The Luminosity Series (Book 1): Luminosity Page 16

  The auroras ignited in brilliant neon shades, illuminating the ground below. It became a moment of synchronicity—an alignment I had waited for. I promised myself a part of me would stay trapped in that moment forever. And with his returned affection, it seemed he would too.

  That night, after shutting the door to my room, I tip-toed to the window, the ground outside flooded by the aurora’s luminescence. I let out an exhausted breath and closed my eyes, contemplating what that night meant for us. How he still loved me after leaving him behind was still a mystery to me. But deep down, his existence proved that my fears were only a wall—a metaphor for our imprisonment. And I would spend the rest of my life tearing that wall down.

  Part 3 : Four Months Later

  20 ENIGMA

  It was late March—the beginning of the spring equinox—roughly four years since the publication of NASA’s discovery. It wouldn’t be long before we’d find out who was chosen. I was on favorable terms with the hospital again, reappointed to labor duties, but my confidence for being qualified for a colony was still just as hopeless. And even though my sister accepted her unexpected surprise gracefully, the increase of military in town horrified me. Knowing there’d be a greater probability she’d be found outweighed the purpose of taking the risk at all, but my mother was intent on battling for a chance to save her, no matter how little that chance. Still, she cried. Yet it seemed there was more than fear behind her sobs. And without warning, she began acting differently—quiet, almost. Other times, reckless. Now, I took Evan’s offer to stay with him more serious, but something about my mother’s newfound behavior prevented me from abandoning her again.

  After my mother left to pick up supplies that morning, I snuck into her room. Clenching the compass hard in my hand, my determination returned. After months of avoiding it, the mystery surrounding my father’s death begged to be laid to rest. On a mission, I set out to uncover the truth behind my hollow history, demanding to find a correlation between his death and our family’s secrets. I wasn’t sure what to look for, but I had to find something—anything that would bring me closer to the truth. My intuition screamed out at me, directing me into action.

  I started by opening the closet, searching high and low on the shelves above and below my mother’s racks of outdated clothing. I got on my knees, peering underneath the bed. Nothing. I searched under her pillows, between the boxes of shoes she had saved. Still nothing. Then, I dove into the closet again, noticing a collection of containers in the far right corner. Restless and determined, I lifted them with all my strength, dropping them onto the floor with a thump as I expelled an exhausted sigh.

  When I opened the first box, bundles of old developed photographs sat before me, all categorized by dates in white envelopes. I didn’t own any pictures of my father. For years, my mother claimed our family photos had been lost in a flood when I was eight.

  I let out a sudden breath at the possibility of finding his face on one of the photos, and in that moment I snatched an envelope, removing a handful of images in a hurry. But none of them had my father in them.

  I grabbed another stack. More of the same—my sister and I—my mother beside us in our old home. I was ten. Andrea was thirteen. Out of frustration, I dug to the bottom of the box, tossing the envelopes to the side carelessly. Before I realized, a mound had accumulated beside me. And when I looked back in the box—jackpot. Underneath everything else rested a different colored package that read “To Abigail” in aggressive, inked penmanship. But my mother’s name was Colleen. Not Abigail. I had heard that name before, though I don’t remember where. Throughout my childhood, I assumed it to be a distant cousin of ours, or an Aunt I had never met or known. We spoke little of our family since my father’s death, mostly to avoid the pain.

  Within the packet was a photo of a man and woman. The woman slightly resembled my mother, but was too pixelated for me to match up her features. The man was tall and pale, wearing a suit in every picture.

  I flipped through the pile in a rush. Most were pictures of the same two people standing inside a rustic house overlooking the mountains. In some of them, the woman looked pregnant, happy, wearing a wide smile. Then, a secluded old cabin came into view, the man sitting with the same woman, her strands a messy tangle of curls as she held a baby on her lap. But something seemed different about her appearance. Her expression grew empty in later photos, dreadful almost, and much too anxious—like she hid a deeper secret—like my mother.

  By the time I reached the last few photos, another feature caught my attention. In the next image sat a young girl with long, dark locks beside a boy with bronzy brown hair in the grass. In the background appeared a different couple, smiling, with the distinct gray and red cliffs of Cedar Ridge backdropped behind a residence built of logs.

  The girl resembled me clearly.

  Within seconds of examining her face, the onset of dizziness returned—a symptomatic and recurring response of post-traumatic stress. Understandably, I was told I’d live with PTSD for the rest of my life after the accident, after learning of the world’s end. Now, it remained a common burden amongst our people.

  I dropped the photographs as my ears rang, shutting my eyes with all my strength as my fingers trembled, the images shooting through me instantaneously.

  I was a kid again, laughing in a yard as the rays of sunshine struck down, running in circles, the boy chasing me. Evan.

  I stood in a garage, my mother crying, pulling me by the arm, telling me “We have to go away for a while” in a series of sobs. My mother.

  But it couldn’t have been possible. My eyes shot open to a distorted voice calling my name over the rapid, relentless pounding on the door. Janelle.

  “Aubrey! Aubrey, open the door!” she shouted in a panic outside. And within a second, I snapped back into awareness, folding the picture of the boy and girl into fours, shoving it into my pocket with the compass. As I stacked the envelopes in their places, the thumping prevailed.

  “Aubrey!”

  “Just hold on!” I yelled, trying to shake off the dizziness. After sliding the box back into place, I wiped away a worried tear, my eyes dancing around the room, making sure nothing was out of order. I sprang into the hallway, my hair swinging beside me as I flung the front door open, catching my breath. My eyes widened as Janelle’s nervous pacing across the porch came to a dead halt upon seeing me. She stood paralyzed in tears, her car’s engine still groaning behind her. “What’s going on?” I asked in a wince.

  “It’s Evan. You need to find him before he does something stupid!” She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my flesh without intention.

  “Ouch! What are you talking about?” I pulled myself back from her grasp.

  “He didn’t tell you? Evan’s cousins told Aaron he found a letter from Jake left under his door yesterday. Now we can’t find Evan anywhere. And Nick said he wasn’t at the fields,” she said in a rattled voice.

  “What did it say?” I asked, pulling on a sweatshirt hanging by the door.

  “I don’t know. But it had to be bad enough for him not to show up for labor duty again,” Janelle said.

  I recalled what Evan told me about Jake’s troubled past. Why Jake acted the way he did all made sense now, but it still didn’t make up for his violent confrontation, or his need to bring Evan down with him. And before I even had to think twice, I knew the only other place Evan could have disappeared to would be the blades.

  The memory of our night atop the wind turbine flashed me back to that moment, when everything seemed so perfect amidst the chaos. Now, four months after Jake and Evan’s belligerent brawl, I didn’t know what to expect.

  “I think I know where he is…” I said.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  After making our way through the Cedar Ridge barricades, I led Janelle to the cemetery. From there, we hiked the same narrow path Evan took me on that night.

  “We shouldn’t be back here,” Janelle warned in a vicious whisper.

  “Shh
…” I said, turning around to put a finger to my lips. “It’s fine. I’ve been out here before.”

  “What? This is insane. We could be in big trouble if someone sees us,” she said. And that’s when the crackling of twine and dead grass interrupted the silence, forcing us to stop. Janelle stayed quiet, frozen in her tracks with a flash of dread on her face. The only sound remaining afterward was the swooshing of the blades. “I’m not going any farther. I can’t do it, Aubrey… I can’t get in trouble for this, not after almost getting caught past the wall. I’m turning around.”

  Janelle pivoted in the other direction. In disappointment, I sighed as she made her way back to the cemetery, but I didn’t have the patience to stop her.

  The sun felt hotter that day, and when I gazed up at the wind turbines, I covered my face to shield it. I hoped to find him sitting up there, but instead, only the emptiness of sky lingered above. And then, I peered in front of me again. Wandering about one hundred feet down the path, I finally spotted him.

  I ducked under the droopy needles of a pine before making a beeline to catch up to him. Not far from him now, Evan swung around without warning. I froze in place from his unexpected appearance—his eyes bloodshot, tired, and guilt-stricken. On guard, he appeared ready to attack. But when he noticed me, his shoulders slumped, and he exhaled in relief.

  “What are you doing out here, Aubrey?” he asked in a somber gaze, his jaw tensing from his swallow as he clenched something in his fist.

  “Evan, what happened to you?” I asked, trudging up to him. His lack of enthusiasm stunned me, and after ignoring my question, my frustration heightened. “Janelle told me about the letter. What—what are you doing out here during the daytime? We’re so close to finding out if we’re assigned a colony, and you risk this now? Why?” I stopped him.

  “You wouldn’t understand, Aubrey.” He pulled away from me again.

  “What is wrong with you? Please just explain what is going on.”

  “You need to go back,” he sighed, sealing his eyes tightly to avoid me.

  “No, you need to tell me.” I budged ahead of him, his eyes peeling back open slowly, fluttering.

  “You have no idea what happened during the three years you were gone. How—how secrets and lies tore my family apart. I don’t know who or what to believe anymore. Is that what you wanted me to say?” he blurted out, recovering his breath as his exasperation continued, my legs paralyzed in their place as he shoved past me ahead of the trail.

  “I know what it’s like to have a broken family,” I called out, drifting several feet behind him. Evan stopped.

  “But you don’t know how messed up our families really are, or our situation is, Aubrey.” He shook his head in a huff as I approached.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” He clenched his fist tighter as he swallowed, afraid to speak another word.

  “Nothing. Just forget it.”

  “What do you have? Is that the letter?” I winced as I fought him for the crumbled piece of paper he crackled in his palm. He struggled to stop me, but when he noticed the distress in my eyes, he gave up control, as if it were no use fighting me anymore. He sighed before throwing himself on the ground against a nearby tree, his hand in a claw-like clutch against his forehead. I opened the letter, the sloppy handwriting forcing me to squint.

  “Evan,

  By the time you see this, I’ll have already left this place behind. I’m sorry for what I said. I thought you should know that. But you shouldn’t be afraid for me. You should be afraid for yourself. You still have time to get out… For now, I guess this is goodbye.

  Jake”

  “He left. So what? You knew this would happen,” I said, cringing.

  “It’s a suicide note, Aubs. He doesn’t know what he’s doing out there, or how to survive. The only reason he ran is because he thinks the colonies are a cover-up. He’s convincing himself of it, not because it’s true, but because he wants it to be so he has an excuse to die out there. I have to stop him,” Evan sighed.

  “No! You tried to do that once already. He’s made up his mind. There’s nothing else you can do,” I said in a raised voice.

  “But what if he’s right? What if this place isn’t as safe as they say?” he asked.

  “What do you mean? You don’t actually believe we’re safer out there, do you?” I shook my head in confusion.

  “No. But after what’s been happening, it forces me to question things every day.” Evan swallowed.

  “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “Ever since that second euthanasia clinic opened, more civilians have been disappearing around here, Aubrey. Haven’t you noticed? There’s less workers in the fields… less people at the food bank… I know you’ve seen it at the hospital…” he drifted off.

  “People are suffering. It makes sense for them not to want to live through this,” I said under my breath.

  “But they don’t make that decision spur the moment. Not after fighting to stay alive for so long. And not all at once, either. You saw the protesters down at City Hall. They were too pissed at our leaders to just suddenly give up the fight. But they’re gone. Something must’ve happened. Something big,” he argued.

  “You mean the colony selection letters?” I asked.

  “That, or they were forcibly removed…” Evan heaved. “Think about it, Aubs. Once people are disqualified, what more reason do they have to obey the authorities? And even if they do what they say, they turn into worthless citizens who end up using resources needed for the colonies. They become a threat. Why would the territory leaders keep them alive?” he asked in a low voice. By now, my heart rate picked up in speed. “I don’t want to believe it… but if that’s true, then we’re all in more danger than we thought.”

  “Did Jake get his qualification letter?” I asked, shaking off Evan’s words.

  “I have no clue, but it doesn’t matter. He didn’t think the colonies existed anyway,” Evan said.

  “Wait a second… didn’t Aaron tell the military about the tunnel access?”

  “As far as I know… yeah.”

  “Then how is Jake planning to escape?” I asked. Evan stood still before his breathing picked up. “Didn’t Aaron warn him?”

  “Oh shit…” he heaved in a horrifyingly deep sigh, his eyes enlarging in fear. Then, out of nowhere, he bolted past me.

  “What are you doing?” I called after him, the wind suddenly whistling through the trees as if to carry my words away with it. Evan spun around, walking backwards.

  “Aaron wanted him to get caught this whole time! He’s leading him into a trap! I have to go find him before it’s too late!” he shouted back at me as he raced toward the cemetery. Just then, in the calmness of the fading breeze, a pop of distant gunshots ricocheted off the mountain. Then, the rustling of branches and snapping twigs seized our attention as Janelle dashed in our direction. Evan stopped as she collided into him in a breathless panic, grabbing his arms to steady herself.

  “There you are! Thank god!” she gasped at Evan. “Something is happening in town! All the guards are down there! Hurry!”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  As we made our way back into town, military and police guards were overabundant, blocking the streets with barricades. Janelle parked the three of us into a secluded lot several blocks from City Hall. It wasn’t until she shut off the engine that we could make out the screams and cries of mercy coming from the hundreds of civilians now swarming the shaded streets.

  “Stand back! No one is allowed past the gate!” a guard yelled through a megaphone. Wide-eyed, we all got out of the car. Without sparing a second, I hurled toward the crowd to see what the commotion was about.

  “Aubrey, wait!” Evan tried to grab my arm to prevent me from running ahead, but I slipped away from his grasp, sandwiching myself within the swarm of protesters. I fought through the herd squeezing beside the barricades, shoving people out of my way to get to the front. Whispers inside the group rang in my ears, and sudd
enly Jake’s name slithered off the tongue of a nearby stranger.

  “His name was Jake Bennington. They don’t know if it was a suicide, or if he was killed by rebels. They found him lying outside the wall last night. Can you believe it? He just slipped past it! No one even knew how he got there! But I heard about a tunnel system that ran through the mountains! It sure doesn’t make me feel safe, especially with all the soldiers on guard out there! How could they miss that?”

  Suddenly, I twirled around to locate Evan. I inhaled deep, peering over the heads of strangers, annoyed and impatient in my agitation. And in that second, I caught a glimpse of the shadowed street ahead of the crowd. And there he was—Jake, on the ground, his eyes closed and his body without movement—his chest saturated in a puddle of blood, surrounded by armored guards.

  “I said stand back!” another guard yelled.

  “No…” I whispered to myself, covering my mouth, paralyzed with the sudden impact that we were too late, but not in the sense we thought we were. Jake was… dead.

  The crowd roared. People were divided again, many shouting at the guards, blaming them, casting out the word “murder” and other hateful slurs. Some clamoring about the rebellion. Others rejoicing, broadcasting their relief and appreciation for the guards protective security efforts in a wave of cheers. A few prayed in silence while the shrieks of terror in the crowd struck against nearby buildings, their messages repeating in the lingering echoes. After Evan’s horrified face reappeared beside me, a sharp pain smashed through me. I closed my eyes as the first gunshot sounded, snapping them back open upon impact. As I looked back at Evan, all I could make out was the contraction of his pupils. Janelle’s screams deafened me from behind. Jake’s body was being loaded up onto a truck as smoke grenades were released into the crowd. Then, a bang of more gunshots shuddered through the air. People pushed backward—the rush of the frightened crowd heading in our direction like a panicked stampede.