by Lynda Engler
Advance praise for
Into the Yellow Zone
“Awesome story all around. I would be here forever if I listed everything I like about your work.”
-- Zora Marie
“Fascinating and professionally written, and the end was tied up nicely while still leaving it VERY open to a sequel.”
-- Jenna Whittaker
“Lots of great, interesting details that made this dystopian world both new and familiar. Now I need to read the last book so I can find out what happens to Isabella and Luke!”
-- Veronica Jorden
“You rotter!! I hope you have part three written because I am now on tenterhooks wondering what is going to happen next.”
-- Elizabeth Burns
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Into the Yellow Zone
Copyright 2017 Lynda Engler. All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
Cover art by Daniela Owergoor.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Edition
ISBN-13: 978-1537185576
ISBN-10: 1537185578
Into the Yellow Zone
by Lynda Engler
Book Two: Into the Outside
June 2040
History…
Tony burst in the front door of his family’s farmhouse, the sound of the squealing brakes of the school bus fading away as it left his street. His father sat at the kitchen table in tears, cradling his head in his palms as his elbows ground divots in the wooden tabletop. Sobs choked his vocal chords, only one out of every three turning into audible cries.
Tony fought the terror as icy fingers gripped his heart and squeezed until pain wrenched the words from his throat. He dropped his backpack to the floor. “Dad! What’s the matter?” He had never seen his father cry. Ever.
“It’s your mother. Her plane… she’s gone.”
Through his father’s tears, the details slowly emerged. The plane carrying his mother to see her cousin in Italy had crashed into the Atlantic. There were no survivors. Authorities suspected it was terrorist activity but did not yet know what happened, except that there had been an explosion onboard. Tony collapsed to the linoleum floor and sobbed. He remembered his mother’s face, her smile that cheered him even in his blackest moments. He recalled the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches she made him faithfully each day and the candy she snuck into his lunch bag even though the school did not allow it. He heard her voice in his head, sometimes you just have to treat yourself to something special and not worry about what society thinks. The thought that he would never hear that voice again was too much to bear.
Hours later, he heard a horses’ whinny from the paddock, pulled himself up from the floor, washed his face in the kitchen sink, and went to feed the horses. From that moment on, he steeled his broken heart against the pain.
Growing up was supposed to be gradual, not a sudden gash in the fabric of time. Tragedy had ripped his life apart and he would never fully recover from the wound loss had left in its wake.
By high school, Tony was branded the weird kid. He was no longer the outgoing, personable boy his mother had raised. He had quit band and soccer, and stopped participating in any school events. Most of the friends he had before the terrorists killed his mother had given up on him as he became more and more reclusive, save a girlfriend who saw through his pain. He started insisting kids and teachers call him ‘Anthony,’ thinking Tony was too childish. Before and after school, he helped his father run their business, the Bellardini Horse Farm, especially as his father’s health began to fail. In his free time, he read his father’s entire collection of classic survivalist fiction novels from the 1980s, certain that the wars on foreign soil would eventually make their way to America. The survivalist books became his obsession. He needed to be prepared.
At his high school graduation, the kid in line behind him chatted as they marched toward diplomas and the real world. “I’m joining the Army right after graduation. Why don’t you too, Anthony? That way you can do something to end all these wars.”
“No, thanks, Martin. My dad needs my help. Someone has to care for the horses.” Anthony would have joined the army because he desperately wanted to stop the evil that caused his mother’s death. However, he could not leave his father to take care of the farm by himself. It had not been his lifelong dream, but he did not have a choice. His father loved that farm and those horses. Tony would do anything to help his father, for as long as he could.
He would make do with novels as his fantasy and running a horse farm as his reality.
Three weeks after graduation, Anthony’s father finally succumbed to the cancer he had been fighting for two years. Tony got the insurance money, inherited the horse farm and two months later in a quiet, civil ceremony, he married his girlfriend. His new wife, Louise, was recently accepted to Princeton. Louise studied to be a teacher while he worked the farm.
The hundred-year old trees that surrounded the secluded homestead hid the excavators clawing dirt out of the ground. It took another two years, but eventually the life insurance money allowed Anthony to build a nuclear and biological fallout shelter. Hidden beneath a twelve-foot deep, glass-bottomed pool that brought in light to the 4500 square foot luxury bunker were five bedrooms around a central great room, a kitchen, laundry, bathroom, library, and a huge hydroponics garden to grow fresh vegetables. The well that supplied their fresh water pulled from an underground river over a thousand feet below the surface. Anthony stocked the shelter with a ten-year supply of dried goods and toiletries.
“What the hell are you doing, Anthony?” Louise said through tears as she looked at the storage room in the shelter. She could not take her eyes off the shelves of toilet paper. “Are you crazy? I am fine with building this underground apartment; it’s pretty cool, and you know I love the library and the garden. If it’s what you want to do with your father’s money, it’s your choice. But are you really going to stock up for the end of the world?”
“Babe, please. I’m not crazy. Eventually the nut jobs are going to go too far, and all of humanity will pay the price. I don’t want to be right about this, but you’ll see. I will be,” replied Anthony.
Louise had loved Anthony from the first moment she met him, sophomore year in high school, but sometimes he had a way of persuading people that she did not like being pulled into. He stated his opinions as if they were facts and his complete lack of doubt made you believe him.
She might not have believed him, but she did not stop him, and they went on with their lives, with a huge survival shelter underneath their house.
Anthony and Louise’s neighbors never knew that the old farmhouse was largely unoccupied by the young couple. When not at school or working, they spent their time in the underground shelter, even sleeping in the large master bedroom below ground.
On the day of the Final War – because the whole thing lasted only a day – Chicago and Washington were reduced to a wasteland of rubble, shattered glass, flipped over cars, tumbling buildings, and monuments. Targeted, nuclear bombs fell on Seattle and Los Angeles. How the terrorists had been able to coordinate such a massi
ve assault and carry it out with such precision was still unknown. It was not just the U.S. that was targeted. Toronto, Mexico City and Rio de Janeiro were wiped off the face of the Earth. Chemicals poisoned major North and South American cities and Europe and Asia were almost annihilated. Whatever areas of the world were not targeted directly, died soon enough as the winds and rain spread the deadly chemicals around the globe.
The West had finally lost the Terror Wars.
August 2101
Chapter One
Luke
Luke had to get out of quarantine and he had to do it today.
As anxious as he was, he decided to wait until nightfall when there would be fewer people around and less chance of being caught. Tonight would be the only chance to escape the Picatinny military base before Colonel Ericcsen forced him to return to his family’s underground shelter tomorrow.
He was not exactly a prisoner, but being forced to return home against his will – when he had a mission to accomplish – made him feel like the lowliest felon. Luke spent the day making plans. It was impossible to plan for every contingency. He would improvise some of it along the way, but he had at least a basic outline of what he needed to do.
As he finished his dinner, a knock outside his door signaled the arrival of the attendant who took his tray every night. “You done?” asked the young female soldier from the doorway.
“Yeah, just about,” he said. Luke wiped his mouth with the napkin before carrying the tray across the room. He winked at her, and then dropped his napkin.
Luke took another step closer and retrieved the napkin from the floor, but now, he was standing right next to the door.
“Flirting won’t get you out of this room,” said the young soldier. She took the tray and the proffered napkin with such a look of irritation that Luke thought she might actually slap him. “Sure you’re not just trying to look under my skirt?”
“Look up your skirt? Why, what’s under there?” he answered with a sly grin.
“Teenagers!” she retorted, although she could not have been more than twenty herself. She turned and keyed the code into the electronic keypad, hiding it from him with her body. The lock made a dull click behind her as the door closed and sealed him in once again.
Perfect. Now he just had to wait until dark.
Sneaking out at night was becoming a bit of a habit. His cousin-sister Isabella had snuck out of their shelter repeatedly before she finally left for good with the mutant tribe. A few days later, Luke made his own nightly escape in an attempt to bring her back. For two shelter kids who had it ingrained in their being from the first day of their lives just how dangerous it was Outside, it was weird how easily both he and Isabella had formed this habit. Now he was going to do it all over again.
The clock on the wall indicated ten pm. It was late enough. The attendant who brought him his food had no idea how good an ear he had for music. She had been sloppy and allowed him to stand too close to the door. He had heard the tones loud and clear and easily duplicated the code by the sound of the keypad notes.
Luke put his backpack on and set off down the hall to Nurse Lady’s office. He scanned around the corner before turning down the next corridor, making sure no one was in sight.
Reaching the nurse’s office, the tried the door. It was unlocked. I guess the only door they lock is mine, thought Luke. Creeping in, he saw cabinet doors lining one wall. The first one was locked. So was the next one, and the third. They were all locked! He swore.
There has to be a key here somewhere! he thought. Where would I hide a key? He surveyed the room, and then pulled open the nurse’s desk drawers, rummaging through them, but had no success in any of them. They have to be here, they have to. If it were me, I would…
He turned his hand up and felt along the underside of the desktop beneath the wide center drawer and voila! His fingers practically danced over the key taped to the top.
Luke unlocked every cabinet until he found the little round pills labeled INH2. He took a dozen bottles, stuffing them deep into his backpack, before relocking every cabinet and carefully replacing the key under the desktop.
He retraced his steps to the decontamination shower where the army trucks had brought him upon his arrival to the base a week ago. Along the way, he passed offices and labs. Behind one door, he heard a yapping dog. That must be Nurse Lady’s quarters. She was the only one he knew who had a dog. Having a puppy would be fun, he thought… and make the journey home much less lonely.
He cautiously peered around every corner before continuing. Thankfully, the halls were deserted. Apparently, this section of Picatinny Arsenal’s security was limited to the airlock entrance. The door to the locker room was open – it must only lock from the other side. That would make sense – they only needed to keep people out. There would be no reason to keep base personnel from leaving if they wished to.
During his journey from his family shelter, Luke had picked up a few useful things. Now he dug out the screwdriver he had found in the old barn before his capture and wedged it into the doorframe, just in case he had to get back in. I’d rather go back in than be stuck in the DeCon chamber if I can’t get out.
Metal lockers lined the walls and military-style chem-rad suits hung on hooks on the far side of the room. I should take one, he thought and considered his options. The active camouflage chemical/radiation suits could help keep the military from finding him, and provide him safety from further contamination Outside. However, it was likely they also contained tracking units which meant that it would be easy for them to find him.
He examined one of the suits to see if anything on it looked like a tracking device but had no idea what he was looking for or even where to look.
The suit could be useful getting out of the facility. Maybe he could ditch it once outside, but would the suit be enough to get him past the guards?
Merely walking out “invisible” would not work. Airlock doors do not cycle on their own. Better play it safe. I’m going to need some kind of diversion.
Racing through the locker room and back down the hall, Luke slowly opened the door to the nurse’s quarters. Yap, yap, yap – cute puppy. “Okay, you’re with me,” he whispered to the dog as he scooped up the little ball of beige fuzz. The pup barely came to his knees and was surprisingly light. “You’re more fur than dog. Now be quiet.”
The eager little animal licked Luke’s face but then settled down in his arms. He had to get out before Nurse Lady realized her dog was gone.
Running back to the locker room, Luke put the dog down and quickly climbed into the active camo chem-rad suit. He struggled to pull it up and secure it. These suits were not as baggy as the civilian suit his grandfather had. They were designed to allow soldiers the kind of flexibility and movement they needed to engage in active warfare. With a final, solid tug, he secured it, then flung his pack over his back. He caught sight of himself in one of the locker room mirrors. He could not help thinking that he looked like a space explorer.
He began to sweat as he put on the air mask and pulled the visor over his face. Though the military version offered more peripheral vision than the civilian counterpart, it still felt claustrophobic. For a moment, Luke felt as if he could not breathe. Stay calm, you only have to keep this thing on for a few more minutes. Cool, sterile air flowed freely through the small mask over his nose and mouth under the large, clear visor. He forced himself to take a long, deep breath before he grabbed the puppy and stepped through the door into the decontamination area.
The decon area housed vehicles of all sizes and shapes. There were battle tanks, armored personnel carriers, light infantry vehicles, utility vehicles, heavy equipment trucks, and smaller vehicles that only carried a few people. Every vehicle had been designed to protect its occupants from the dangers Outside. The largest airlock he had ever seen loomed in front of him again. If I go through that, they’re sure to capture me. Then, in the other corner of the great room, he spotted a small airlock. A sign reading ‘pe
rsonnel lock’ hung over the door. Of course! Why would they cycle a huge door every time? Still, there would be guards outside. He hugged the puppy to stop his hands trembling.
The controls were simple, like his home’s airlock. Once inside the compartment, Luke shifted the small dog under one arm and flicked a switch on his suit. It rippled and he disappeared. “Cool!” There was a problem however. When he moved, a hazy outline of his arm shimmered against the interior airlock wall. He triggered the lock cycle then crouched low to the ground and waited motionless. Cycle complete and outer door now open, he saw the guards outside. He let go of the dog and whispered, “Sorry buddy. Now, shoo!”
YAP, YAP, YAP. The puppy scampered toward the guards, only ten feet away.
“What the…?” yelled one guard, wheeling around to face the small animal.
The other guard looked right at Luke inside the open airlock but the camouflage held true and the guard soon looked away. “How the hell did a dog open an airlock?” he asked.
Nurse Lady’s puppy scampered away from the soldiers. “Get him!” yelled one of the guards and both chem-rad suited men took off after the little dog.
Luke left the airlock chamber and moved in the opposite direction from the guards. Through the trees, down a hill, around a boulder, and downhill again. Far enough, he thought. Quickly, he dropped his backpack, removed the helmet, ripped off the air mask, and stripped the suit from his body. A wave of Outside smells hit him in the face and he almost fell back from the assault. After almost a week inside again, he had forgotten how intense the aromas of the world were! The sweet smell of green leaves, musky dirt, and woody underbrush swirled around him. Luke breathed it in deeply. Ahh! He had missed these smells! Picatinny filtered its air to bland sterility.