Mischa grinned as she and her new group of co-workers went through the utility room lined with thick coats, hats, gloves, and helmets. Shortly, she'd be back out in the world and one step closer to finding Vita and Gunnar. April walked her through the motions of preparing herself for the outdoors: a world she hadn't seen in nearly two months. It would take a lot of restraint not to run as soon as her eyes adjusted to daylight. Quinton, she had to stay until they could both make a calculated and intelligent break for it. He seemed to need the escape as much as she did lately.
"Your eyes will be extra sensitive to UV rays and natural light now, so you'll need a pair of these." April handed Mischa a boxy set of tinted glasses.
When Mischa brought them up to her face, the rubber jutting out from the frames reached her cheeks and sealed tight like a scuba mask.
"This seems unnecessary," Mischa said. She set the black monstrosity back on the table.
"What is unnecessary, new recruit, is blindness. When you lose your sight, no matter how short an occasion, you are vulnerable. We are in charge of your protection and will not tolerate avoidable risks," a male security officer said. His temper was as short as his buzzed hair.
April began to secure a thick black vest, thrown over her chest and back. Her appearance resembled the security officers' more and more. Not wanting to be yelled at again, Mischa donned one of the thick vests under the thick yet loose shirt provided. The protective wear was heavier than anything she had worn before. If Quinton were here, he would have joked about the backward nature of becoming medieval knights in what was supposed to be a futuristic society.
"Should I even bother asking about the bulletproof vests?"
April put on a forced smile."We can't risk losing the few of us that actually made it into the facility."
Her eyes scanned the room and her voiced dropped. "At first they told us it was for wind projectiles, then when we rarely encountered storms they told us, 'You never know if rogue survivors of the disaster will attack for a spot in here.'"
Mischa leaned close to April and whispered, "Do you honestly believe that?"
She shrugged. "Lives are worth protecting."
"What about those survivor's lives?"
What if Vita or Gunnar were the ones approaching? She doubted either could pose much of a threat, but if this facility had fewer and fewer scruples, the outcome would devastate her.
April simply looked down at the ground as the corners of her lips sunk. At that moment, Mischa could feel a pair of eyes upon them, the same cold stare that had reprimanded her before. She'd have to wait to get better information from April when her questions didn't put her friend at risk.
The thick pants and shirt caused Mischa to waddle over to the supply room where she picked up a bamboo woven basket to strap to her back. A couple of the other gardeners carried large black bags together which must have contained the tools. Were they too paranoid to even leave them in a shed outside?
A woman in a white lab coat entered the room and spoke with the security officer. Her gaze scanned the room until her eyes landed on Mischa. She motioned for Mischa to come over before turning back to the officer. Mischa's palms began to sweat as she slowly made her way over. White coats only meant one thing.
"This isn't the right booster," the security officer said.
"She can't have the regular one."
"Why not?"
"According to her file, the chemical poses too much of a risk to her current health."
The officer crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her. "Other women here get the same shot without any effects. Why the sudden change?"
"She's special," the woman said and she narrowed her eyes. "Now, if you are finished wasting my time, I'll need Mrs. Fairbrook as well."
The man shuffled off, grumbling under his breath. Mischa approached with a bit of respect for the no-nonsense woman. She could still have unfavourable intentions though. Mischa wondered if this change in policy had anything to do with her future as one of their colony's child-bearing queens, but it was odd she wasn't the only one getting special treatment. The department employed approximately twenty individuals in a facility of hundreds. The odds just didn't support her suspicion.
The medical worker handed Mischa a small cup with three, colored pills as well as a cup of water. Another woman approached, dark hair held back in a braid as firm as her facial expression. The security officer attached to her side didn't help the mood.
"You will tie me down and force those down my throat before I take them willingly."
The security guard, likely happy for any excuse, grabbed the woman firmly by the shoulder and shoved his face in front of hers. "As much of a pleasure as that would be -- you medicine hating witchdoctor -- these are mandatory. There's been an outbreak and we need to contain it."
"You want us out at the surface with an outbreak present? Has the facility been leaching their experimental toxins into the waters or have you finally encountered a substance you cannot control?" The agricultural worker asked.
"You twenty are an acceptable risk. People need to eat."
"It won't kill you, just make you violently ill for the better part of a month," the woman in the lab coat added.
"Charming, the whole group of you," said the disgruntled woman. She took the cup of pills and water and walked back over to the equipment. "Red, are you coming?"
Mischa raised an eyebrow and looked at the woman. She could only imagine that the softest look yet to grace this woman's face was meant for her. "Yeah, thanks for these," Mischa muttered to the medical worker as she walked off.
She sat down on a wooden bench across from the dark-haired woman and placed the paper cup of pills in front of her.
"Mischa Hues, I presume."
Mischa's eyebrows raised as she assessed the woman. Small dark circles stood out under her eyes while the rest of her face looked gaunt. It was plausible that word had gotten around she had joined this department and her name was common knowledge.
"I'm Amelia. I need you to carefully slip those pills up your sleeve without drawing attention to yourself."
Mischa tried to keep her face neutral as she spoke, not to give anything away. Strangers rarely walked up to her.
"I'm not sure I want to take that chance."
She didn't need to compromise her health before she and Quinton planned their escape.
"There's no toxin. They're fertility drugs that they're slipping us. If I'm not mistaken, they are likely calming agents to relax us before the meeting tomorrow."
"The meeting?"
"Come on, girl, you're smarter than that. Finding the list of the six of us candidates was easier than bribing a politician. Now raise that silly, empty little cup and let's toast. To our right to choose and fight an unjust system." Amelia took care to keep her voice low and kept the movement of her lips minimal not avoid betraying her meaning.
Mischa slipped the pills into her palm and brought the paper cup to her lips, before chasing it with the water. She fingered the three pills presently resting between her fingertips.
"You have to get rid of those outside. Can't leave any evidence out in the open."
Mischa nodded and tucked them away in her tool belt. She'd ask April about it too just to be safe. The smug officer wasted no time walking over with a grin.
"Now that wasn't so hard, Fairbrook. One day, you'll learn your place. You all figure it out eventually."
"Eat fertilizer," Amelia said and kept her eyes low.
April came over, a magnet for tension waiting to be defused. She directed a naive smile at the group. "Are we nearly ready, officer Williams?"
"Just a few checks to finish and we'll be on our way, April."
She managed to get a look other than miserable out of the stern man, not that Mischa was the least bit envious.
As promised, they exited the preparation room in five minutes. They walked through a narrow corridor and entered an area that managed to maintain its mountain charm, despite the gaping space that had likely been blasted away to accommodate the cave. Mischa noted there was no keypad or locking system to enter. The ceiling extended thirty feet up, but she couldn't spot any stairs or ladders that serviced it, if this happened to be their exit. She recalled a similar room when she had first arrived in the strange underground lair.
April led Mischa to a round platform where the rest of the group stood. A jagged set of rocks with moss marked the circumference. Officer Williams stood to the side and unlocked a metal box. Most of the interior was shielded by the man's muscular body mass, but she caught a glimpse of a punch code and another lever.
"No need to be afraid, it's just a security precaution and we'll be moving shortly," April said as she followed Mischa's gaze.
Mischa continued to watch him close the box up with a key attached to his key-ring. The platform shook beneath their feet and slowly rose toward the rock roof. Officer Williams jumped aboard the platform moments later, before it rose out of reach. The darkness of the roof drew closer as their speed increased. Mischa's eyes widened and her heart pounded loudly. No other faces mirrored her concern. It must be opening. Ten feet from the roof, the rock parted and they just made it through in time. She could have been imagining things, but Officer Williams appeared to have a smirk on his face.
She wasn't keen to believe it, but the goggles ended up helping. The air around her felt light and clear compared to the staleness of the facility. The landscape had more jagged peaks and greenery than she remembered when they had first dragged her in two months ago.
Her eyes settled on a familiar rock with a red stain and the pain came right back.
"You have to go back for them," she cried. Dark skies replied with a crack of thunder.
"Our orders are only to retrieve you. Your friends are likely gone with all the tornado activity."
No, not Vita, not Gunnar. They were alive and breathing. They needed her. She remained rooted on the spot as the ground quaked and a hole opened up meters from the strangers who had taken her.
"Ms. Hues, we need to go inside before the storms reach us."
"No." Her voice stayed firm and without too much emotion.
"Ms. Hues," a stern black haired woman spoke. "Come or we will have to escort you inside more personally. Your father is expecting you."
Mischa took in a heavy breath and her shoulders sagged. She bit her lip before she turned and ran down a gravel path with all her energy. The crunches on gravel echoed behind her, but she didn't dare look back to see what, if any, advantage she had. Her foot caught, unsettling her momentum and moments later, she felt a sharp pain near her temple.
"I'm restraining the next one," the woman's voice came from above. Somehow her body had become much more acquainted with the ground.
Mischa's palm stung and when she attempted to open up her eyes to assess the damage, the left one burned. She brought her hand up to wipe away a hot wetness before everything went black.
She swallowed hard. The rock's location wasn't even far from the platform. That was it, her last futile attempt to help her friends. What made her think that this one would be any more successful.
"It gets easier," Amelia's voice came from behind.
Mischa let out a trapped breath. "What does?"
"This cruel carrot they dangle in front of our noses day after day. We can work together in the research division."
"Mrs. Fairbrook, she needs to be trained and is better suited for less demanding tasks," Officer Williams said.
"With all due respect, officer, your organization wouldn't have spent the past two years bribing, blackmailing and harassing me if I didn't know what I was doing. She comes with me."
The officer kept the rest of his opinions to himself all the way down the path. Mischa was torn between working with this new and opinionated woman or with her friend who could also be in danger by staying here. Amelia knew as much about the corrupt nature as she did, if not more. Her scowl at the officer didn't show any cooperation. Could she be here against her will as well? As they rounded a corner, tiers of green, climbing down the side of the mountain, took her by surprise.
"What is that?"
April had caught up to the two women. "Terraces, rows and rows of terraces. Come fall, we'll have more than enough to feed everyone more than the stale meals we have right now."
"This is crazy, how can it grow up here?"
April's grin grew as she rocked on her heels. She must have loved school and giving all the right answers. "We're not the first and won't be the last. The Incas were driven up into the mountains by droughts and forced to adapt. They still practise these methods around the world today. We can optimize water usage by getting rainfall before it makes its way down the mountain. The proximity means the food won't rot in transport."
"Yet the face of the mountain is forever changed. Nor do all species fare well at such altitudes," Amelia added.
"But you can solve that, can't you, Fairbrook? Since you're so smart and all," officer Williams challenged.
Amelia didn't say a word as she walked over to a section of the terrace enclosed in a greenhouse. Mischa's curiosity got the better of her and she followed the woman into the enclosure. Inside, different containers were labelled with wooden stakes. Everything seemed to be called a hybrid, crosses of all sorts of fruits and vegetables. Grains were placed here and there as well, growing in small shoots.
"If you plan on staying, at least take off that basket so you don't knock over the plants." She gestured to an empty corner where it could be abandoned.
"This wasn't my idea, all this genetically modified crap. I would have clear cut a forest before I let my daughter eat any of this poison." Amelia surveyed a group of tomato plants of varying sizes.
"How old is your daughter?"
"She was six. Contrary to what they'll have you believing out there about survivors posing a threat, very few made it past the first week."
Mischa's next breath struggled to reach her windpipe. As sad as Amelia's statement was, the girl had been a child and her odds of making it minimal. Mischa had been with Vita and Gunnar when the storm hit. She had watched the tornadoes miss them until the helicopter came. They were alive; she was sure of it. They had to be or all was for naught.
Amelia's eyes stayed trained on her body. She shifted uncomfortably. Could this woman be trying to get information out of her? Had the facility caught onto her and Quinton's plan?
"Who is it that you're holding your breath for?"
Safe answer. "Just friends of mine."
The woman smiled sincerely for what felt like the first time. "I hope they're alright. The pain of the alternative is indescribable."
"Thanks," Mischa muttered. She swallowed her guilt given that she hadn't uttered a word of sympathy about the woman's child, but that moment had passed.
"Come on now, I'll show you which fertilizer combinations to use on each pot. They're colour-coded until we pick a primary."
Amelia brought her back to another section with sealed white containers. She peeled back a lid. A pungent odour crept out and Mischa thrust her hand over her nose.
"That smells like an outhouse," she exclaimed.
"What other kind of fertilizer did you think we had up here?" A smile finally crossed Amelia's face. "Now when you go to each plant make sure to place the exact same measurements in each plant otherwise we'll have to do it all over. Check the notebook for the correct amounts and note down the height and leaf conditions before and after you add it. Any questions?"
"Do I really have to do this?"
"It'll put some hair on your chest."
"Gross."
"Metaphorical hair. The smell has its benefits; it keeps the officers out."
"And why is that a benefit?"
"You mean other than avoiding their winning personalities?" Amelia dropped her voice. "Because I don't like being overheard."
Mischa's stomach clenched as she began to question the woman's intentions. She folded her arms over her chest and took another deep breath. They were the only two in this secluded environment. There was a nearby shovel that she could lunge for just in case.
"Are you always so nervous? Must lead to an unsettled life." Amelia turned her attention back to the tomato plants as pressed her fingers into the soil. "I realize you're under a lot of stress with this birthing program and I'm here to offer you a solution. I need help with something and I think you're the right one to help."
"Why's that?"
"Because I've gotten access to your file and know you are one of the few who isn't here by choice or by contract signed on your behalf. Now they want to breed you, me and four other women like horses. Best genes, my ass. We were targeted for a reason. I'm sure of it. I was going to try and seek you out at another time, but like clockwork, you dropped into the agricultural department."
Mischa's frowned as her skin grew colder from the outside temperatures. She didn't know what to make of this woman's upfront nature. "That file contained personal information."
"Nothing and everything is personal in this place."
What did that even mean?
"Now, I'll be honest with you. I chose you because seemed like the person I'd have to persuade the least. I think you may have motives the most similar to mine. Time isn't on our side, which is why I'm acting brashly and telling you all this before I even know if you can be trusted."
Her frown deepened. Easiest to persuade? Did that make her gullible? "What do you want then?"
Amelia's tone was as clear as her neural expression. "To get the hell out of this place."