The sun was rising and the pink sky was hastily fading into blue. Montag walked with the book people through the grass which swayed gently in the wind and filled the air with that soft hissing sound. It reminded him of the exaggerated sound that every bomb seemed to make in Mildred's family shows and he wondered if the one that had destroyed the city before them had sounded like that. Probably not. Such sounds and images were painfully artificial and the charred rubble and steel in the distance was the most painfully real thing Montag had ever laid his eyes upon. A thick black plume of smoke rose up above the ruined skyscrapers like a slithering snake, dousing the surrounding countryside in its crisp, ghastly smell.
Also containing that smell were the people. Montag and the other book people passed them by on their way to the city. Some travelled alone, some in groups, although everyone might as well have belonged to the former category, for their eyes were glazed and their steps slow and aimless, as if they didn't know what to do with themselves outside the city. Montag realized that they almost certainly didn't. Of course they didn't! How was a people so used to families and fun parks, so accustomed to speeding away from their sorrows with fast beetle cars, meant to cope with having their home and way of life destroyed? Montag wondered just how they would fare out in the countryside.
Guy was just about to express this sentiment with his increasingly talkative fellow book people when one of the groups caught his eye. Upon glancing at them with a careless eye, he'd experienced a flash of recognition that made him double take and look closer. It was a woman he trained his eyes on and she was seemingly no different than the others, dazed and dead-eyed like the rest of them, except for the fact that Montag was sure that he knew her.
Could it really be…? His wife…?
No, it couldn't, Montag thought to himself. She died in the blast, you saw the bombs fall. There was no way she could have survived it, especially if she happened to be watching the family at the time, which she almost certainly would have been. And yet, here they were, surrounded by other survivors, many of which had to have been watching their families too, above ground just as Mildred would have. And yes, now that he looked closer, he recognized that brown hair and that fair skin and that way of dead staring that was uniquely hers when she would look at her family. Yes, that almost certainly had to be his wife.
Still, Montag couldn't yet be completely sure, for the two were still many paces away. So, he called out to her.
"Millie?" he said at first. But she didn't acknowledge him, still too trapped in her daze. Montag tried again. "Millie!" he shouted.
Now the other book people were staring at him, puzzled expressions on their faces. No doubt, they thought he was going mad with grief. "Montag…?" Granger asked. "Are you alright?" His brow was furrowed with worry.
But Montag only turned to him and smiled. "Am I alright?" he echoed. "Why, of course, I am. That's my wife, I'm almost certain of it. I'm sure I'd recognize her anywhere," and with that, he began to cross the grassy expanse shouting, "Millie. Millie!" all the way.
Mildred still would not acknowledge Montag, but someone else walking with her did. The brown eyes behind his spectacles were not as vacant as the others' and Guy found that he recognized them just as well as his wife's. Why, they were the same ones that had gazed at him so imploringly when he began his chase out of the city to evade the mechanical hound.
"Faber!" he shouted as he grew closer, his face lighting up. Faber's did the same as he waved to Montag and he put his hands on Mildred's shoulders to stop her mindless trek.
"Montag," Faber said, delighted, when Guy was within earshot. "You've evaded the Hound! And without a scratch either! I was so worried for you but you managed it. Well done!"
"Thank you, Faber," Montag said and he turned to his wife. Her expression was nearly as blank as it had been when he'd first noticed her, but there was a hint of confusion shining through, as if she couldn't conceive of why this man would be standing before her. Montag tried to make her remember.
"Millie, remember me?" he asked, stepping closer. "I know we didn't leave things on the best note, but I remember now. Millie, I remember how we met. It was Chicago. And we really did love each other back then. Oh, dear, Millie, now don't you remember?"
Mildred said nothing, only blinked, as if still confused. Then a flash of recognition sparked in her eyes. For a moment, Montag's spirits lifted. Perhaps she would remember their feelings for each other.
Instead, Millie shrieked and pushed him to the muddy ground.
"Oh, Montag, what are you doing here!? Guy Montag, what are you doing!? You're supposed to be dead, I set the firemen after you! I watched the hound impale you on the family, you're supposed to be dead!"
For a moment, Montag could only stare at his wife in astonishment. Then his expression sobered to disappointment, then resignation. Of course. He should have expected his wife to react something like this. Her presumed death had placed over his memories a pair of rose-tinted glasses, ones that only saw his renewed collections of those first nights in Chicago. But that simply wasn't the truth of their marriage nor the truth of his wife's nature.
Mildred took off, running away blindly. "Mildred, wait!" Montag called as Faber helped him up. He almost went after her but just as soon as Mildred had started, she was stopped as she ran straight into the book people and Granger restrained her. They looked at him quizzically, as if to ask if Montag was sure this was his wife.
"That's my wife, Mildred," Montag explained to them.
The book people looked from Montag, to Mildred struggling in Granger's arms, back to Montag again. "Well, there's no accounting for taste, I suppose," Granger muttered.
Montag flushed. "She wasn't like that when I met her," he muttered.
"Let go of me!" Mildred shrilled as she twisted and turned in Granger's arms. "Why are you keeping me around him!? He's a criminal, he ought to be dead!"
Montag frowned. Despite his murky feelings for Mildred a part of him did still love her, as he realized after the bombing. To hear her shriek about how she wanted to get away from him sent a sharp pang through his arm.
Fortunately, Faber defended him. "Don't be silly," he said to Millie and in a hushed voice, he continued, "I don't think Montag has personally done anything wrong by opening up a few books and trying to read them. It'd do you good to actually give them a fair chance. And even if he had been in the wrong - which he hadn't been - what is there to be done about it now? He got away from the hound and the hound can't try again because it almost certainly has been destroyed in the blast. In fact, just about everything has been destroyed. The war is over. There is nothing that can be done about Montag now, and honestly, there are more important matters at hand."
This sound line of reasoning, of course, had no impact on Mildred, who continued to shout about Montag's criminality and betrayal to the country and peace of mind. Montag sighed. "Let's just all ignore her. I don't recall her having anything of substance to say in years and years."
"Of course, of course," Faber said. "I think if we all tried to talk any sense in here, we would probably go as insane as she already is."
"You know, I still am quite glad to have found her, though," Montag said and he turned to Faber. "How on Earth did you find her?"
"I saved her, of course."
"Really?" Montag asked.
"Why, of course. You won't believe it, but I came across her on my way out of the city. She was in a hotel lobby. Apparently, she'd been arguing with the clerk because she couldn't get a room, no money. But eventually, she settled for watching the family on the outside, without a room. Well, she happened to be watching the end of your chase with the mechanical hound - though I suppose it wasn't your chase anymore - when my bus made a stop at her hotel. Somehow I recognized her and brought her with me. She was happy to go and listen to the incessant ad jingles on the bus. But now that the bus is destroyed as well as all the families she's simply distraught. She is okay, however. Physically, anyway. So, it was quite lucky that I found her when I did."
"Well, thank you, Faber," Montag said, smiling. "I really do appreciate it. I believe you're more resourceful than even you think you are."
Faber flushed. "Oh, now you're giving me too much credit! But let's change the subject, shall we? Now, where are you lot off to?" Faber asked. "I couldn't help but notice that all of you were going in the wrong direction."
"No, we're not," Granger said. "We're headed towards the city to help rebuild."
"You're headed towards the city!?" Mildred shrieked. Everyone ignored her.
"Rebuild?" Faber said, sounding somewhat astonished. "Apologies, sir, but, if you are a group of those travelling bookish nomads I've heard so much, which I believe you are-"
"You would believe correct then," said Granger.
"Then surely there's not much that we can do. We're only book people. We have no practical skills to help rebuild a city that has been destroyed so thoroughly," and he looked over to the city's ruins and put his hands on his hips, as if to illustrate his frustration.
"That may be the case, but I don't believe that means we won't have anything valuable to contribute," Granger says. "People will need wisdom to rebuild, people to share the words of the past so they don't build back the same empty, hedonistic society we once had, but something better. Who better to do that than us?"
"Well, I suppose you have a point there," Faber said. "Oh, alright, I suppose I'll help. It's not as if I have anywhere to go and I'd be worried sick if Montag here went in somewhere dangerous and I didn't know what was happening with him."
Montag smiled. "That makes me happy to hear. Thank you, Faber."
Faber only flushed. "Oh, it really is nothing," he said, brushing it off. His eyes widened. "Oh! If we're going to go into the city, we best be careful. There'll no doubt be quite a bit of radiation poisoning from the bombs. It's best if we have some sort of protection." It was then that Montag and the book people noticed that Faber had a bag he was carrying with him. He reached into it, took out a handful of cloths and presented them to the group. "If we soak these in the river and place them over our noses then that should protect us long enough until we can find something better."
Granger nodded and took a cloth, as did the other people. Montag took two, one for him and his wife. "Thank you so much for this…" Granger paused.
"Professor Faber."
"Professor Granger." Granger held his hand out to shake which Faber took. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
"Well, we all best be off now," Granger said. "If we keep talking here, we'll reach the city at sunset instead of noon."
Everyone murmured their agreement, except for Mildred who shouted, "This is crazy! You're all crazy, you know!? There aren't even any working families in the city! Not one! Not one!" She struggled against Granger's grip but he was much stronger and simply placed her over his shoulder as if she was a sack of potatoes.
And so, the Montag, Granger, Faber and the book people returned to their conversation. And they set off for the river and then the city. After all, they still had a long way to go until noon.
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