The Luminosity Series (Book 1): Luminosity (4 page)

As
summer came to a close, the side-effects of war had already unraveled in front
of us. I recovered from the accident as the news headlines invaded every screen
people could glue their eyes on. In healing, I waited while the rest of the
world watched the demonstrations of civil unrest unfold. Why I survived that car
accident made little sense after that. But it wasn’t the first time I
contemplated death, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Endless
addresses from the President would always be a distraction. And after four
months, the economy was on the brink of the largest collapse in human history.
When it began, some people left everything behind to run, blaming public
awareness for the impending catastrophe. Many took the warning as a reason to
prepare, stockpiling food and other essential items. And as more auroras
appeared in the night skies, society spiraled into chaos.

In
the beginning, fires broke out from power grids that left our cities without
electricity. But blackouts were only one of several common inconveniences,
forcing modern civilization to adapt. And as money became worthless, the value
of precious resources soared. The coming solar ice age would only put a
finishing touch on our destruction—leaving Earth’s surface an uninhabitable
wasteland. It was an astronomical certainty. The only thing standing in the way
now was time.

Many
people struggled to believe construction of the colonies would be finished
before the end. Even NASA couldn’t guarantee how long we had left. They only
made unreliable predictions we couldn’t trust. Ten years was a best-case
scenario—an attempt at comfort—to give the public hope and reassurance to push
forward toward a new day. As expected, suicide rates increased, and rebellion became
more common following the announcement. After the borders were up, we had to
stay calm and cooperative, or risk the consequences of disobedience. The ones
in control held the key to our survival, regardless of whether we wanted them
to or not. Now, the military lurked in the streets, outside homes, and along
stretches of highway. In each territory, they waited for their opportunity to
dispose of unruly civilians. Discarding them would benefit the masses,
increasing law-abiding citizens odds at being selected. As merciless as it was,
our government had counted on it. Everyone did. There wouldn’t be sufficient
resources for all, or enough space within the colonies. And as states divided
into territories, as cities were segregated with twenty-five foot iron walls
surrounded by guards and watch towers, we said goodbye to our old lives. Beyond
the barricades, interstates, through the desert and mountains, the land became
obsolete. As war continued, it grew into a wilderness—a world filled with
abandoned countryside and deserted ghost towns. Off the grid, you were as good
as dead.

Pharmaceuticals
struggled to keep up with the high demand for drugs. Many places of worship
held special services. Curfews served to ward off crimes. And with a fractional
education system, we learned how to adapt to the end of days. Most of the things
we once took for granted disappeared after the collapse—the indulgence of
shopping, dining, our obsession with technology. To my surprise, it hadn’t been
long before people became numb to it all. I guess after months of choking on
denial, that’s just what happens. You swallow. Now, we had no choice but to accept
that our lives were mere fractions of what we thought they’d be. And soon, only
a handful of us would survive within the depths of the earth—a vision that
continued to haunt my dreams.

♦  ♦  ♦

I
rushed in and out of the house that day, dragging the boxes from my room,
wincing at the lingering ache in my leg. Memories from the crash still returned
at random, reminding me of the impact. Carelessly, I kicked the heavy box
forward, pushing it to the edge of the stairway in frustration before sluggishly
forcing myself down on the top step to tend to the pain. I leaned my head
against the cool wall while the tears came. Depression had been a constant
struggle in the months after the news, but it wasn’t a trick that the chemicals
in my brain played on me. This was how I should’ve felt. In fact, it was how
many of us felt upon knowing our lives were ending. No surprise. There was no
use fighting it anymore.

I
wrestled the bags of clothing into the trunk of my mother’s old, rusty car. As
I dried my tears, gravel crunched under the weight of tires approaching along
the driveway behind me. Without looking, I scurried back into the house to hide
the mess I created. I hoped my tidiness would soften the blow when she found
out my intentions. But it was Evan who paid me an unexpected visit, which was
even worse.

I
peered at him from my bedroom window as he got out of the old, red jeep. Clenching
my eyes shut, I took a deep breath, knowing how difficult it would be to face
him, to tell him. And after the thud of slow footsteps on the porch came a loud
knock on the front door. Now, I had no choice but to confront him. I hesitated
down the stairs, trying to appear as casual as possible as he stood before me,
his worried glance indicating his suspicion.

“Hey.”
He looked around behind me, denying the emotion that wanted desperately to show
through. “I figured I’d drop by to see if you were… alright.” He swallowed in
worry.

“I
was just cleaning up,” I said, finding comfort in knowing it was only half a
lie, trying to sound calm. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“Can
I come in?” he asked. I hesitated before pulling the creaky porch door open for
him. With the squeal of its rusty hinges, I prayed he didn’t notice anything
out of the ordinary. “Listen, it’s been a month since you’ve left this house.
Are you okay?”

“If
I told you I was, would it matter?” I muttered, looking down.

“You
don’t have to deal with this alone. And I—I guess I just want to know what
happened between us.” We exchanged a sad glance, tears now flooding my eyes as
a result. “Everyone keeps asking me if you’re okay. It’s dangerous out here.
We’re… scared for you,” he said.

“Yeah,
well, I’m scared for them too, okay?” I said in a raised, shaken voice. Just
then, he took a step closer, wrapping his arms around me before looking back
down again. But I wished he hadn’t.

“You
don’t have to feel responsible for feeling like this, or about your mom. I’m
just worried about you. I don’t want to lose you sooner than I already have to,
that’s all,” he said. I closed my eyes, swallowing away the tears.

“You
know we can’t do this anymore.”

“Do
what?” he asked, beaming at me in alarm as he swept his thumb across the scar
from the collision, pushing my stubborn strands away from it.

“This.
The odds of making it into a colony are completely against us.” Tears forced
their way down my cheek.

“We
don’t have to worry about the colonies yet.” He winced.

“How
do we know that? You’ve heard the news, Evan. They aren’t sure how quickly it
will happen.”

“Maybe
not… but we’re still here now. That’s all that matters. We can still live while
there’s time,” he said.

“No,
that’s the thing. There is no more time.” I pushed him away in frustration.

“What’s
going on? What is the box for, Aubrey?” he asked, blinking at the forgotten clothes
on the floor.

“I’m
leaving. Okay?” I hadn’t meant to say it, but the words forced themselves out
like vomit. And the thought of lying to him only made my stomach flip even more.

“What?
Where? Where do you think you’ll go?” he asked, wincing in defeat.

“My
transfer request was approved. My sister is letting me stay with her and her
husband in Grand Junction while things blow over. I’m sorry.” I gazed at the
floor. He stared at the wall as his jaw tensed up in confusion.

“Are
you coming back?” But he already knew the answer.

“Not
if they enforce more travel restrictions. And with my mom joining in with the
protesters downtown, I might ruin my chances at qualification here. I can’t be
held accountable for her actions.” His eyes darted back and forth, trying to
process what I’d told him.

“But…
Aubrey, you can’t just leave her like this. What if she does something worse?
She’s already unstable. What if she gets into more trouble when she finds out
you left?” he asked. On the inside, I panicked, knowing his concerns were reflective
of my own.

“You
can’t help people who refuse to help themselves, Evan. I—I can’t put up with her
actions anymore...” I backed away before darting up the stairs in guilt. He
chased after me as I stormed into my bedroom. Tears streamed from the sides of
my cheeks as I lifted a heavy box from off the floor to distract myself from my
remorse. When I spun around, he was standing in front of me. Crashing into him
sent the bottom of the box into collapse, a pile of clothes tumbling to the
floor, accumulating at my feet. In an instant, I twisted back around, the stick
straight strands from my long ponytail whipping in a daggering circle as I
forced my eyes closed. I was desperate to regain control, but the overpowering
emotions kept flooding out of me as I listened to Evan’s rapid breathing.

“What
about me? What about the people who care about
you
, Aubrey?”

“I
can’t stay here,” I repeated dully.

“So
that’s it? You’re just going to leave us all behind?” His turbulent voice echoed
loudly throughout the room, shuddering me with guilt.

“My
sister was right about my mother all along. She’s going to rebel. It’s not safe
here with her,” I said.

“Then
let me go with you. Come on. You don’t have to do this alone,” he suggested, glancing
at the mess on the floor.

“Yes
I do,” I said. “And I can take care of myself without you running after me all
the time.” I shook my head. He seemed startled by my impulsive response.

“If
I hadn’t run after you that night, you could have died,” he snapped. I examined
him in shame.

“Things
are different now, Ev. I can’t recover from something like this. It doesn’t
work that way,” I said. My mother couldn’t recuperate from her
self-destruction, either. Being permanently damaged was the one thing her and I
had in common now.

“You’re
scared. I get it. But you’re risking everything. This isn’t something you can
run away from, Aubs...” he panicked.

“And
you believe we can pick up where we left off and be happy again? Like somehow
pretending this isn’t real will justify what’s happening? You’ve already wasted
too much of your time trying to change the things that won’t matter when this
is over, so… just stop,” I said.

“Wasted
my time? Is that what you think I did with you?” he asked, shaking his head in
a wrath of disgust.

“It
doesn’t matter...” I crouched down, grabbing another

box
before sliding past him. He glared at me, his lungs digging deeper for air. As
I stepped down the stairs, he bolted ahead of me, blocking the door.

“Evan,
please get out of the way,” I begged.

“I
saved your life. That hardly qualifies as wasting my time. And running won’t
make this any easier for you,” he stormed.

“Neither
will staying here.” I withdrew my glance. That was where he drew the line,
throwing his hands backward in a rage of defeat.

“So
from now on, nothing matters to you? You’re just going to throw your life away?
Is that it?” he lashed out.

“I
can’t just forget about this like you can. And getting our hopes up about a
future that might not exist will only cause more suffering.” I spaced out.

“We
don’t have to forget anything. And right now I don’t give a shit about the
future, I care about now,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder in
desperation.

“Why
hold onto something if it’ll only end up meaningless in the end?” I exhausted
in tears, forcing his hand away from me.

“Because
sometimes… that’s just how life works, Aubrey. Things end. And right now is all
we have left, regardless of the past, regardless of how shitty and hopeless our
future might be,” he hissed, looking around. I stood motionless as his words rung
through me.

“It’s
too late, Ev… It always was,” I said. A disgruntled glare preceded his backward
steps. I lifted my eyes in dread, my hands quaking as I wiped the tears away.

“You
know what? One day you’ll realize your world only ended because you made the
choice to end it yourself,” he snapped, turning his back to me. My lips
trembled as he trudged off. My head pounded in sync to the slamming of his car
door, the violent thrashing of gravel beneath his jeep forming a familiar cloud
of dust.

A
part of me wanted to listen to him—to stay, to face this together. What he
didn’t understand was that clinging to the things that mattered would kill me
every day until the end, each in a more painful way than the last. I couldn’t
do that to myself, nor would I do it to him. To move forward, they told us sacrifice
was necessary, and that included relationships. There was no choice now. We
couldn’t hold onto the could-haves or would-haves. We couldn’t pretend we had a
chance. And holding onto possibility would only make the truth harder to
swallow.