Anomaly (12 page)

Years of history lessons pop into my mind. The Nuclear War destroyed everything on the earth and it destroyed everything above the earth. The atmosphere became toxic. Our air, like our water, is purified before it ever reaches our lungs. It has to be or we would all die horrible deaths, like the ancients did. Yet Asta pushes the door open more and more.

This is how I am to die.

I don’t want to die. I lunge at Asta, shove her out of the way, close the door, and block her from it. My leg hurts from running into the corner of the door. But it is closed. I am alive. Asta looks up from the ground, wiping remnants of the floor off her shirt.

“I live out there.” She stands and shoots me a look filled with a mixture of annoyance and fatigue. “It isn’t poisonous.”

“You live . . . there?” How much do I not know? How much has been kept from me?

“Yes.” Asta grabs my arm gently and pushes me aside. “They test us to make sure we have the physical and emotional capacities to survive.”

“But . . .” Will I ever be able to speak a complete thought again?

“The air is no longer toxic.” Asta eases open the door. I hold my breath, still wary. “Several of us have returned to try to cultivate life. Follow me.”

I have to breathe or pass out. I choose the former. I gulp a lungful of air and find, to my surprise, that I do not die. It is different from what I am used to breathing. It seems dirty, like my mouth is being coated with the dust that is all over the ground. Is that dust going into my lungs? Will death come slowly, over time, as the dust builds up until I can no longer take a breath?

“Thalli.” Asta is holding my shoulders. I am gasping for air but I can’t get enough. This is the end. Asta forces my head down. I can breathe again.

“You were hyperventilating,” Asta says, her black eyes boring into mine. “Maybe we should come back another time. This is too much.”

“No!” I push her away. “I’m fine. You are going to show me around.”

“You always were stubborn.” Asta laughs. “That’s good up here. All right, let’s go.”

The dust is fine, and with every step, it flies over my shoes, onto my legs. I can’t help myself. I bend down and touch it. We have dirt below—we use it to grow plants. But it is thick. This is
dust. It seems to serve no purpose whatsoever. I pick up a handful and it floats away, leaving my fingers brown. What did this used to be? Am I touching the remnant of a building? A tree? A human? That thought forces me up. I wipe my hands on my pants and shudder.

“Where do you live?” As far as I can see, there is nothing.

“At the bottom of the mountain.” Asta begins to run. I look around. Until now I have focused only on the ground directly in front of me. But farther ahead the ground slopes downward. I hear Asta laugh, and when I find her, she is sitting on a sheet of plastic, skimming down the mountain.

“Come on.” Asta points to a pile of plastic sheets held captive under a rock. She is already halfway down. I don’t want to lose sight of her, so I pull a sheet out, sit on it, and push. Nothing happens. I lift the front edges slightly and then I take off. I lift my legs and go faster.

“This is fun,” I shout, my eyes half closed against the dust.

“Turn left,” Asta is yelling. I grab the sheet and pull up on the right-hand side. “Excellent.”

I am filthy and panting when I reach the bottom. But I don’t care. I have never experienced anything so exhilarating. And when I stand and look around, I am silenced.

Pods are everywhere. Dozens of pods. “How many of you are there?”

“There is much you don’t know.” Asta cups her hands around her mouth. “Visitor.”

The pods open to reveal people of all ages. They smile at me and nod. Their faces are different from ours somehow. Darker, with more wrinkles. Their clothes aren’t the uniforms of the pods but a mismatched conglomeration of fabrics and colors.

“Welcome.” A woman at least two generations older than me reaches for my hand. Hers feels rough, but her eyes are kind. “This is Progress.”

“Progress?”

The woman motions me inside her pod. “Yes, that is our name for this city.”

The pod is far different from what we have inside. This resembles what I have seen of John’s room and the pink isolation chamber I was sent to. The walls are covered in a light blue, the floor in a striped pattern of blues and greens. It is large—more than one room. I am standing in what seems to be the main room, and there is seating for five or six, comfortable seating that looks worn.

“My name is April.”

“April?” I look into this woman’s eyes. They are hazel, kind, and they wrinkle at the corners when she smiles. We are all named after elements in the periodic table. Not after months of the year.

April sits and I follow. “We choose our own names here in Progress. We are no longer bound by the rules of the Scientists.”

“But you said the Scientists are good.” I look to Asta, who has taken a seat across from us.

“They are.” Asta leans back in her seat. “The rules are necessary below, but not up here. Those of us who are different are given more freedom.”

“So you choose your own names?” I look at my friend. “Then what is yours?”

“Hope.”

That is a good name.

“What do you do here?”

“We live.” April leans forward and places her hands on her knees.

“Asta.” I shake my head. “Hope. What do you do?”

“We all use our abilities, just like you do below.” She glances at April. “We just use them a little differently.”

“Like what?”

“Below,” April explains, “I was the pod Dietician. I still do that here. Which is why my kitchen is larger than the others’. Would you like to see?”

“Yes.”

We stand and walk through a doorway into a kitchen that is quite similar to ours below. The requisite heating and cooling appliances are in place, along with counters and tools to prepare meals. But it looks different. Less precise somehow. Cloths lie on the counters and the appliances have smudges of food caked on them. That would never be allowed below. Lute kept the entire room pristine.

“I love to experiment with food.” April opens the heating appliance and pulls out a white pan filled with some type of pastry. “Try one.”

I do, and it is delicious. Flavors I have never experienced touch my tongue. “What is this?”

“I’ll take you out to my greenhouse later and show you.” April hands me another pastry. “For now, just enjoy.”

A door opens and footsteps lead into the kitchen. A boy my age enters. He is slightly taller than I am and has much the same coloring as April, dark hair and eyes, olive skin. His smile isn’t as white as ours below, but it is kind.

“Stone.” April nods in my direction. “This is Thalli. She is visiting.”

“First timer?” Stone’s eyes are bright and inquisitive. There is something different about him.

“Yes.” I shake his hand. Like April’s, it is rough but firm. He keeps my hand in his a little longer than is necessary for a greeting.

“Stone is my son.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I
almost choke on the pastry. “Son?”

“She really is a first timer.” Stone’s laugh is kind, but I barely hear it.

“Let’s return to the front room.” April links her arm through mine and walks me back.

“I don’t understand.” John spoke of having children, but he was from primitive times. The Scientists eradicated that form of procreation. It was a danger.

We sit and April turns to me. “The Scientists never intended for life to be as it is below forever. That was simply necessary until the earth once again became habitable.”

“And it is habitable now?”

“Not entirely.” Stone shrugs. “But we are working on it.”

“We receive aid from below,” April says. “And occasionally we receive people like Asta—and hopefully you—who can help us as well.”

I feel like my entire world is tilting. Strong arms—Stone’s—hold my shoulders and I fall into them, unable to right myself. He smells like flowers. His chest is hard. I blink a few times and regain my balance. “I am sorry.”

“This is a lot to take in.” Stone’s arm is still holding me. “Why don’t I take you back? You can return another day.”

“To live here?” I’m not sure I want to live here.

April laughs. “It will be several months before you are given the choice to live here. It is a monumental choice. And it is yours to make. You will not be forced to come here.”

“But if I don’t?” Will I be annihilated? Or relegated to a solitary room like John?

Stone helps me up. “Don’t worry about that now. You are safe.”

I look into his eyes and I know he is sincere. We walk without speaking for a long while.

“The mountain.” I look up and it seems impossibly high. Sliding down on plastic was easy. But how do we get up? It will take hours.

“There’s a shortcut.” Stone takes my hand and squeezes it. “This way.”

We walk past several more pods. Some are larger than others. A few have little gardens in the back. I stop when we pass a small child. I have never seen a child before. In the State, ours is the youngest generation. This child is dark, with huge brown
eyes and the curliest hair I have ever seen. I want to sit and stare at her. I have never seen anyone so adorable in my life.

“Hi, Summer.” Stone tousles the girl’s hair and she grins and runs off. I still cannot move. Stone turns to me. “You’ve never seen a child before, have you?”

I shake my head, still watching the little girl run off, her chubby legs churning up dirt behind her. “Children here are . . . ?”

“Born.” Stone looks at me, his eyes saying something I don’t understand. “You were taught that way is primitive. But up here, it is as natural a part of life as eating and sleeping.”

I don’t know what, exactly, he is talking about, but I find I can hardly think clearly with his eyes on me like this. Berk flashes into my mind and I look away, feeling guilty. I shouldn’t be speaking to Stone this way, shouldn’t be letting him touch me so much. Or should I? If I move here, I can start a new life, and Berk can know I am safe. He can concentrate on being a Scientist and not on trying to save me. Or does Berk even know about Progress? I am so confused.

“It’s all right, Thalli.” Stone’s hand is on my back, rubbing circles. “You can visit as often, or as seldom, as you want. And you can always choose to stay below.”

Stone is facing me now, his hand on my cheek. I don’t know what to think, what to say. He seems so confident, so kind. But he is a stranger. One who lives above, in a primitive way, with a mother, surrounded by children and dust and . . . what else?

“I hope you’ll choose to stay, though. There aren’t many others our age. I have been hoping someone like you would be sent to us.”

“You have Asta—I mean, Hope.” It is odd to call her by that name.

“No, Xander has Hope.” Stone shakes his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain more later.” Stone keeps walking. “I don’t want to overwhelm you on your first trip up.”

We continue on, past the last row of pods and beyond a large building with a huge window that houses items for the pods. The sign on the front reads Progress Store.

“Here we are.” Stone stands aside and points to a door leading into what I assume is the State.

“Are you not coming?” I don’t want to be alone, don’t want to walk back into the Scientists’ quarters by myself. I am frightened.

Stone takes a step back. “No. I don’t like it in there. I was born here, free. This is where I belong.”

I nod.

“This door will take you to level C.” Stone puts his hands in his pockets. “Just walk straight until you come to a metal door. It is unlocked. Walk through and then you’ll be in a washing room. You can shower there. Hope has laid out clean clothes for you to change into.”

I look at my clothes, layered in dust from the earth.

“We don’t want anyone to become suspicious,” Stone explains. “I know Hope told you this, but you really must be silent about our existence. Those below cannot know. It would cause turmoil.”

I wonder again if Berk knows about this place. But I can’t speak Berk’s name in front of Stone. “I won’t say anything.”

“Good.” Stone steps forward and brushes my cheek with his lips. The sensation is wonderful. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

Stone looks at me in a way that makes me feel both shy and wonderful at the same time. And he is not hiding it. He is not embarrassed. He is not concerned someone will see us. This is so different from below. There is so much more freedom here.

I open the door. This looks like the room Asta took me in when we were at the top of the mountain. Old and yellowed, with windows. But now I feel like I may have trouble breathing because I am in and not out. The air feels heavier, the walls so close. But I walk on. I find the washing room and am amazed as the floor turns from white to brown as the water washes all traces of Progress from my skin and hair.

It cannot, however, wash away the memory. I go to the sleeping platform and dream of children and gardens. And Stone.