Under the Mountain: A POST APOCALYPTIC NOVEL (Into the Outside Book 3)

by Lynda Engler

  Isabella squatted down in the water until it reached her neck. A cacophony of voices and splashes greeted her ears from children swimming nearby, happily playing, and giggling. She watched them, her heart aching for her own adopted daughters, and the man she loved. It still amazed her that she had come to so totally adore those little girls and to fall so thoroughly and quickly in love as she did.

  Daphne swam under the water like a dolphin and came up next to Isabella, her short hair dripping lake water onto her round face, which she casually wiped away. Daphne’s smile stretched to her blue eyes, which matched the small flower-shaped earrings she never took off.

  “It’s nice to see you smile,” said Isabella.

  “Why? Don’t I smile?” asked Daphne.

  Isabella considered her new friend. “The first time I saw you in the HSPC, I thought you could be pretty if you simply smiled more. So, no, you don’t smile enough. It’s good to see it!”

  “I’m not sure if I should be offended or flattered,” Daphne kidded her, then playfully splashed water on her.

  “Hey!” laughed Isabella, rubbing water off her face.

  “You were my prisoner the first time we met, so the fact that you thought anything about me at all, surprises me. So, thanks, I guess.” Daphne turned and swam leisurely away from Isabella, her agile form easily propelling her with organic fluidity, stroke after stroke. She turned and swam back once again, rhythmic and effortless.

  Isabella tried floating in the water, rolling onto her back and letting her feet slowly rise to the water’s surface. She did not know how to swim, so she was not surprised when her head started to sink beneath the surface. She hurriedly put her feet back on the sandy bottom of the lake, stood up, and chuckled. “Guess that’s not going to work.”

  Daphne said, “You don’t know how to swim, do you?”

  Isabella shook her head, her lips pursed as if she had been chewing a lemon rind. “Considering where I grew up, what do you think, Captain Obvious?”

  Daphne affected faux dejection and replied, huffily, “That’s Corporal Obvious to you!” Both girls laughed. Isabella was overjoyed to have a friend to kid around with.

  “I can teach you, it’s really not that hard. So first, when you try that floating thing next time, stretch out your arms, flatten your palms with your fingers closed, and wiggle your hands under the water, like this.” Daphne pantomimed her hands bending and flapping like a fish wiggling its fins. “That will help hold you up.”

  Isabella tried it and was able to keep herself afloat for a few seconds, but then started to sink like a stone again. She flapped her hands back and forth faster, exhaustion overtaking her from the effort. “Hard work,” she huffed.

  Daphne snorted. “It’s not supposed to be if you do it right. Well, not everyone is good at floating. Let’s try treading water. Watch me. I’m going to make like I’m riding a bike under the water. Can you see my legs?”

  The water was not as translucent as her grandfather’s pool but she could see through it to Daphne’s legs. She knew about bike riding from the excercycle in her family’s underground shelter. She had used that bike almost every day of her life, so the motion came easily to her. Daphne told her to add the hand motion to it, and soon Isabella was easily floating in the water, bobbing up and down, no longer sinking.

  “There you go!” announced her friend. “Now you can start to swim a few strokes.”

  Daphne stood waist-deep in the water and showed Isabella how she should move her arms for the breaststroke. Then she showed her how her legs should move, froglike, and then finally how to put them all together. She stood next to Isabella and supported her waist as Isabella laid flat on the water, practicing stationary arm and leg movements. Eventually, Daphne let go and Isabella tried it on her own. Every few strokes, she started to sink, and clawed her way back to the surface to try again.

  It did not take long for Isabella to be completed exhausted and the girls withdrew to the beach, sitting on towels in the sand. Isabella was happy for the distraction her new friend provided from her never-ending worry and sadness. She missed Malcolm and constantly worried that Daphne’s military friends would not be able to save him and the rest of their family and friends from becoming test subjects for Dr. Rosario’s vaccine. So far, her family had been spared. Not only were hidden military supporters of Social Dissonance doing their part, but Dr. Rosario himself had made it known that he did not want more test subjects unless his team was allowed to test humanly.

  “You look good in a bathing suit, with your tan from Outside,” said Daphne, and Isabella gave her a strange sideways look. “I don’t mean it that way, stupid. I like guys, not girls. Just meant you have coloring that most people here don’t have. It’s attractive. Kind of exotic.”

  “Well, thanks. I guess. I didn’t always, you know.” Isabella enjoyed spending time with Daphne and was thankful she had met her. Without Daphne, Isabella might still be down in level ten, in the dungeon, a prisoner like the new humans. Without Daphne to get her out, she would not have had the opportunity to help save the rest of them. She would never have met Luke’s new friends and informed them of the conditions in the dungeon and they would not be working now to change the world on such a large scale. She had a lot to be thankful for.

  Daphne was 21, just over four years older than Isabella, who would be turning seventeen in less than two weeks. Back at home in her shelter, her family had celebrated each person’s birthday with a song, a special meal, and a candle that they blew out while making a wish. The only wish she had for her birthday this year was that she would be with Malcolm and the girls again.

  * * *

  Malcolm

  They came to take prisoners for experimentation again that morning. Malcolm and Clay stayed nearby each other, knowing either or both of them might be picked, and were relieved when only one person from their cell was selected, a boy who had been picked up with his tribe on the outskirts of Albany.

  They had also gained a protector. The older man, Jarrick, had seniority in their cell, having been there longer than any of them, and had become friendly toward them since breaking down and telling Malcolm his story. He made sure that Malcolm and Clay got food before the others, and generally watched over his new friends. However, when the young boy, only nine years old, had been pulled out of their cell, kicking and screaming, Jarrick stood by and did nothing. What could he do? thought Malcolm. If the soldiers did not take that boy, they would just take another. Still, Malcolm was grateful that Jarrick was on their side.

  The prison communication system of passing messages from one cell to the next let him know that Kalla, Shia, and Andra had also been left out of the test subject selection process. Jarrick’s mate, Gendi, and their daughter Ezbeth had also lucked out. Appreciative for their good fortune, Malcolm said a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god was listening, if there even was such a thing. He used to think so, but now he wondered if all of it was just something people made up to feel better about the world.

  The dinner meal of gruel arrived, pushed into their cell on a cart by a young female soldier. Usually the soldiers left the cart and prisoners took a bowl, but this time, the soldier passed each prisoner their food individually, making sure everyone got one. Malcolm had not seen this soldier before, and said thanks to her as he reached for his bowl.

  Quietly, so that only those in the cell could hear her, she said, “I am Private Reema Sura. I know this is not much, but I will try to get more food next time. There is no reason you should be starved.” She had a dark complexion, and although she had tucked her hair under her cap, Malcolm could see the wisps that stuck out were straight and black, just like Sergeant Gonzalez on the HSPC that brought them to this prison.

  This girl resembled him in appearance only. The simple fact that she was being kind to them meant her personality could be nothing like Gonzalez.

  Malcolm took the bowl from Private Sura and thanked her.

  She eyed him up and down and said, �
�You are Malcolm, right?”

  He nodded.

  She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Isabella sends her love and wants you to know that she and her friends are working on a plan.”

  “How do you know my wife?”

  “I don’t. But I know her friend Daphne.” Her eyes scanned the others in the room, finally settling on Clay, and she passed him a bowl of food. His webbed fingers extended to reach for it, and his now matted and dirty, shoulder length blond hair tumbled into his eyes. She nodded once and asked, “Clay?”

  The boy’s eyes gleamed and he eagerly responded. “Yes! Please tell Daphne to tell Isabella that we miss her, but we’re glad she’s out of this place.”

  “I will,” replied the soldier with a small smile. She was turning to leave when Clay stopped her.

  “Can you get a message to my girl, Kalla? She’s in a cell three down, that way.” He pointed to the right of the bars that made up the front wall of their cell. The young soldier nodded.

  “Tell her it will all be okay. Tell her I miss her, and I love her.” Tears welled in Clay’s eyes and his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. Malcolm was not sure he had ever heard Clay profess his love to Kalla before. The boy was growing up, as they all did, too quickly.

  August 29, 2101

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Isabella

  Checking her messages upon waking was Isabella’s new normal, and Monday morning was no exception. Everything was always in code, but this morning’s message from Mathias was not. It simply said that she should turn on the news broadcast.

  Isabella dutifully switched on the monitor and turned up the volume so she could hear it from the bathroom. She liked the comforts of Mt. Weather and did not want to rush through her morning ablutions. Housekeepers kept the lavatory scrupulously clean and Isabella enjoyed the fluffy and fragrant towels, which she never had to wash and hang to dry as she had in her underground shelter.

  Once done, she returned to the living room and curled up on the couch to watch the broadcast. She pulled a light blanket over her bare legs and pinned her eyes to the monitor. In a few minutes, Luke joined her, as did Dr. Rosario. She might have felt badly about waking them with the noise from the broadcast, but not once they began watching the news.

  The first news story was about a protest at the greenhouses. The head of the facility had released a statement early that morning that they would not turn over their produce to anyone unless everyone in the city got equal access to what they grew, and that included the mutant prisoners on level ten. The facility head, Paula Zubrin, said that those people were being held illegally, and that while she could not do anything to change that, she would do what she could to make sure they were at least fed. They could not be allowed to live on a subsistence diet while everyone else in the city ate well, and that if the new human prisoners suffered, so would everyone else in the city. She said that President Harrison was welcome to come out to the greenhouse tunnel and speak with her at any time to resolve the situation. Until then, all food shipments would be on hold.

  Isabella stared at the monitor in stunned disbelief, not only at her use of Isabella’s term for the mutants, although that pleased her. “How did that lady even know the prisoners were barely being fed?”

  Luke simply stated, “Noeni works in the greenhouses.”

  Dr. Rosario added, “President Harrison is not going to let the greenhouse workers dictate his policy on mutants. He will send the military down there and force them to turn over the produce.”

  Isabella agreed. “He will. The greenhouse people won’t get what they want, but because of this, more people will know about the plight of the prisoners. Most of this city doesn’t even know they are being held here at all!”

  The scientist smiled at her, but there was despondency in his eyes. “That group is having some real impact against the disinformation of the current government. I just hope no one gets hurt in the process.”

  Isabella and Luke both nodded at the old man’s assessment, but turned their attention back to the news broadcast. She unconsciously twirled a lock of her hair while Luke chewed on his lower lip. As much as she hated to admit it, they really were two of a kind in a lot of ways.

  As shocking a story as a potential lack of food was, there was another story even more startling. The newscaster spoke to the camera and this time, it did not appear that she was reading from a script. “There has been growing sentiment for freeing the mutants, but even more of a growing dislike of President Harrison’s actions. People do not like being spied on and being lied to, even those that have no like for mutants. Finding out that your government has been lying to you and actively listening to your conversations is unsurprisingly angering the public.”

  Her eyes then turned to her notes and she continued, on script. “That became abundantly evident last night, when unknown suspects ripped out microphones in hallways on four levels of the city. Every listening device was physically ripped out, thrown on the floor, and smashed. So far, there are no suspects and no arrests.”

  The woman on the monitor paused for a moment, then finished, “That’s all for news on the hour. We will bring you more information as it becomes available.”

  “Did your group do that?” whispered Dr. Rosario to Luke and Isabella.

  They both shook their heads and Luke mouthed, “Don’t think so.”

  “Wow,” said Isabella. “I did not see that coming. I wonder who did it.”

  Luke smiled wickedly, then replied, “The revolution is spreading.”

  Isabella thought it was more evolution than revolution. Changing the world was not a sudden event, a single act that burst seemingly from nowhere. Changing the world could start as a whisper that was taken up by others, the message and the acts evolving and growing and mutating into new acts, new ways of doing things, and new ideologies. Changing the world did not need to be complex. Sometimes change was simple, and simple was smart.

  Revolution and evolution were indeed spreading.

  * * *

  Malcolm

  Breakfast had been late that morning and the mid-day meal never arrived at all. Malcolm was hungry. His stomach rumbled low and loud and he patted it to shush it, knowing that would do no good, but needing to do something. They received only two meals of horrible unidentifiable, mashed food a day, so not getting one of them was extremely hard on the big man. Tall, though sinewy, he was a head taller than most people were, and he required quite a lot of calories to keep his body going. He was an expert hunter and had never lacked for food in his entire seventeen years. During his weeks at the mutant village of Telemark, he had eaten so well that he had put on weight for the first time in his life. He was thankful right now for those extra pounds, and wished that his young friend Clay had that same advantage. The boy was as hungry as he was, but had no fat reserves. At least Clay was small. He could survive on less.

  At this point, surviving was all any of them were doing.

  Malcolm could not imagine why they had not been brought anything to eat that afternoon. Starving and stir crazy, he worried about his daughters and Kalla in another cell. The girls had passed three messages down from their cell during the day, but each only said that they were okay. Malcolm had sent a message back, to all the prisoners, to keep their hopes up. Something would happen soon. He fervently wished the young soldier, Reema, would return. Even if she did not bring them food, he hoped for some information.

  Late that evening, he got his wish. Reema came, empty handed and alone. She and another guard stood outside the barred cell door and announced, “There has been a disturbance at the greenhouses today. Most of our troops were sent to take care of the problem so we were shorthanded here and unable to bring you your meal. But I am happy to announce that the greenhouse disruption will not cause a food shortage to prisoners. Tomorrow morning, we will bring all prisoners their usual breakfast.” She paused and then said quieter, almost shamefully, “I’m sorry.”

  With that, Privat
e Reema Sura turned and walked further down the hall of the detention level. Malcolm could hear her repeating the same announcement to other prisoners.

  Clay started crying, and Malcolm hugged him tight. The child was only eleven, and did not deserve any of this. He did not deserve to be a prisoner, or to be starved. Though he was growing up fast, he was still just a boy.

  Malcolm was startled when Clay pulled away from him and began pounding his fists into his chest. He had not expected this kind of rage from the boy, but he should have. Clay pummeled him and wailed, snot running from his nose and almost unintelligible cries gurgling from his throat. He screamed and bawled and pounded his fury at the world, at Malcolm, at everything. Malcolm let him beat his fists for as long as it took Clay to work out his anger. His strong frame absorbed the blows until Clay was exhausted and slumped against him. Malcolm once again wrapped fatherly arms around him until his whimpers finally petered out.

  I got them into this, thought Malcolm. I took them out of Ewr to find a better life. This is my fault.

  He almost broke down in tears himself but stopped, trying to remember something his father used to tell him. He closed his eyes and looked into darkness, then saw an image of his father standing big and tall, black as midnight. No one controls his own life. The world turns and things happen, completely out of your control. All you can do is roll with the punches, and fight back where you can.

  That was exactly what he would do.

  August 29, 2101

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Isabella

  That evening, Isabella and Luke, along with most of their new group of friends, were eagerly anticipating Dr. Rosario. The only ones missing were Daphne, who was on duty like every soldier in the city; Hayden, who had been there earlier in the day but had to leave for work at four o’clock; and Noeni who was at the greenhouses that morning and had probably been arrested with the rest of the workers. The military had marched in there during the late morning and put a stop to the protest, just as Dr. Rosario had predicted. Nuala had called her parents a couple of times to see if they had heard anything, but all they knew was that her twin was in custody for civil disobedience.