Into the Yellow Zone

by Lynda Engler

  “We’ve come here to help you, sir,” said Isabella, finally finding her voice.

  “Help me?” laughed the old man. “What do you know of me and how could a bunch of kids help?”

  Other than Isabella, none of them had ever seen an old person and even though they had expected to meet this one, actually seeing the wrinkled, stooped scientist was a shock. Andra’s reaction could probably be attributed more to the fear of the unknown – his advanced age – than anything the man had said or done.

  Malcolm took a step forward and said, “No disrespect, sir, but we’re not children. I’m a tribal leader, a father, and a husband. And we have traveled through dangerous lands to find you.”

  The old man shrugged, a half-smile on his face. “Why?”

  As though speaking with one mind, Isabella and Malcolm alternated in speaking to the old man. It was Isabella who replied first. “A Wiccan priestess from a village not that far from here, has been having visions about you. She saw you in your laboratory working on something important so we came to find you.” She twirled the lock of her hair unconsciously as she looked around the laboratory and studied the old man.

  “Visions, ha! Children playing at being adults, wandering around following a hallucination.” Dr. Rosario frowned, shaking his head, but then he brightened and his mood changed so quickly that Isabella thought he seemed like an excited little kid. “But as long as you’re here, would you like to know what I’m working on? I’ve missed human contact since my last coworker died.”

  “We know what you’re working on,” admitted Malcolm, examining the laboratory bench.

  “Really?” answered the old scientist with a little laugh. “Tell me what your priestess prophesized.”

  “She isn’t our priestess but I’d be happy to tell you what she saw.” Isabella recited Araddea’s vision, expanding the tale to add their own assumption about his research. “Araddea has the ability to send her spirit soaring on the wings of an eagle, and through this vision she saw an old man in a white coat, working with liquids, pouring them in and out of glass tubes. She had the vision many times. Each time she felt your emotions and knew you were angry and frustrated, yet doing something very important. Her vision showed you in a big building with a blue sign, just before a wide river. We followed her instructions and found you. Malcolm and I think you are trying to find a way to inoculate people from getting poisoned.”

  Dr. Rosario remained silent.

  “Are we right?” Isabella pressed on. She dropped the lock of brown hair she had been twirling – a nervous habit of hers as long as she could remember – and let her arms relax at her sides.

  “Oddly… yes,” confirmed the scientist. “Perhaps I have underestimated the mutants. Your oracle seems accurate. I’ve obviously been holed up in my shelter far too long.” He sat down on a high stool with an audible thud. His feeble body drooped even more as he hunched over the lab bench. Isabella thought he was going to cry, but did not understand why. They brought him good news, didn’t they?

  Araddea had warned that he might be crazy. What if she was right? Tentatively and gently, she probed him for more information, suddenly nervous that if the old man really was mad and she pushed too hard, she could send him over the edge. “We can help you, if you tell us what to do.”

  The wizened old scientist stared intently at nothing in particular, his eyes too big and too wide. Finally, they came to focus on Isabella.

  “Fifty years!” he shouted. “Fifty years I’ve been in here working on a way to get the families out of the shelters safely. And here you are, mutants, surviving quite well on your own. You don’t need me – you’ve done fine without me. What good am I? All I’ve done is hide in here my whole life.”

  “I’m from a shelter,” said Isabella. “And these mutants as you call them aren’t fine. They only live about twenty years. Their bodies – mine too – are being poisoned by the chemicals Outside. They do need your help. We all do. Please, tell us how we can help you!” She put a hand on his shoulder and held it there.

  The old man sat with his head in his hands for a long time, sobbing quietly, then became silent. He remained still for so long Isabella feared he had fallen asleep, like her grandfather in his easy chair.

  Suddenly, the man jumped from the stool and launched into a manic recital. “I’ve worked for this pharmaceutical company for 50 of my 72 years. I was something of a prodigy when I was young, graduating from high school at sixteen, then finishing college and getting my PhD in only six years. So it’s no wonder Le Rochėr hired me to work in the lab at twenty-two. And then the war hit, and I was trapped here. Since then I’ve devoted my life to this work, slaving away in this metal and glass prison, researching an inoculation to the dreadful state this world has become. If only people could go Outside and not be poisoned! Moreover, I’ve gotten pretty far in my research. I was so close – so close! – to finding a cure.” He paused, took a breath, and then finished. “But then I ran out of cats.”

  “Cats?” the group asked in six-part harmony.

  “Cats!” affirmed the scientist. “Cats have not mutated – the secret is in their genes. I was using gene therapy – site-directed mutagenesis to be precise – to identify the mutations that knocked out healthy genes and then use the SDM to restore the original gene code and rescue the mutant DNA, returning it to normal. I was so close!”

  Seeing the confused looks on the faces of her family, Isabella tried to explain what the old man said, as best she understood it. “I think he means that something about the genes of cats kept them from mutating and he’s not only found out what that is, but figured out how to use that to change the genes of people.”

  “So you let us in here because of Pumpkin?” asked Andra, peering out from behind Isabella’s legs where she was still hiding.

  “Yes. When you picked up that orange ball of fur, I knew I had to let you in, against my better judgment. Even with the airlock, I’m sure you’ve brought in contaminants,” he said with consternation.

  Isabella could not restrain herself and laughed. “Are you kidding? By the time anything Outside could poison you, you’d be dead of old age anyway. How could you possibly be worried?”

  “Aren’t you? You left the safety of your shelter to run around in poison. Why?”

  Should she trust him? Could she tell him about the government’s plan? Did he already know? Her only reply was another question. “When was the last time you communicated with anyone Outside?”

  “It’s been almost three years,” he admitted, sitting back down on the tall stool next to his workbench. “For a long while, the government sent us supplies and research equipment and animals for testing, but since Ed died, three years ago, they stopped. I buried Ed in a field a mile away. After he was gone, I was alone. There used to be a dozen of us, but I outlived them all. My efforts to contact others on the radio since then went unanswered,” he explained.

  “They abandoned you?” asked Malcolm, looking at the old man with sadness.

  He nodded his head. “I don’t think they thought I was worth the effort. I read Ed’s notes after he died. The man was a self-serving glory hound. He never mentioned anyone else’s work. I’m sure his reports to the government research agency indicated he was solely responsible for Le Rochér’s research. All my progress with site-directed mutagenesis has taken place since he died. Do you see why I need your cat? I’m so close to a breakthrough!” He was pleading with Andra now.

  “Are you going to kill him?” she asked, clutching the mewling ball of fur.

  The scientist shook his head. “I can’t afford to. I need him alive to do my tests. I’m much too old to go Outside and catch my own cats. I’ll take care of him, I promise.”

  He knelt down next to Andra again, tentatively reaching for the animal, and she let him pet the cat this time. Pumpkin began to purr in response. “He’ll be safe here.”

  Isabella stepped forward. “Girls, can I speak to Dr. Rosario alone, please?” She took the ol
d man by the elbow and ushered him to the far side of the lab.

  “You really won’t hurt the cat?” she asked softly.

  “Depends on how you define ‘hurt.’ I will inject him with concentrated environmental poisons and then attempt to reverse the effect with SDM. Some of this may pain the animal, but I will not intentionally injure the creature. Besides, aren’t your lives worth his?”

  “Not to Andra,” said Isabella. “She’s too young to understand.”

  He nodded. “I see. But you’ll give me the cat? It’s very important. You understand that, don’t you?”

  She nodded her head and they rejoined the group.

  “Doctor, if you find an inoculation for the shelter folk, do you deem it’d also help us mutants live longer?” asked Malcolm. He gave Shia’s little hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Yes, it certainly would. In addition, I might even be able to reverse some of the more detrimental mutations, like those that cause immune deficiency or pass along serious birth defects to unborn children. But I doubt we could do anything about your friend’s webbed digits,” he chuckled, looking at Clay’s hands, and then shifting his gaze down to his bare feet.

  The boy glanced at his fingers and grinned. “That’s okay. I like my webs. I’m a great swimmer, you know.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” said Dr. Rosario with a slight smile.

  Isabella’s trust in the old man was growing quickly, now that she saw he was not actually crazy; just very determined, as they had thought. “Doctor, earlier you asked why I was traveling with mutants.” The old man nodded for her to continue. “First, I would prefer if you referred to my family as the new humans. Like Clay’s fingers, not all mutations are bad. Calling them mutants is offensive.”

  “Interesting term. Perhaps it is apt. Go on. Why did you leave the safety of your shelter?” The old scientist scratched at his stubbly chin with frail, gnarled fingers. They were long and thin, with age spots like her grandmother’s and his skin held the same pallor that all shelter folk had.

  “My grandfather is convinced that once the shelter folk can come Outside safely, the government will exterminate the new humans. I can’t let that happen, so I have chosen to spread the word of this eventuality to as many people Outside as I can. Malcolm and his tribe offered to help.”

  “And what exactly are the mutants, excuse me – your new humans – supposed to do to protect themselves if the government does try to wipe them off the face of the Earth?” asked Dr. Rosario, wrinkling his brow in consternation.

  “So you’re not arguing that they’ll actually do that?” asked Isabella. She had just assumed the doctor would not believe her claim.

  “Oh, I’m sure if they try it, there is no reason they could not achieve such an objective. However, I do not see the profit in your mission. Warning them will not make any difference. But, that is not my business.” He waved away those thoughts as inconsequential. “You choose your own path, as I have chosen mine. With your charity, and perhaps with the providence that brought you to me, I will continue and perhaps I may even succeed. And I do fully intend to complete my research in the remaining years of my life,” said the old man.

  His single-minded determination impressed Isabella.

  “Well,” said Malcolm, “if you do find the cure, then Isabella’s goal is that much more urgent, sir. You’ll bring the shelter folk Outside many years sooner than we counted on. If she’s right and your government really does want to kill all of us, they’ll do it soon.”

  “Yes, you may have a point there, boy,” agreed the old scientist. “If you insist on this preposterous mission of yours, then I suggest you go north, up this side of the Hudson River. There is a boat museum near the George Washington bridge where you might find a small boat to help you find some other mutant tribes and communities. You can give them your warning. Perhaps you might do some good after all.”

  * * *

  Luke

  A second fork loomed in the road forcing yet another decision on Luke. Once again, there were no telltale signs of which way he should go. The right fork had less broken pavement and a faded white line was just barely visible down the middle. The dense weeds along the left fork would make it much harder to travel.

  He looked at the overgrown section of road and saw no sign that anyone had walked there recently. Perhaps Isabella’s group had chosen the easier road, but Luke could not confirm that with any clear-cut evidence. His precious illustrated guide to the Outside world was no help, either. Finding the intersection on his road map only showed him that the roads were equal size and both would eventually lead him to the Hudson River, which separated New Jersey from New York. Both led into the deadly Yellow Zone.

  “Geez, Izz, just for once I hope you did things the easy way,” grumbled Luke under his breath and headed down the right side of the fork. He tucked his prized-though-sometimes-useless map into the outer pocket of his backpack as he limped down the weed-infested highway.

  Something growled off the road and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and he picked up his pace.

  Chapter Eight

  Isabella

  Dr. Rosario’s research lab was the only part of the Le Rochér building shielded from the radiation, chemical and biological poisons that held sway over the world. The six travelers could have crowded into the lab overnight, but they decided to find quarters elsewhere within the six-story building instead. Dusty offices crowded with desks and chairs occupied every floor of the building, with barely any room for themselves. They finally found enough space to roll out their sleeping bags in a large, empty room on the third floor. A small plastic placard on the wall outside the room read “Exercise Room.” The mirror-covered back wall made the whole group, including Isabella, feel weird.

  The exercise room had both a men’s and women’s locker room, and Dr. Rosario had cut the locks off each locker years ago. He told them that he had scoured the building for anything he could use to survive. Most of the lockers only contained gym clothes, but luckily for their group, those clothes included a few pairs of sneakers.

  Clay radiated joy. “I found two pairs that fit me!” He put on a pair of gym socks and gray sneakers and stashed the extra pair in his pack. “You never know when you need an extra pair of shoes.”

  “This carpet is almost as hard as the earth outside the mall,” complained Isabella, rolling out sleeping bags on the floor.

  “True,” said Kalla, “but at least it’s dry.” She was lying on her own sleeping bag, already spread out in a corner of the room. The younger girl exhaled loudly. “And it feels soooooo good to lie down.”

  Malcolm nodded, sympathizing with Kalla’s exhaustion. “And it’s safe. We won’t need to set watch duty tonight. Nothing can get into the locked building unless the old scientist lets it in.”

  While the little girls played and Kalla and Clay spent some time relaxing, Malcolm asked Isabella to practice with the bow and arrows in the hallways. He set up a target at the end of the hall and with singular dedication, she shot arrow after arrow, leaving many holes in the sheet rock, but getting more into the target than she had last time she practiced. Little by little, Isabella was acquiring shooting skills. Half an hour was still her limit before her arm muscles ached and she had to quit.

  Dr. Rosario’s generator-powered electricity was limited to the ground floor, so they ate their dinner cold. Smoke from a cooking fire would have been dangerous in an office building. The group partook of the fresh vegetables and fruits along with smoked meats and soft bread they had brought from Telemark. It was not a bad dinner.

  Isabella entertained the group for a while with her harmonica and soon the little girls settled down for the night. As usual, Shia fell asleep instantly. Isabella could hear Andra’s sobs through her sleeping bag as she cried herself to sleep without Pumpkin.

  Using one of her two paperback novels, Isabella worked on reading skills with Malcolm, Kalla, and Clay. They all wanted to learn, but they were so tired and gave up a
fter only a short while. They fell into as deep a slumber as the children. It was the first night since leaving Telemark that Isabella slept without a worry in the world.

  In the morning, they ate bread with sliced green peppers, cucumbers and smoked meat, before packing up their belongings.

  Fed and rested, they passed through the airlock entrance to the lab once again, but this time no one was worried. They knew what awaited them on the other side. Andra – eager to see Pumpkin again – was the first one into the airlock chamber.

  Once through the airlock cycle, they entered the decontamination shower area. This time they skipped the shower, since the old doctor had informed them the chemical wash was long gone; these days the shower only dispensed purified water. The only thing that killed contamination from Outside now was the blue light in the airlock. The group made good use of the toilets and sinks, though. Running water was an almost unheard of luxury Outside. Then Dr. Rosario admitted them into his lab.

  The cat was twining itself between his legs, rubbing his body along the old man’s leg.

  “Pumpkin!” shouted Andra as she scooped up the cat. She looked him over with exacting care. “He looks fine,” she said, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes.

  “Of course he is. I promised you I would take care of him, didn’t I?” asked Dr. Rosario. “So, are you headed out then?”

  They all nodded.

  “We just wanted to say goodbye,” said Isabella. “And ask if you want us to find you any more cats. It might help your research.”

  “No,” replied the old scientist. “Have you ever tried to catch a wild cat? It would take too long and interrupt your mission. Anyway, I am so close to finding the answer at this point that I believe the one cat here will suffice.”

  The man then shook each of their hands and hugged the little girls. “Take care of yourselves,” he said. It must have been years since Dr. Rosario had had any physical contact with anyone, and even though Isabella felt that he was not a soppy kind of emotional man, the simple act of hugging a small child had obviously done him a world of good. His smile fairly lit up the laboratory.