Wilcox depended completely on all his financials. This little nation had been at this sort of monetary warfare for centuries, along with making people full on rich cheese, spicy pizza and chocolate, and famed for saving some Rembrandts from the hazards of tyranny, barbarity and greed.
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