The Luminosity Series (Book 1): Luminosity (2 page)

Until
that night, I had always been terrified of death. But my sudden welcome of it
wasn’t a result of the crash. Suffering through the pain was nothing compared
to what the universe had in store for us. Just hours after the impact, an
announcement was delivered that would change everything—one that would unveil the
darkest disclosure in human history.

I
woke to the synchronized beat of inconsistent beeping coming from the machine
next to me. The oxygen pierced my lungs, like needles poking through a pin cushion.
Ignoring the tears, I struggled to turn my head, and when I did, the pain stunned
me into stillness. Judging from the complicated arrangement of tubes dangling
beside me, I’d be here for a while. The burning ache pumped through my body, my
heart rate accelerating faster from its impact. Chaos continued from outside as
I directed my focus toward the window to my left. Evan was pleading with a
nurse. Members of the emergency room staff flew past them in the hallways,
fighting to keep up with the instant demand of patients. Shouts and cries rung
in my ears—a confusing blur. But the desperation in Evan’s tone stood out
amongst it all.

“I
can’t leave! Please! I’m the only one who knows she’s here!”

“I’m
sorry, but we’ve been ordered to go into lockdown immediately,” the nurse
cautioned.

“No,
you can’t do that! It’s out of control out there! People need help!” His eyes
swelled as he gripped her shoulders.

“The
people outside are a threat to the patients’ safety. And that includes you. A
member of the National Guard will escort you back to your home where you are to
stay until things settle down.”

“No.
I—I won’t just leave her here like this!” His breathing quickened as she abandoned
him in dismay. He glared at the nurse inside my room before his eyes veered to
mine. The sight of me awake seemed to make him even more determined to reach
me. His persistence never was a good match for the barriers between us, and when
the nurse rushed out the door, he used her absence to his convenience, slipping
into the room and dashing to my side.

“It’s
okay,” he choked through the fear, striving to catch his breath. My blinking
was sluggish as he came into focus again. His face was weary, impatient, and
weak as he kneeled beside the bed, taking my hand. I wanted to face him, but
the neck brace was too heavy. Speaking was out of the question, my voice
inaudible behind the oxygen mask. Lifting my arm, I swept my weak fingers over
my aching face. Bruises pulsated along my jawline. The thick thread of stitches
trailed beside my eyebrow, leaving an everlasting scar that would surely serve
as distraction from my pale skin and dark, inky hair. My eyes grew larger,
releasing a cold slither of tears along my cheeks, stinging the injuries—a
sensation that reminded me I was still alive.

“Hey.
Look at me. You’re going to be okay,” he convinced in a heave, this time with
the onrush of confidence as he searched for an escape from the fear lurking in
his eyes. But while his presence comforted me, a jolting pain sliced through my
core. Without warning, the pressure of air speeding through my lungs pressed
against my chest with a force I couldn’t withstand. The heart machine jumped,
the beeps raging endlessly as he glared at it in terror.

“Aubrey?
What’s wrong?” But he didn’t wait to find out. “Someone help! Please! She needs
help!” Racing out into the hall, he pressed his hands against the sides of his
head in panic. His distressful screams continued, ringing down the busy hallway
before help arrived. Now, in a sudden refusal of acceptance, I pried my eyes
open as a nurse shouted out the doorway.

“Get
a doctor. She’s going into shock!” the nurse warned a team in the hallway. This
only made him resist their orders to leave even more. “Aubrey, you need to try
and relax, okay? We’re here to help you,” she said, approaching me.

“Hold
on, Aubs. Just hold on,” he panicked with wide eyes, eager to reach me. But
getting past the barrier of flustered nurses proved useless.

“Sir,
it’s time to go!” A police guard pulled him back. He was armed, dressed in a thick,
black uniform and helmet, unlike the normal, on-duty officers we’d see around
town.

“No!
You have to let me stay here! Please!”

Without
forewarning, a team of doctors hastened down the hallway, their footsteps slapping
against the shiny hospital floor before rushing into my room. Now, urgent
voices and movement surrounded me. My bed rolled down the hall as the weight of
my heavy eyelids blinded me. But I could still see light behind them. Evan’s
shouts grew more desperate as he struggled to break free from the added
security guards pulling him back several feet behind me. Numbness overtook me,
drifting me into darkness again. After so much pain, I didn’t think I could
hold on. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. And the last image I saw was the glint of
fluorescent light before everything faded.

♦  ♦  ♦

After
losing track of the incomprehensible days spent in recovery, I woke to a fuzzy
vision of dying orange roses—like the ones my mother grew near the garden. They
sat lifelessly on the table beside me, soaking in the golden light glaring in
from the window, the rays revealing a sea of dust particles in the air, then
disappearing again like fireflies. My bones still throbbed from the impact, but
at least my energy seemed better.

When
I built up the strength, I adjusted the bed to an upright position. To my
relief, the shouts and screams outside had vanished, replaced with a hollow,
bitter calm.

The
door squealed open, breaking the silence as Evan reappeared. I didn’t expect to
see him after that night. Nor had he expected to see me, I assumed. It took
several glances to accept this was real, his face frozen upon standing there,
never once blinking. Beaten by the elements, his tired posture reflected the
outside world—messy, weary, and broken. His hair looked dirty, unwashed in a
tangle of wavy strands, just like the night he brought me here. The image of it
triggered fragments of my memory—the auroras, the accident, the pain.

He
swallowed as he strolled closer.

“Hey.”
He cleared the grogginess from his throat. I turned my head away from him,
hiding the emotion that accompanied his presence. After dragging a chair beside
the bed, he leaned forward to gaze at the floor, contemplating something. His
expression tensed, struggling to witness my fragile spirit. “You’ll be okay
this time. I promise.” He snapped out of scrutiny as he watched my eyes fill to
their capacity.

“What
happened?” I asked. He took a deep breath, searching for a believable
explanation.

“You
were in a car accident. I found you lying upside down off the side of the road.
You don’t remember?” His dark eyes threw me a heavy glance. My eyelids
fluttered in denial as I shook my head. “They brought you here not long after I
got to you. You’re lucky to be alive, Aubrey.” He clenched his jaw tightly,
struggling with the emotion that followed. Then, without wanting to, I exploded
into tears in front of him. He shot up from his position, catching me as I
leaned forward, gasping on air. Several moments passed before I collected
myself again.

“How
long have I been here?”

“A
week…” He took his seat again.

“It’s
been that long?” My eyes swelled at his nod.

“When
they wheeled you into the trauma unit, I thought for sure you wouldn’t make it,
Aubrey…” His voice tapered off to a whisper. My heart raced again at the
flashbacks of the accident, hoping to remember how it happened. “They said you
were lucky to have gotten here when you did.”

He
released a quick breath.

“How’d
you know to come after me?”

“You
never returned my calls or texts.” He turned his head to obscure his emotions.

“How
did this happen?” I asked in a confused grimace. He rose from his chair hastily
to pace the floor.

“We
should focus on your recovery right now. We can talk about the details of the
crash later.” His tone startled me as he faced the small, rectangular window
situated high along the wall.

“Was
this my fault?” My lips trembled.

“No.
The other driver hit you. He—he died at the scene.”

“All
I remember were cars pulling over on the highway, and… the sirens...” A tear
fell as I spoke.

“You
should be fully recovered before I explain.” He raised his voice, letting out a
troubled sigh.

“Why?
Don’t I deserve to know why I’m here?” His resistance only elevated my
curiosity. With worried eyes, he glanced back up at the window, his breathing accelerating
before its release.

“Isn’t
knowing you’re alive enough? You could have died, but you didn’t…” He sighed in
frustration, cutting off his sentence. Evan never spoke to me this way—so
rattled, so dismissive, and so insensitive.

“Evan,
what’s wrong with you?” A tear fell from my grimace. He shook his head, knowing
I wouldn’t quit without a thorough explanation.

“I
should have opened my mind to the possibility the second I saw it.” He blinked
harshly.

“Saw
what?” I asked. Then, the memory of it returned—the guard, the helicopters, the
glow in the sky. “Please... just tell me.” He paced back and forth from one end
of the room to the other. Already, I grew tired of his delay.

“The
rumors about the sun… they’re not a hoax, Aubrey. They’re real. That’s why you
heard the sirens, and why that car hit you… Everything those people warned us about
is coming true.” He focused his attention to me in hesitation, my heart pulsing
at his weighty look.

“What
do you mean? How is it even possible?”

“I
don’t know, but it is,” he said. “NASA confirmed the discovery the night of
your accident. The whole world knows now. The President called in the military
to protect against a panic. Obviously that didn’t stop it.” He swallowed with
an afflictive glance. I stared back at him, lifeless, weak, and empty. The
sudden realization paralyzed me as his dreadful eyes reunited with mine. “Aubrey,
they’re giving us about a decade before we have to evacuate,” he said gingerly.

“What
do you mean a decade? Evacuate to where?” I expelled in a shriek, catching the
concerned look of a distressed nurse passing by.

“Shh…
We don’t know yet. That’s what they’re trying to figure out.” I closed my eyes
after aiming my head down, refusing to believe it. “Riots are happening all
over the country. The President’s address has been replaying on the news ever
since,” he said.

After
my curiosity took over, I refused to tune into the television in the hopes the
possibility would go away. It hadn’t.

“How
long have they known about this?” A tear slid along my cheek.

“I
don’t know, but people are claiming this was classified knowledge, that this
was never meant to get out to the public. A lot of houses and shops were looted
in the last few days. The hospital was in lockdown since the night you arrived.
I spent the past week waiting by the barricades outside just to get in to see
you. I didn’t even know if you were alive,” he sighed, shaking his head as his
voice rattled. I squeezed my eyes shut as I pushed the tears from their corners.
Hunching over in the bed, I tended to the onset of nausea. Inside me was an
abyss, sucking the life and energy from every pore in my body. Ignoring the
pain in my chest, I glanced back up at him.

“Wait
a minute… so the military is still here? For how long?” I asked.

“For
however long they need to be, I’m guessing. There’s a citywide curfew in
effect. They’re telling everybody to stay off the streets until the situation
is under control. The President is planning to speak about preparation efforts
later this week. But I don’t want you to worry. You need to recover. That’s why
I didn’t want to tell you yet.” He took a few steps away while I processed
everything.

Evan
was stubborn, choosing not to leave my side, as if he knew how broken I was
about to become. After choking down the assortment of bland hospital food
beside me, I glanced outside the doorway. Several police officers and military
personnel stood in the halls. One spoke to the doctor treating me, striving to
get answers about my accident. They paged through a series of papers, confused
about something, but I wasn’t sure what. When I turned back to Evan, there was
a glossy numbness manifesting in his gaze, like he needed a moment of denial. Not
that I could blame him.

Just
before dusk approached, my mother arrived. Evan stood up as she entered the
room, almost like he felt unwelcome with her around.

“Aubrey,
I’m so sorry! They weren’t letting anyone else in!” She rushed to my side in a
panic of black tears and messy hair to match them. Leaning down, she pulled me
from the back of the hospital bed, giving me a long, suffocating embrace. I
trembled before exploding into a deep, ugly cry. Evan walked to the window, lifting
his head back to view the auroras. The cosmic glow remained above us, still
hauntingly real. My mother sprung over to him, reaching out to deliver a hug.

“I
don’t know how to tell you how grateful I am... that you were there to save my
daughter’s life,” she said. Still in tears, the heartbreak of seeing him, so
expressionless, paralyzed her body, but gratitude overwhelmed her voice. Evan did
his best to hold himself together, his jaw twitching while he struggled to speak.

“She’s
more important than she thinks.” His eyes came back into focus now. Behind his
glance was a darkness I couldn’t figure out. My mother observed him in
suspicion as he exited the room, keeping his sight fixed on me through the large,
square window before disappearing from view.