The Luminosity Series (Book 1): Luminosity Page 7

  “I’m fine, but it sure is nice to know you’re still alive. Rumor has it things got pretty wild in other cities. I wasn’t sure if you were okay. What happened to you? How’s your mom?” she asked.

  “Nothing. And I don’t want to talk about her. Not here.” I shook my head, wishing I hadn’t sounded so blunt.

  “Don’t worry. It was rough for everybody when we first started labor duty. It isn’t easy getting used to seeing what we see here. And as much as I’d like to forget this place, I don’t think I ever will,” Janelle said.

  “Apparently people haven’t forgotten my mother either.” I glared at the other whispering nurses across from us. Janelle sighed.

  “Don’t mind them. It wasn’t up to them to decide how she was punished,” she said.

  “Punished? She didn’t need to be punished. She was already on the chopping block,” I snapped.

  Just then, Janelle glanced toward the girl who stood ahead of me in line upstairs, her cold eyes staring back at us.

  “Do you work with that girl or something?” I asked. Janelle looked back cautiously and took a deep breath before replying.

  “That’s Evan’s cousin, Kylie.”

  “What? I thought the rest of his family lived in Boulder?”

  “They do. But she’s been here ever since last year. Apparently he has another cousin who is in town staying with him too. They were transfers like you.”

  “So… Evan’s still here?” I asked with swollen eyes. Janelle nodded in hesitation.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No… I haven’t—I haven’t been out much since I’ve been here,” I said in a cringe.

  “Yeah, he’s living at his dad’s old place,” she said. “Something horrible must’ve happened with his mother. He doesn’t speak to her anymore, even now with what’s happening. It’s just sad. They had some sort of falling out, and no one knows why. Kylie doesn’t get it either. And he won’t talk to anyone about it. You know how guys are.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, you must have an idea…” I said curiously.

  “I think she tried to sway him into transferring to Boulder where the rest of his family lives. But Evan wouldn’t leave. Not after his father was buried here…”

  “No, I—I guess not. How’s he doing otherwise?” I asked.

  “He’s good. I mean, whatever good means. Right?”

  “Is he a guard now?” I asked.

  “No…” Janelle’s voice tapered off. “He chose to work at the supply fields instead.” Her focus fell to the floor. And with that, my heart skipped a beat.

  “What? Why?” My eyes were wide.

  “I think he was afraid of being deployed to another territory. He’s had a hard time coping, Aubrey. A lot of his friends who used to be here are gone,” she said.

  “Who else is left?”

  “Me, Aaron, Jake…and if you want to count Evan’s cousins…” she said.

  “What are they doing for labor duty?” I asked.

  “Aaron is with border patrol at the perimeter most of the time, but his duties change according to their command. Luckily he wasn’t on duty tonight or I’d be worried sick,” she sighed. “Jake got temporarily suspended of his benefits. I guess because of his depression. And Evan’s cousin Nick is laboring at the fields.” I was unsure of what to say next. “You expected something different?”

  “I’m just surprised Evan didn’t enlist…” I blinked.

  “Same here. He could’ve worked with Aaron. But Jake’s issues got between them. After this all started, Jake was a wreck. And he still is… that’s why it’s impossible to trust him not to rat us out.” Janelle’s face tightened, and I could see she regretted her words.

  “Rat you out about what?” I asked. Janelle looked both ways before her expression narrowed with fear. She sighed as she closed her eyes and reopened them.

  “Okay, look, if I tell you, you have to promise you’ll keep this a secret,” she said in a breathy whisper, scouting out Kylie, who was now preparing her bunk.

  “Okay, I swear…” I hesitated, curiosity and alarm getting the better of me.

  “Follow me…” she said into my ear.

  Janelle led me through the crowd of nurses, who were now distracted. Their commotion served as a convenient diversion from the guards who assisted them in providing supplies. We watched tentatively over our shoulders as we slithered to a nearby wall, aiming toward another door. She scanned her security badge. The door clicked, signaling it had been unlocked. Aware of the guard’s preoccupation, we snuck through the doorway unnoticed.

  Inside was a large supply area, stocked with boxes of food neatly labeled. After closing the door, she grabbed my arm, leading me to the far corner where she pulled me to the floor, sitting against the shelves. The room was dark, only lit by the scarlet lights still blazing against the walls.

  “What is this about?” I asked. But when I glimpsed at her through the flared glow, she stared straight in front of her.

  “There’s a place that runs outside the border that no one else knows about. There’s a path we take that leads to the old campground we used to hang out at. It’s easy to get to, and entirely secret. I’ve seen it,” she said, blinking hard. Seconds passed before I spoke again.

  “What? Are you crazy?”

  “Shh. Be quiet,” she whispered in annoyance. I blinked in horror. Getting caught past the border was the highest form of insubordination, often resulting in death or oppression in the prison camps.

  “Aren’t you aware of what they do to people who try to escape?” I warned.

  “Duh, I don’t need a lecture, okay? I’m aware of the dangers. But it won’t stop us, so don’t bother,” she snapped. Us. The fear hit me as Evan came to mind.

  “Us? Who’s us?” I asked, dreading her answer.

  “Aaron, Evan… sometimes his cousins. Jake only just found out. But Evan was the one who discovered it,” she said.

  “What?” I heaved.

  “I shouldn’t have told you. He’ll kill me, especially since he doesn’t even know you’re here.” She shook her head in regret. I ignored her comment.

  “But how? The border is under constant surveillance. How do you get past it without being seen?” I whispered. Janelle analyzed me before speaking again.

  “There’s an old drainage tunnel within the mountain that runs underneath the border. It’s by a cave, hidden in plain sight. There’s weird markings along the tunnel, petroglyphs or something. None of us understand what it means, or who put the markings there,” she explained.

  “But wouldn’t they have blocked it off? Someone else has to know about it,” I said.

  “That’s the best part. The military doesn’t know it’s there. They say they built the border on the opposite side of the mountains to use them as extra protection from the rebellion, right? But they overlooked one minor detail when the built the wall,” Janelle said.

  “What if it’s a trap? What if they’re waiting for someone to get caught?” I warned, my breathing rate increasing.

  “Guards never go out there. Not unless they have a reason to. But we’re not stupid. Aaron knows which nights they patrol the area,” she scowled.

  “But doesn’t this mean people from the outside could cross into our town? How did Evan even find it?” I asked.

  “Shh,” she whispered. “He claims he saw someone out there late one night. He thinks he witnessed an escape.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “Well, the mountains are practically in his backyard, so he has a good vantage point. He said he woke up during a storm, and the lightning got so bad he saw a man’s shadow moving along the trail. So he snuck out and walked all the way up there. He found the tunnel, but not the person who escaped.”

  “Why didn’t he go to the authorities?” I asked.

  “Because he was curious himself. It was a bold move, but then again, what do you expect? He always lets his curiosity take over,” Janelle explained with an eye roll.
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  Evan was much like his father, a risk-taker, a thrill-seeker. After his father’s tragic canyoneering accident, I figured he’d change his ways. But it only made Evan’s hunger for danger more intense, maybe to make it easier for himself.

  “Couldn’t you convince him it was a bad idea? This isn’t funny, Janelle. You guys could be caught by military, or worse, rebels. This isn’t a game!” I lashed out in a whisper.

  “I tried to, but you know how he is. And I get how dangerous it is. We all do. But it’s also an incredible release from this place…” she said with a wince.

  “A release? What you guys are doing is risking your lives… It goes against regulations, and it’s wrong that the tunnel is even there. It poses a threat to all of us,” I argued. Janelle sighed.

  “And you have a good basis to judge right from wrong nowadays? Think about what this hospital does. They pull the plug on our patients. They lethally inject people if they see they’re too sick. They let them die because they’re using too many resources to be kept alive,” she said.

  “But… that’s… different…” I said, unsure of my words.

  “Yeah? What if they hadn’t spared your mother for what she did? The only reason she’s still alive is because she has access to crops that help serve our township. They don’t care about the people, Aubrey. They care about resources. And I imagine you know what they’re doing inside this place is wrong. We all do, but we’re forced into ignoring those morals. The tunnel gives us an opportunity to break away from that. Don’t you ever wish you could be free again?” she asked.

  “Well, yeah, but… it’s hard to want those things when it threatens our future,” I said.

  “Threatening our future is how they keep us all in line. But do you honestly think we have a fighting chance at a future after this?” she asked.

  “I don’t know anymore,” I sighed.

  “Wow, you really have changed, haven’t you? I mean, you ran away from this place to begin with because you knew how this was going to go. Out of all people, you should understand,” Janelle said, ending her words with a snap as tears formed in her eyes. I stayed silent, replaying her words in my mind, unable to find the will to defend myself. “Look, no matter which side of that wall we’re on, we can’t forget we’re all in this together. I still don’t understand how the world became so divided. And sometimes I’m not sure which side I’m on, if you know what I mean,” she said. I paused as I reflected on her words.

  “I’m sorry I left…” I said. She turned to face me again.

  “I know why you did.”

  Janelle sighed before we heard the sudden sound of the door creaking open. Stunned, I jolted my head around, bracing myself for trouble as a white light shined on the two of us.

  “Hey! You ladies shouldn’t be back there! Get out of there before I turn you in for insubordination!” the guard yelled. Janelle and I shot up from our positions, and as we hustled back out into the room, a sense of exhaustion overcame me.

  There was no telling how long we’d be waiting for the lights to come back, or for the green light to signal it was safe again. Windstorms came with no warning. And when they occurred, people seized the opportunity to loot. When our security failed us, the only thing we could do was hope that the power to the generators returned before people took advantage. But no matter how risky it was, some had no choice. Time was running out, along with our resources, along with justice and equal rights. And that’s the moment I realized I couldn’t continue to wait around for things to change.

  9 REUNITED

  Once vast farmland, the fields had transformed into a multitude of dome-shaped shelters and warehouses. Beyond the tents stood several massive warehouses built for defense transportation. All were positioned in single file order, separated by dirt roads for traffic to pass through. Along the road, most of the cargo trucks served as shipment for supplies that would either go to the colonies, or to the evacuation camps. The fields also housed our military recruits, the ones who defended our city, and our territory. Surrounded by its own series of chain-linked and barbed wire fences, the land showed its barrenness and neglect. Several guards settled past the gates at the entrance. Many served as watchdogs to the fences. It resembled a true prison, with slaves to perform the dirty work. Even after three years, I still couldn’t believe the sight of it.

  I swallowed as I put the car in park, still watching out the window in astonishment. A bitter pang thrashed in the pit of my stomach, like I hadn’t accepted the outcome until now. Sandbags, barrels, and extensive shipping containers all spread out by the freight trucks, ready for loading. I imagined what other materials existed amongst it all. Not that it took much imagination. Then, I noticed the escapee trucks—an array of black, caged vehicles designed to seize and haul captives who had done wrong. Only these sat unoccupied, waiting to be useful. Janelle didn’t understand why the world was so segregated. Sometimes I didn’t either. And as I looked away, I shuddered at the nightmare of how many tortured, desperate souls had dwelled in it, and how many soon would.

  Upon standing up out of the car, an eruption of chaos became instantaneous. Soldiers yelled from a distance, the explosion of truck engines and helicopters filling the seconds between. I waited as a chopper lifted from a nearby landing pad. The wind from its ascent sent my long strands into a raging fury, leaving them draped around me like a scarf once it passed.

  As I neared the fence, laborers in protective uniforms waited in an assembly-like line for supplies. I always thought the uniforms made them look like ghosts—white, vaguely resembling the hazmat suits the CDC used to use to protect against the spread of virus, only without the ridiculously disturbing face mask. But now, it didn’t matter who got sick. The only thing threatening enough for them to protect us from was our sun, it seemed.

  On occasion, recruits ran by, reporting for duty at the depots. As my eyes tracked them, I detected the familiar thick, golden brown hair sifting amidst the billowing dust. My feet stopped as I recognized who it was. Just as I suspected, Evan stood in the fields, still an ordinary slave-like civilian like the others.

  After three years, his familiarity was subtle. Dressed in his dirty white uniform, despair had taken him. In getting a better look, his bone structure mirrored the definition in his face, but he seemed stronger than before, lifting supplies onto a cargo truck with ease.

  As he removed the sun goggles, his gaze wandered as he let out an exasperated breath, squinting in the early evening sun. Seeing him almost seemed surreal. He looked serious, worn out and faded, yet held the same determination about him, so focused on completing his task. As the minutes went by, I became so diverted by the chaos surrounding me, I hadn’t noticed him glancing in my direction. And when he saw me, the sudden urge to retreat came over me.

  I pulled my fingers from the fence, taking a few steps backward. But he had already dropped his goggles in the dirt and began trudging toward me. Only until after I threw myself back into the vehicle and started the engine had my eyes spotted him in the rear-view mirror. He was shouting my name, clinging to the chain links in frustration. But I couldn’t hear him, and I wasn’t ready to. I forced myself to look away as soldiers followed him, towing him backward, away from the fence. As I pushed the tears from my eyes, my relief to see he was still here overwhelmed me with hope again.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Above the town lied a mountainside neighborhood called Cedar Ridge—one that underwent a huge physical transformation after the collapse. This was where Evan lived. But no longer did it resemble a wealthy, thriving neighborhood that overlooked the beauty of the land. Instead, it became an unpleasant vantage point to the distress below.

  After the housing market collapsed, many residents lost their luxurious homes. Few didn’t, including Evan. But the signs of abandonment existed everywhere. Tree limbs hung down, snapped and doubled over onto sidewalks and lawns. Bushes and grass now overgrown and dried out. Rusty fences polluting the once lush green boulevards. And many hous
es acquired a red X that bled into the siding. Entrances were boarded up to protect against squatters. Some sustained desperate messages, begging for mercy. Others endured malicious anti-government blurbs or symbols. Still, it wasn’t as far gone as some of the poorer areas of the small city. Many of those places remained left to deteriorate, condemned after the collapse. This drove up our homeless population, which emerged a threat for the ones who still had property left to lose. But no matter if you had a home or not, trouble loomed. And as painful a sight as it was, I refused to give up on this place, no matter how damaged it appeared to be.

  I swallowed my pride as my mother’s old car puttered its way up the hill to the Cedar Ridge cemetery. Nowadays, burial grounds were guarded by military after recent bouts of vandalism plagued the town. These days, kids were oblivious to what the protesting and violence meant. Some became subjects of brutality after being influenced by their parents or peers. It only made me despise humanity even more. No matter how much we wanted equality, no matter what our government had hidden from us, no matter who was chosen for the colonies, the fact was we’d all face the same inevitable outcome—an end come too soon.

  In the long shadows of dying trees, I waited in front of his father’s grave, patient for the sun to set. The headstone read “Mark Eugene Maxwell, Beloved Father and Fallen Hero.” In disbelief, I calculated the years he had been alive, so few, but choked full of life. A tear sunk into the ground as I leaned down to rest the three orange roses I plucked from my mother’s old garden onto the grass beside the grave—one for each year of his death I missed since leaving. Crisp, dried out leaves gathered near my feet in the wind as I took a deep breath, recalling the funeral. In my mind dwelled the heavy-hearted chorus of the piano—a sad song chiming through the walls of the parlor. Evan stood behind the podium that day, his voice a painful recollection as he spoke his father’s eulogy. We were both nineteen at the time—much too young to say goodbye to a parent. His words flowed like a performance, woven carefully into a spiral of tangled sentiment. I knew he’d be a prisoner to those moments forever. Yet somewhere between our exchanged glances, something changed. Life became more to him. My presence was more valuable—our time at the cemetery spiraling into memories.