The Mountain Ch. 03

#

Sheera needed a plan. Without Lucy, she was at risk of acting without thinking.

Sheera was the brave one, the schemer. Lucy was the counter-weight.

Ever since they were kids, it was Sheera who would map out grand ideas and march off into action when they were half-completed. Lucy would listen—she had a way of listening that really was listening—and then, just when Sheera was about to blow everything up, she might say quietly: "Have you thought about it like this?"

And she would. Because she didn't like upsetting Lucy. And often she could see things Lucy's way once she calmed down.

In Lucy's absence, Sheera tried to find her own kind of reason in the emotions swirling through her mind.

Her first impulse was to storm the mountain.

The soldier who had taken her back to town had warned her what would happen if she did, right before he knocked her out, leaving her just outside the busiest part of town. She would be taken prisoner and the treaty allowed a death penalty for those who disobeyed that law twice.

The other choice was to go to her father. It had been his plan in the first place to try to breach the mountain. His calculations had led him to believe that there were certain locations where even a rudimentary antenna might give them a hope of reaching the outside world—the world that they had once had access to by boat, plane, computer, telephone before the mountain people descended. He seemed to think it was best to leave Lucy where she was, despite the many dangers, in hopes that she might complete her mission. Still, he might be talked around.

So why didn't that idea have any appeal?

In the end, she tried to channel her friend, her heart, and chose what she considered a middle ground. She would dust off an old plan of her father's, one she believed had been abandoned too soon. And she wouldn't tell him what she was doing. Instead, she would tell Miles. Pliable, handsome, strong Miles.

If that didn't work, there was the nuclear option. But Miles would be plan A.

#

Lucy woke up disoriented to the sound of someone knocking. The sound rebounded off the metal door, filling the bunker-like room. She tried to roll over to see what it was, but something blocked her.

Warder.

His body was wrapped around her, radiating heat. The cold air stung her ears and her toes where they had escaped the blanket as well as his intense warmth.

The knocking sounded again and the arm slung over her waist twitched. As the fog slowly lifted, Lucy realized that her legs were trapped, too. His leg was slung over hers, pinning her to the bed. She tried to roll away from him and he instantly pulled her back in, pressing himself full-length against her. She could feel him through the thin blanket--the hardness between his legs. She tried again to get away and he let out a soft chuckle, slipping his other arm under the blanket and hugging her almost painfully.

"Good morning," he spoke softly into her hair.

"Someone is knocking at the door," she told him, praying for something to drag him away.

He laughed again. After what seemed like forever, he stood. She was relieved and, a moment later, she was freezing. Teeth chattering, she sat up, pulling the blanket with her. Warder answered the door wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He greeted the person on the other side with a brief, "You're late."

"Your security measures made me late," the visitor answered. A young woman walked through the door. She was carrying two baskets stacked on top of each other and a bag slung over each shoulder. She stalked past Warder and placed the baskets on the table on the other end of the room from the bed. Next, she shrugged off one of the bags and left it lying on the stone floor. The other, she kept as she walked back towards Warder. She flung it at him with a shake of her thick red hair. "This was all I could get."

"All right," said Warder. He turned and set the bag down on his desk and closed the door she had left open. "Make breakfast."

The woman murmured something and headed back towards the table. She busied herself unpacking the smaller of the two crates, shifting the other to the floor. Lucy watched her, wondering despite herself at the relationship between this girl and Warder and what their easy interaction meant about life inside the mountain.

As she worked, Warder sat at his desk, pushing the bag to one side and taking out one of his notebooks. He wrote with intense focus, seemingly ignoring everything around him. The girl, too, seemed absorbed in her task. Lucy wondered if she even realized that she was there.

She sat quietly, listening to the scratching of Warder's pen and the sound of the girl mixing some kind of breakfast in metal bowls. After a while, Warder snapped the notebook shut and leaned back so that he could see the table.

"Set three places, Persephone," he said.

The woman, who had been occupied humming to herself, shot an annoyed glance over her shoulder first at Warder and then at Lucy. The quick way she leveled Lucy with her disapproval let her know instantly that her presence in the room had not gone unnoticed after all. She kept as still as possible, determined not to shrink away but also eager not to provoke a confrontation.

"Three?" the girl asked.

"If you wish to eat," Warder answered her, a warning note in his voice.

After another few minutes of loud clattering, the woman stepped back from the table. "It's ready," she said, flopping into a chair.

Warder had crossed the room and was now reading something that he had retrieved from one of the baskets. He finished reading it before taking his seat. "Come here," he said. He didn't even look in her direction.

Lucy took a deep breath. One. Two. Three. Four.

"Lucy?" he said sharply, interrupting her before she could get to five. She got up, leaving the blanket. She was still cold, but the shock of losing the heat of his body had dimmed and it was bad enough to face yet another person wearing one of Warder's shirts, much less wearing a blanket wrapped around her like a child.

She sat in the empty seat in front of a bowl of what looked like oatmeal. She wondered if the soup last night has been drugged like the juice. It must have been, because she could not imagine how else she could have slept for so long. It seemed unlikely that the woman--Persephone--would have doctored her breakfast. At least, if she had, the vitriolic look she had sent in Lucy's direction suggested that she should worry more about poison than a sleeping draught.

The three of them began to eat, each ignoring one another. Persephone's refusal to acknowledge Lucy telegraphed obvious disdain. Warder's distance was less intentional. He was actually ignoring them, absorbed in another piece of mail, unworried by their presence and his lack of interest in it. Persephone watched him closely, which gave Lucy an opportunity to watch her. While the woman had worked, she had been scowling, but now, watching Warder, she looked very young and very pretty. A thought occurred to Lucy. The way Persephone was watching Warder--it looked as if she cared for him deeply. Perhaps she wouldn't approve of the things Warder had done to her. Perhaps, despite her scowl, this woman could be an ally.

As if she were aware of her thoughts, Persephone looked in Lucy's direction. Lucy ventured a small smile. "Are you--are you his wife?" she asked, trying to keep her tone conversational.

Persephone looked as if she had been slapped.

"Of course not," said Persephone. "And anyways, we don't mate as you do, taking husbands and wives and pretending that two people can be everything to one another. We--"

"Quiet, Persephone." Warder didn't even look up from his mail.

Persephone snapped her mouth shut, her face flaming red. Lucy quailed at the hatred in her eyes and lowered her gaze to her plate. When she chanced another peek at Persephone, she saw that the woman was ignoring her now, too.

She was finished eating and with no one looking her way, she decided to chance leaving the table. If no one stopped her, she thought she might leave the room and keep walking until she was outside again and this nightmare was over. Her chair had barely scraped the floor when Warder's hand clamped over her wrist. "Stay," he commanded, as if she were a dog. He put down what he was reading and pushed back his chair. Persephone watched his every move, jabbing her spoon back and forth into the oatmeal left in her bowl.

Warder stopped at his desk and rifled through the bag Persephone had delivered. He took out a scrap of white fabric and shook it out, revealing a summery white dress. "She'll freeze," he said, looking at Persephone.

Persephone shrugged. Warder raised an eyebrow. Then, he tossed her the dress along with his jacket that had been draped over the desk chair. "She can wear these," he said.

Persephone looked at the jacket with dismay, running a finger over the fabric. She glared at Lucy and wadded the dress up into a ball, slapping it onto the table. Then she set the jacket next to it, more gently, folding it so that it wouldn't fall onto the floor.

"I have to go," said Warder. "You know what you're supposed to do, Persephone?"

"Yes," said Persephone. "Although I don't know--"

"Stop," said Warder. "The limit has been reached."

Persephone snapped her mouth shut. Then, she looked at him beseechingly. "It's all very strange," she said.

"Strange that I should ask you to follow my orders?" asked Warder. "It seems very much the same to me."

"Yes, Warder," said Persephone. "I'm sorry."

"All right," he said. Without another glance at either of them, he left, locking the door from the outside.

The room was silent in his wake, more tomb-like than ever. Lucy opened her mouth, thinking that she might speak, and closed it again realizing that there was nothing at all to be said. She wasn't accustomed to living without any idea of how things worked. The island had rules and a rhythm. Everything was clear. Everyone knew their place--among themselves and in relation to the ghost-like warriors inside the mountain, unseen but ever-present in the fear they provoked in the people below. Now, she was inside the mountain and nothing made sense. Not being there. Not the way she was treated. Warder and his menace and distance. And now, this strange girl who--

"I hate you, just so you know," said Persephone, cutting into her thoughts.

"Okay," said Lucy. At least that was one thing firmly in place.

Persephone sighed loudly and shook her head, as if this perfectly stupid response only confirmed her feelings. "Stay out of my way while I work," she said. "And don't talk to me."

I don't want to. Lucy thought. But she decided to keep that to herself. Persephone was bigger than her--tall and strong as all the mountain people were, if the ones she had met were any indication. And she was near-naked, freezing and alone. If she had no hope of making friends, out of the way was exactly where she wanted to be.

#

The abandoned power plant was a good distance from the islander's homes. And that was at least twice as far as Miles was willing to go without complaining, even for the possibility of sex.

"You know this power plant has been dead for years," he said, picking through a boggy stretch of the path and then reaching out to lift her over it.

Sheera ignored his outstretched arms and leapt nimbly over the mud, skipping gracefully between two conveniently placed stones.

"Abandoned places are interesting," said Sheera. "Tourists loved the old lighthouse."

"You don't remember tourists," said Miles.

"Neither do you."

"I'm older than you," he said. "I remember the tourists. And I remember when they showed up."

"You couldn't have been more than two, Miles."

Miles shrugged. His gaze went to where the mountain peaked over the trees. "You don't forget a thing like that."

When the twisted frame of the power plant finally rose before them, Sheera was tempted to blaze forward, tearing apart the windows until she could get inside. Instead, she sat still on a stump and studied the building, trying to place landmarks using her memory of the blueprints she had stolen from her father's files. He was fascinated by another technological and he had an archive of what little the island had to offer in that regard.

"What are we really doing here?"

Miles's voice broke into her thoughts. He stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the power plant and she let out a low growl of annoyance. "I told you I wanted to go for a walk."

"Yeah," said Miles. "With you, that either means a fuck or a mindfuck."

"Then why'd you come?"

Miles shook his head. "To try to stop you from doing anything stupid."

That was incredibly fucking frustrating. Miles, fashioning himself as protector. And yet--in Lucy's absence, she needed a steady hand. That's why she had really chosen Miles instead of anyone else.

"You think you're good at remembering things? Do you remember how the islanders boarded this place up after the island was taken?"

Miles shrugged. "Like you said, I wasn't very old."

"Why do you suppose a bunch of people who had just been cut off from the outside world, with winter coming, would waste every spare bit of lumber on boarding up a suddenly useless power station?"

Something flashed in Miles eyes, a hint of his easygoing demeanor giving way to a spark of avid interest. "That's actually a good question. Why do I think I probably don't want to think too much about that?"

"It's because somewhere in there," Sheera gestured to the plant, "there's a connection to the mountain. Maybe not a good one since there's no proof they've ever used it," Sheera admitted. "But it's there. And it's my way in."

"No matter how you go in, Sheera, you'll get caught. You might as well march through the gates and make it quick."

"No," said Sheera. "My only chance is that they don't know I'm coming."

Miles shook his head and looked at her with something much too close to pity. "You've been caught once before."

Sheera didn't answer that. Because what Miles didn't know is that Sheera had ways of blending if she could get inside that mountain unseen. Ways of becoming the enemy so that she could kill them.

#

Out of the way proved to be a harder place to be than Lucy had expected. Persephone began her work by scooping up the breakfast dishes and banging them around in the bathroom sink. So, Lucy stayed at the table. A few minutes later, Persephone returned and shooed her impatiently away so that she could wipe the table with a wet cloth. Lucy retreated to the bed, which Persephone promptly ordered her out of so that she could make up the flimsy sheets.

Eventually, Lucy chose an innocuous bit of stone floor and sat there hugging her knees and rubbing her legs in an attempt to stay warm. At the moment, Persephone was carelessly packing clothes from the larger basket into the chest of drawers. Lucy thought of the way that the clothes had looked when she'd stolen the shirt--clean, but carelessly arranged. It seemed that Persephone played some kind of housekeeping role for Warder, and did so carelessly. Was this kind of help the best that could be expected in their society? Or was there some reason Warder kept her? Perhaps, he was of low status. Or, more likely, the relationship between the young woman and the young warrior was more than that of helper and helpee. Persephone looked more suitable as a model than a housekeeper, after all, with her long, pale legs and fiery hair. If her face weren't fixed into a permanent frown, she would be beautiful.

She said she wasn't his wife, but her odd answer to the question hadn't really cleared anything up. The mountain people were said to be nearly as cold and strange in their dealings with one another as they were to the islanders. Perhaps this was how partners treated each other.

Lucy noted that Persephone did a decent job of straightening all the surfaces. She picked up a pair of Warder's sock off the floor and used some kind of sweeper on the rugs. But when she came across clutter, she simply swept it into a drawer or under the bed. It was the way Lucy had cleaned her room when she was a child--stuffing everything out of sight until the inevitable disaster of her mother looking inside of a dresser drawer or under a dust ruffle. Then, Lucy would really clean it up under her mother's watchful eye before starting the entire cycle over again.

Attention. We are at Level Three. Operation Level Three.

A woman's voice echoed through the room. Lucy jumped and looked at Persephone. She wasn't saying anything. In fact, she stopped cleaning to listen.

The voice sounded again, repeating the same words. When it finished, Persephone nodded and then looked at Lucy. "It's your fault," she said. "Not that you're so important, but anyone stupid enough to go climbing on our mountain would've caused trouble."

"What's my fault?"

Persephone didn't seem interested in enlightening her. "I guess I'm done with everything else," she said. "Let's go."

"Go?"

"Warder's orders," she said. "Fight me, and I get to physically restrain you." Persephone waited, as if hoping that Lucy would fight her. Instead Lucy raised her hands in a conciliatory gesture and shrugged slightly.

"All right," said Persephone. She was grinning. She picked a thin blanket out of the laundry basket, similar to the one that was now tucked in around the bed. She approached Lucy, watching her for signs of a reaction. When she reached her side, she held out a hand and Lucy took it. She was yanked to her feet and before she could stop it, the blanket was draped over her head. "He doesn't want you to see where you're going," she said.

Lucy just stood there. Weak, she reminded herself. As far as they're concerned, you're a weak, stupid girl who was captured for picking berries too far from the path.

It was becoming difficult even for Lucy to believe that she was anything else.

#

Persephone opened the metal door with a key--Lucy could hear it and filed away the knowledge that the woman had one. Then, she grabbed Lucy's arm through the blanket and began to drag her across a cold stone floor, indistinguishable from the floor inside Warder's room. Lucy followed obediently, hoping to be left alone to try to remember each turn that they took. Persephone made this difficult, distracting her by frequently jostling her or "accidentally" running her sideways against walls. Only once did it seem as though they passed near another person and they were gone before she could try to peek. Lucy did have the distinct impression that they were traveling upwards, but they never took any steps. Lucy knew for certain that she was right when her ears started to pop--she had never climbed so high, of course, with the mountain being forbidden, but she had heard that this could happen. And it had happened quickly, so Warder's room had to be high up, too.

How was she supposed to escape when she was so deep into a place she didn't know?

Persephone nearly tripped her again and Lucy reached out to steady herself. She couldn't find the wall and she fell, scraping her knees on the stone. Persephone sighed and dragged her to her feet. "He'll think that's my fault," she said when Lucy tried to rub her knee.

"It was," said Lucy, unable to help herself.

"Shut up," said Persephone. She pulled the blanket away, yanking Lucy's hair in the process. "We're here."

Lucy looked around, blinking in the dim light. Here, as in Warder's room, the light seemed to come from a ledge near the top of the wall. On the island, they didn't have electricity except in the town hall. But the houses had been built before the mountain people came and the lightbulbs were mostly left in place. Lucy had just never seen one actually working. She wanted to and she decided that she would use a chair to climb up and investigate the next time she was alone in Warder's room. Then, she realized that she was planning for a future where she was trapped in this mountain alone, and her curiosity died a quick death.