The Luminosity Series (Book 1): Luminosity (18 page)

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.

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low on the shelves above and below my mother’s racks of outdated clothing.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.”