by Lynda Engler
Kalla taught Isabella which berries were edible and which were not. The dark purple berries with the many lobes were blackberries and although they were not always that sweet, they were safe. Blueberries were all right to pick as well, but the red berries hanging from the short trees were poisonous to humans. Strawberries were harder to find because they were low to the ground and often the animals had already picked the vines clean of them, but the little girls found a small patch and gathered them up.
Something fell from a tree and hit Isabella on the head. She yipped in pain, and then shook the tree in frustration and anger. “Stupid tree.”
Another nut fell to her feet. She rubbed her head and smiled, looking up at the happy accident.
“Hey, girls, watch this!”
Isabella shook the tree, loosening walnuts higher up the branches where they could not reach. Andra and Shia giggled as they scooped up the fallen bounty and added them to their basket.
As Malcolm pounded the last tent stake into the yielding earth, Reed returned with a basket of the day’s fresh catch. “Here, have these. We caught a lot today and it’ll go to waste if it’s not eaten.”
So much for electricity or refrigeration, thought Isabella. Telemark had solar power that gave them limited electricity, but at least enough for basics like refrigeration. That was the exception, rather than the norm Outside. This tribe was primitive, almost at a hunter-gatherer level. She was not sure what, if anything, they could do to protect themselves against a military assault. It might not even be worth warning them. Why scare them?
“Thanks,” said Malcolm, taking the gift with appreciation. “Eat with us?”
“Sure,” replied Reed, sitting down next to the fire. A rough cloth bag hung at his side and he opened it to reveal red apples. He handed one each to Malcolm and Clay, then held out four more in his palms for the girls to take.
“Thank you,” said Andra and Shia in unison. Isabella and Kalla both smiled at the skinny boy who looked like an old man before biting into their apples. The red apples were crisp and crunchy and when Isabella bit into its yellow flesh, sweet juice ran down her chin. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.
Reed pulled a large knife from a sheath at his side and began cleaning scales from one of the trout. “Why are you traveling upstream anyway?” He directed his question to Malcolm.
Following the strategy that had worked well for them at Alpine, Malcolm did not get to the heart of their reason right away. “Exploring; seeing what’s out there. We’re also looking for trading partners for the people at Telemark. Are you interested? They might like to trade you for fish. I’m sure there are things you could use.”
Reed looked up at Malcolm standing near him and said, “We do quite well with what we have. We aren’t interested in returning to the ways of those who came before.” He turned his eyes back to the fish and resumed scraping scales off. They flew everywhere.
Malcolm finished his apple, threw the core into the trees, and sat down next to Reed. He took a fish and began cleaning it with his own knife.
Isabella still held the basket of berries and listened to her husband and the wrinkled boy as they cleaned the fish. She sat down on a boulder next to Malcolm. “Those who came before?”
“Before the wars,” said Reed. “We choose to live in a primitive state but we know what the world used to be. We will never allow ourselves to return to the malicious ways of our ancestors. We are not Jet Believers! We live in harmony with nature and do not long for the dead world.”
Isabella remembered the people who lived inside the ancient jet planes sitting useless on the tarmac at Newark airport. They believed that someday the old technology would come back, and those planes would fly again and the world would go back to what it was before. They were a cult, a religion, a belief system that the new humans generally did not share. Although some shelter folk, like her grandfather, could certainly be considered Jet Believers. The fact that Reed’s people, this far north of Newark, even knew about Jet Believers, made her marvel.
“Not even electricity or refrigeration?” asked Isabella.
“The people of the Valley are at peace with the Earth. We use the cold springs that flow beneath the ground to keep food supplies cold during the warm months. We build shelters and fires to keep us warm and dry during the winter. But that is the extent that we wish to change the planet to suit ourselves.” The boy resumed scrapping scales, put the fish down, and took another fish from his wicker basket. As he began cleaning the scales off the second trout, he looked at Malcolm and said, “Changing the world for their own use didn’t do our ancestors any good. It broke the people into pieces and the pieces fought each other. The pieces broke the world.”
Isabella could not have put it better herself. “I feel I should apologize, Reed; I’ve misjudged your people. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I assumed you were primitive and lacked intelligence. I see now that I was wrong. You are well-spoken and obviously have wisdom of the world. Your intelligence allows you to choose the way you live. Yet you choose a primitive lifestyle. Maybe you are smarter than the rest of us.”
“I’m sorry too,” added Malcolm. His eyes told Isabella that he had thought pretty much the same thing about the Valley’s people.
Clay nodded his head in agreement. “We’ve all made some assumptions we shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t worry about it. You aren’t the first travelers to come through here and deem us savages. Honestly, the people of the Valley don’t mind if you deem that. We like to portray ourselves that way; it keeps outsiders away.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” said Malcolm. As he scrapped scales off the trout in his hand, a scale hit one of the fire pit rocks and made a PING! sound.
Isabella could see in Reed’s eyes that this could be the right time to tell the people of the Valley the rest of their story. Up until now, she wasn’t sure if they should bother, but now she believed they should at least know. What they would do with the knowledge was up to them. She took a deep breath and began. “And the time is right to be completely honest with you. There is another reason why we are traveling far from home before winter. We have information we need to share with you.”
She nodded at her husband and he took up their tale, repeating the same story they had told Diane just a day earlier.
“We’ll fight them.” Reed pumped a tight fist in the air. “I guarantee we’re better trained than anyone else around here is! They won’t exterminate us easily. Besides, they have to find us first.” Reed smiled slyly.
“We found you easily enough…” interjected Clay.
“Did you?” Reed raised his eyebrows. “We wanted you to. But if we don’t want to be found, believe me: we can become invisible.”
Isabella did not doubt him for a minute.
“How did you know we were coming?” asked Kalla.
The boy turned to her and replied, “Sound carries over the water. You weren’t exactly quiet.”
By the time they had cleaned the fish, the fire was ready. The fish cooked quickly, which suited Isabella because the apple had only made her hungrier. Although the food did not have any added spices like she was used to at home, the pan fried fish had a delicious unique, smoky flavor of its own. The berries they had gathered completed their meal. Isabella had not had berries in her shelter and she much preferred blackberries to Brussels Sprouts any day! She had enough of those nasty things in her shelter all her life. However, she did not care for the walnuts because they made her tongue feel fuzzy; but the little girls both loved them, and they had fun picking the meat from the shells once Clay and Malcolm broke them open between two rocks.
Licking his fingers after finishing the meal, Malcolm asked Reed where his home was.
“I live in a cabin just the other side of this lake. I have a mate and three healthy children.”
“Three! Seriously?” asked Malcolm. “You are a lucky man. My first mate and I had three, but only Shia survived.” Shia smiled from across the campfire.
“Andra is adopted.”
Reed seemed to consider this and smiled knowingly. Like everyone Outside, he knew most babies died before the age of three, and the look on his face was consoling when he looked at Isabella. “I’m sorry none of your children have lived. But Malcolm is lucky to have you as his mate. The little girls seem to love you very much, even if you aren’t their original mother.”
Isabella smiled but corrected his error. His assumption made sense, though it was not even close to correct. “Thank you Reed. I enjoy being mother to these two wonderful little girls. But I haven’t lost any children of my own because I haven’t had any.”
Continuing to misunderstand, Reed replied, “I’m sorry you aren’t able to have children, Isabella. My sister also could never have any.” His eyes were full of genuine sorrow.
Isabella tried once again to explain. “No, you misunderstand. I’m not sterile. At least not as far as I know. I’ve never had children because I’ve never wanted any yet. My people don’t marry until they are at least eighteen.” All Isabella could see in the waning light was Reed’s vacant stare. He still did not seem to understand.
“I’m from a shelter,” she clarified.
His mouth dropped open and he did not seem to be able to reply, so Isabella continued and told him her story. How Malcolm’s tribe had settled on top of her family’s underground shelter. How she snuck out and spent night after night for weeks with Malcolm getting to know him. How she had fallen in love – and most importantly – how her grandfather hated mutants and would not allow them to stay.
“And that’s when I left forever. I couldn’t lose the man I loved.”
Reed had finally found his tongue. “And since then you’ve wandered around warning mutants about the government coming to kill us in fifty years? Is this how you want to spend your life? Wouldn’t you rather settle down somewhere and have children? You could stay here if you want.”
Isabella fidgeted on the rock she sat on as she replied. “Thank you Reed. It’s a generous offer, and maybe someday – someday soon! – we will do that, but right now, we have a mission to complete. Up until I had Andra and Shia to take care of, I had not even thought of being a mother! In my world…” she trailed off.
Reed smiled – perhaps a bit disappointed – but seemed to understand. “It is admirable of you to go warning people. Not everybody is as prepared as we are.” His face brightened suddenly. “Why don’t you come back to my house and meet my family tonight? We don’t have room for you to sleep, so I deem you’ll be more comfortable in your tents, but I’m sure my mate and children will be happy to meet a shelter girl. And the rest of you of course! We’ve never met a shelter person before.”
The group unanimously agreed to meet his family. They followed Reed to his home, where he introduced his wife, Summer – a quiet girl with a newborn at her breast – and one- and two-year-old children playing on the floor at her feet. All were blond, all girls. The infant did not have any fingers and used her palms to hold Summer’s breast as she suckled. The other two little girls crawled around on the floor of the small house playing with small rocks they rolled around a wooden box. Isabella could not figure out the purpose of their game but the children seemed to be enjoying it. Shia and Andra joined them and soon were giggling with excitement.
The house was small. There was a sleeping mat in one corner with a straw mattress and blankets for the two children and an identical one in the other corner for Reed, Summer, and the infant. The house was full of stuff: wooden table and chairs, a washbasin, pictures on the walls, even curtains.
“Everything we have is of the Earth. Our clothes, our food, our furniture,” said Reed. “We take nothing that the Earth doesn’t give freely. We hurt no one and take nothing. It’s a simple lifestyle, but it works for us.”
Isabella enjoyed the evening with Reed and Summer and hours later when they returned to their tents, she fell asleep knowing that this scattered community would go on prospering and living freely, hidden from the humans, hopefully for a long, long time. Their warning might not have been necessary at all, but she was still glad they had delivered their message. In the morning, they would continue their journey up the Hudson River meeting other mutant tribes. She felt good about her mission and fell asleep in Malcolm’s arms, smiling and content.
Chapter Fifteen
Isabella
“Stony Point is dangerous. No one ever comes back from there. You shouldn’t go up there,” advised Reed once again, standing next to the visitor’s rowboat. He caressed the little craft, his wrinkled hand a sharp contrast to the smooth wood. “Especially in this slow thing. You couldn’t outrun a snail in it!”
“Don’t worry – if we see any danger, we’ll head back. Whatever is up there can’t be that bad, especially now that you warned us of the danger. We will be very careful. Thanks for your help and friendship,” said Malcolm.
Reed nodded, then helped them cast off, the modest boat loaded with fish, fruits, and walnuts for their journey. The new-risen sun glistened on the river’s surface.
Out far enough from the shore to avoid sand bars but not into the middle of the river, Clay turned the small craft upstream. “How far do you want to go, Malcolm?” he asked as he rowed. Clay had really taken to rowing and had quickly become skilled at the art. He seemed to genuinely like it, unlike the rest of them that felt it was tedious but necessary work. Even Malcolm was glad that Clay volunteered to row as often as he did.
“Not far. I just want to see what’s past the Point. If it’s bad tides or treacherous rocks or anything else dangerous, we’ll turn back. Reed was right – no point in getting ourselves into anything we can’t get out of.” He studied his wife then smiled. “There might be tribes up there. They need to be warned too.”
Isabella gazed into the green eyes she loved so much. He ventured into dangerous territory with just one reason – her goal of warning the world, her dreams, her desires. She loved him more and more every minute she spent with him. “Thank you, Malcolm,” she whispered. Isabella’s eyes searched the water ahead for riptides or anything she thought could be treacherous. Kalla and Malcolm did the same, their heads turning to scan both shores for signs of danger. Even the little girls ceased their chatter, listening for odd sounds or indications of human life.
Ten minutes, twenty, half an hour passed as Clay rowed north in the idyllically calm river. The Point loomed ahead – a spit of land that jutted into the Hudson, narrowing the passage through the rocky cliffs like a funnel. The current got rougher as they neared it. Water poured downstream as it slithered through the gap, Clay fighting the current the entire way.
Malcolm placed his hands on the oars as he sat facing Clay, their combined muscle working to power the rowboat through the ever-increasing tidal forces of the swift water. They struggled to keep the boat moving as they worked their way into the treacherous passage. Isabella wanted to help, but with only two oars and four hands on it already, there was no way she could contribute. She felt helpless.
Once again, they were in danger, possibly mortal danger, and it was because of her tenacity. Perhaps her grandfather had been right when he said she had a kind heart but that it led her head. If they got through this, never again would she let her heart think for her! “Come on! Pull harder!” she screamed, offering encouragement when she could offer nothing else.
Kalla added her voice, the girls providing moral support to the rowers. As they edged through the passage, the mad rush of water died away and the little craft laid placidly on the surface once more.
“We did it!” yelled Clay, finding his voice for the first time since they began the upstream attack on Stony Point. Isabella always forgot he and Kalla were only eleven, until childhood glee emerged from one of them.
* * *
Luke
The air rushed past Luke’s head, making his hair look more disheveled than the photo of Albert Einstein in one of his grandmother’s history books. Dr. Rosario’s long gray hair flailed worse than
Luke’s did, forcing the old man to finally restrain it with an elastic band from his pocket. The sailboat tacked east, then west, fighting the wind the whole way, but achieving a speed of at least two or three knots as their course progressed upriver.
“We should be able to cover four or five leagues a day if the wind keeps up,” said Dr. Rosario, hoisting the repaired mainsail as he spoke.
“Wanna’ put that in language I understand, Doc? How far is a league?”
“One league is roughly equivalent to 3.452 miles. So we might get thirteen to eighteen miles up the river today.”
“Roughly 3.452 miles, huh?” The old man’s method of “estimation” made Luke laugh.
If they could get fifteen or so miles up the river from the museum, they would certainly catch up to his sister and her group in a matter of days. The big question was, where did they stop and would Luke be able to spot them? It was equally likely that they would sail past Isabella’s group and never find them.
Dr. Rosario broke Luke’s reverie. “Eddies and currents in rivers like this can be of tremendous help to sailors. Look out for bands of foam or changes in watercolor. They mark tide lines. And keep an eye on the sky too. Never stop looking around.”
“Aye, aye Captain,” said Luke and saluted. Then he lost his footing as the small yacht angled sideways in the wind and he almost fell off the deck.
“Smooth move, boy,” Dr. Rosario grinned.
“Yeah,” said Luke, grabbing a rail and steadying himself. “I’m not planning on doing that again.”
Midway through a downwind gibe, the scientist moved the sails from one side of the boat to the other. Luke had not mastered this tricky maneuver yet, but the old man was obviously an experienced sailor. He swung the spinnaker and its pole from one side of the mast to the other while keeping it full and drawing, the sailboat catching a back eddy and doubling its speed.
Luke held on as the captain took the boat across the river, away from the cliff-lined shore on the western side. Even the cat had found itself a safe place to hide in the cabin below.