by Lynda Engler
Isabella was grateful for the bloodless coup, but did not want the greenhouse workers and those who protested their arrest to give up and go home now that they had been freed. She had much more to accomplish today!
The central gathering room of the school had children’s desks, tables, and chairs scattered around it and Isabella pulled one over to the long end of the room and stood on top. “Help me get everyone’s attention,” she asked her brother.
Luke stuck his thumb and index finger in his mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle that reverberated off the walls and almost had Isabella sticking her own fingers in her ears. Luke got their attention and she took over, loudly. “Harrison can never imprison our people like this again!” People looked up at her and shouted their approval.
She continued. “We can’t let him get away with this!” The crowd applauded and cheered, simultaneously letting out their frustration with the situation and their relief that their own friends were now free. But it wasn’t enough. Isabella needed them and she needed their rage.
“He monitors your communications and listens to your private conversations. He’s gone way past his job description from president to dictator!” More agreement from the crowd, both from the previous detainees and from those who came to protest their detention.
She stuck her chest out, lifted her chin, and barreled on. “He tells you lies because he thinks you are either too stupid to know better or gullible enough to trust him just because he’s president!”
The crowd got louder. They did NOT like to be treated like idiots. Or sheep.
“We don’t trust Harrison!” shouted someone near her – Mathias? She wasn’t sure.
As the crowd got louder, Isabella forged ahead, seeing her opportunity to turn the angry crowd her way. “And worst of all, he’s killing people.” This raised questioning looks in the assembled people and in the crowd, Roan fed her the line she needed next.
“Who’s he killing?”
She forged on. “He’s killing people as sure as if he shot them himself. He’s sending unprotected people Outside to clean up the contaminated Yellow Zones. He’s not just a dictator, he’s a monster!”
“He’s murdering mutants!” shouted someone, and this time it was not one of their group. The stranger shouted louder. “Harrison’s the monster, not the mutants!”
“We want our government back. We want it to protect us, not spy on us. We want it to do what is right, not tell us what is right. We want freedom from this government’s tyranny!”
The crowd roared.
Isabella continued. “But we must give freedom to all, including the mutants. We can’t be prosperous while they starve and die. We can’t be free while they are slaves.” The enthusiastic crowd encouraged her and Isabella continued, louder, and stronger, gaining confidence. She knew she was right and now she was sure she could get others to take action.
She doled out her next words at just the right pace for maximum impact. “President Kennedy once said that the cost of freedom is always high, but Americans have always paid it. He said that our goal was not victory of might but the vindication of right. That’s what we have to do today. We must vindicate what is right, and right is for ALL to be free.”
The crowd cheered and in one voice, began to chant, “Free the mutants! Free the mutants!”
* * *
Malcolm
Reema Sura was on their side, and if Malcolm read her right, so were some other soldiers. This was his wife’s doing, he knew it. Isabella left her family shelter for adventure and because she fell in love with him – though he still had trouble believing he was lucky enough to have a gorgeous shelter girl for a wife! – but he knew that she also left the shelter to change the world. Now she was getting her chance.
Malcolm waited until the rest of his cell awoke and the soldiers brought them their lumpy, tasteless breakfast. He had no idea when they would get the chance to escape, but they would need their strength when the time came. He had quiet conversations with each of the prisoners that morning, telling them what he knew about the upcoming rescue that Isabella was planning. He took advantage of the guard’s mistake of allowing them to talk between cells and passed along their message of liberation down the aisle, each one passing their escape plans to the next cell.
Jarrick sent a message to his wife Gendi to get away from the fighting, keep their daughter safe, and he would come find them when he could. Clay sent nearly the same message to Kalla. All the new humans conveyed their messages and their deepest emotions to those they cared about in other cells. Within hours, every prisoner in every cell knew that a jailbreak was imminent, and knew what to do, to the best of their ability. Now they waited.
Chapter Twenty-four
Isabella
Mt. Weather might not have a prison, but the military barracks had a brig. The term apparently came from the navy, but since all post-war military forces were now combined into a single entity, they used terms from each old branch. The underground city was in many ways like a military submarine so the term might even make sense.
The brig was not on any single level of the city; instead the military had its own tunnel that shot out sideways from the main city, much like the manufacturing facilities and greenhouses. Access to the complex was from the southwest of the city from levels five, six, and seven. Most of the military stationed at Mt. Weather lived there, except for those who already had domi’s prior to joining the military, like Daphne. Many Mt. Weather high school students decided that the military was a good career choice because they weren’t fighting any wars and most of what they did was act as police for the city, babysit ground transport between the two cities and the 96 FRCs, make resupply visits for family shelters, and oversee cleaning missions. When Daphne finished school, she did not have a clue where she wanted to work, but also knew she did not want to stay in her parents’ home, so she applied for an individual residence and was approved. She had been a top student and that was one of the benefits of making grades at Mt. Weather. She took some college classes but got tired of homework by age nineteen and joined the military. She thought she would see what was left of the world.
Daphne had never planned for her main assignment to become deployment on mutant roundup missions. Once she met Isabella on one such mission, her entire mindset changed. She had not only begun to see the mutants differently, she began to accept them as individuals, as humans. After that, she could no longer ignore the false ideals that her government had spread since she had been a child. The night Daphne had discussed her past with Isabella had been the moment Isabella knew that she could count on her new friend, no matter what the future held.
Right now, that future involved freeing Sergeant Kirby Miller, Corporal Colm Reynolds, and the rest of the group from the brig. They had almost 100 people from the greenhouse demonstration and those outside the makeshift jail who had joined them and the entire group were ready to head down to level ten and release the mutants, or die trying. But without military support, the would-be freedom fighters would be mowed down by bullets like so many flies in a bug zapper. They needed every soldier they could convince, and that began with Miller and Reynolds.
The protestors were sent to their homes to await notice that the jailbreak was on. They would stay near their consoles all day and wait for a message that told them what time “the party” started, and then they were to gather back at the empty elementary school, this time not as detainees, but as freedom fighters. They would bring whatever weapons they had, and while guns were not allowed in the underground city, Isabella was surprised at how many had been stashed away by residents. They were family heirlooms, brought into the city by their ancestors, and as Americans, few gave up their guns readily.
Daphne had her military issue handgun, and Isabella carried her friend’s stun gun on the sticky patch holster of the khaki pants Daphne had dressed her in, to go along with the uniform shirt and cap. Even with over 100 civilian protesters, they did not have the might to simply marc
h into the military complex and free the prisoners – they had to do this by stealth.
All three entrances were locked with the same palm-reading keypad that secured all the doors in the city, so the door on level seven opened when Daphne waived her hand across it. They appeared to be two soldiers returning to the complex, and while Isabella had no identification, as long as she kept her head down and stayed with Daphne, it was not difficult to pull off the deception as long as she looked the part.
The private on duty at the brig snapped a salute, which Daphne returned. “I have orders to remand the prisoners to Captain Jacobs for their hearing. We are here to escort them immediately.” She handed over an order that looked legitimate even though she had just printed it out this morning after Lester Schmidt created the document. Mathias’ younger brother at West Point was quite adept at hacking into the military system and falsifying documents and he knew that any successful plan to get the mutants out of their cells was going to require help from the men in the brig.
The private replied, “Yes, ma’am,” and placed the order in a metal bin on a nearby desk, then keyed a numeric code to open the brig door. “Of course, they will remain in handcuffs while you transport them to the courtroom. I hope these five fry at their court martial. Imagine breaking orders like they did.” He shook his head in dismay, and then glanced at Corporal Daphne Noble and something changed in his face.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I spoke out of turn. It is not for me to decide their fate.”
“No, it is not, private. The court will deal with them,” she replied in an authoritative voice that Isabella had last heard on their trip to Mt. Weather in the Spec.
The brig opened and the five men sitting on metal benches inside all stood, simultaneously, and while they could not snap a salute due to their cuffs, they did stand at attention. Daphne raised her gun at them and used its tip to wave them out the door and, to a man, they silently walked out of the brig and followed Isabella out of the military lock-up. It made sense for her to be up front because she did not have a weapon, but Isabella did not know where they were going inside the military complex. Daphne had instructed her to walk out the door, turn right, and then take the next left turn. After that, she would be lost.
Isabella did not breathe until after that turn, at which point she heard Daphne from behind, “Okay, stop here guys. Let’s get these cuffs off you.” She turned around to see all five men slump their shoulders, smiling in relief. Miller and Reynolds were instrumental in arranging the failed mission to release the clean-up crew, but the three young soldiers, privates Justin Bellows, Cliff Tallerman, and Dan Latham faced just as much punishment for going along.
Miller held out his hands to Daphne and said, “Get these damn things off me so I can hug you!” He laughed a short, quick chuckle and his eyes smiled as broadly as his face.
“Hugs later, you idiot,” replied Daphne and cut the plastic tie-strap cuffs off his wrist and the other four. “We need to get to the armory, get weapons, and get a move on.”
“What’s the mission, Corporal?” asked Reynolds. He was the same rank as Daphne, but he understood that she was in charge now. She had just earned a field promotion.
“Free all the prisoners on level ten. We will have assistance from untrained civilians, but we will need to arm them with all the weapons we can spirit away unnoticed. Let’s get to the armory!”
They might be her friends, but they were soldiers first and they instinctively snapped off salutes before walking toward the armory.
Isabella followed the group, behind Miller and quietly said to him, “You probably figured out I’m Isabella. Thank you for getting the vaccination to my family, and everything you did for them.”
Miller turned to look at her, never slowing his measured pace. “I failed to get them out.”
“Yeah, but you did everything you could, and for that, I am grateful.” Before he could respond, they reached the armory.
Daphne commanded, “Isabella, give Miller that stun gun and then stay out here. The rest of you are unarmed, and will just be targets. Miller and I will go inside and subdue the guards.” The soldiers nodded and Isabella handed the stunner over to Miller.
“Good luck.”
Daphne took the final printout of fake orders from her pocket and pasted a charming smile on her face, and she and Miller disappeared through the armory’s outer door.
The plan was to present the false document while they assessed how many guards were inside at that moment, and then while one keyed the orders into the computer to verify them – which would come up invalid – the other would stun the rest of the guards. Daphne would only use the real gun if she had no other choice. These soldiers were not her enemy. A week ago, some of them had been her close friends.
The door to the armory closed behind the pair and the rest waited. Less than two minutes later, it reopened and the four of them slipped inside the outer office. There were only two guards on duty and both were now lying on the floor.
Isabella pulled up short as she saw them, her eyes darting back to her friend. “Dead?”
Daphne shot her a quick grin. “No, just stunned. Let’s get a move on!” The seven of them walked down the short hall and stood in front of the armory’s inner door. Behind it was the arsenal.
“This better work,” muttered Daphne as she keyed in the code that Schmidt had given her. This lock would not open to a palm print. A quiet chime and a green indicator light signaled their success, and the door opened.
“Grab all the handguns you can stuff into your pockets, waistband, and strap to your shins under your pants. Don’t forget ammo. Everyone take one rifle and one stun gun. Isabella – get a bag from the locker and stuff in all the stunners that fit, plus one for yourself. We will be walking in unit formation through the city to join up with the others on level eight. We don’t want to look more suspicious than necessary in the process. Look alive people!”
The group was a flurry of activity for five minutes and then they were off to level eight. They would not take any public lifts but instead use the emergency stairway to drop one level to the elementary school.
Daphne said, “Isabella, send that message to Mathias now. Let the party begin!”
Mathias had given her a scrambled military radio and now she keyed the mic and said into it, “It’s party time.” Her voice quavered as adrenaline coursed through her body. This is really happening.
A moment later, Mathias’ voice crackled from the speaker. “Roger. Invites going out now. See you soon.”
The group of seven left the armory and marched like any other unit – with purpose and a destination. As long as no one recognized any of them, they would walk out of the armory, cross the military complex, and leave by the level seven entrance in the southwest tunnel. Their luck held and they worked their way to “C” ring, past the elevators and through a narrow doorway leading to a disused staircase just past the middle school’s entrance. Isabella heaved a sigh of relief as they descended to level eight and emerged into the wide hallway.
Many people were walking that hallway – or Avenue C as the locals called it – and they merged with the foot traffic, all heading to the school. The protesters were trickling back; not all of them had returned, but more than Isabella had hoped for. They collected in groups in the school’s gathering room, freedom fighters, armed with whatever weapons they had. All were younger than 30, with two notable exceptions. Teagan stood with Luke and Hayden, and surprisingly, her parents stood beside them. Isabella waved.
Teagan flashed her a smile, and the girl’s mother winked conspiratorially at Isabella. She had known those people were rebels at heart!
Isabella gave Luke the eye and stuck her fingers in her ears. He knew what to do. Once again, Luke positioned his thumb and index finger in his mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle that got the crowd’s attention.
Isabella climbed on top of a desk, maximizing her full five feet, four inches of height, and began. “We have had en
ough of President Harrison’s lies. Enough of his draconian spying tactics. Enough of him capturing and killing those from Outside!”
The crowd grumbled as one.
“We want our government back. We want our privacy back. We want freedom from tyranny! We want freedom for all, including the mutants. We can’t flourish while they starve. We can’t be free while they are slaves.”
The crowd cheered and pumped fists into the air. She continued, repeating something that had worked before. “Like President Kennedy once said, our goal is not victory of might but the vindication of right. That’s what we will do today. We will free the prisoners on level ten and gain the right for ALL to be free!”
The crowd was smaller this time, but they roared in a single voice, louder than early today. “Free the mutants! Free the mutants!”
Mathias joined her on top of the desk and she stepped down to yield the room. He stood with legs apart, tall and imposing, every inch a leader. His dark gray eyes seemed able to make contact with every person in the room simultaneously.
“We will do what is right for everyone, and that means break the shackles that bind those below. Lots of you have brought your own weapons…” The crowd voiced their confirmation in loud whoops. “And we’ve got more here. We aren’t alone in this fight! Many in the military have joined the cause. To prove it, we’ve got six brave fighters right here who are going to lead this charge today.”
All eyes turned to Daphne Noble, Miller, Reynolds, and the other three soldiers from the brig, all holding weapons.
“They will issue you weapons; handguns, rifles, and stun guns, along with ammo. Line up and get your weapons from them. If you’ve never used a handgun, take a rifle. They are easier to aim. Everyone gets a stun gun. We have enough to go around. They are non-lethal and your first option, at all times. Remember, we are outgunned five, maybe ten to one. We are amateurs fighting professional soldiers.”