The Luminosity Series (Book 1): Luminosity (9 page)

“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.

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.

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 houses 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.

Out
of nowhere, a snap of twigs and broken leaves interrupted the dead, silent air.
Alert, I snapped my head back to the side. It wasn’t that I hadn’t expected
he’d find me here, but the sight of him just feet behind me after so long startled
me. He wasn’t the same. He was quiet, a darkness overtaking him—an unfamiliar
weakness.
And when his presence hit me, his
expression faltered. I took in a breath, remaining motionless as he studied my
watery eyes, striving to find a sense of familiarity. In that moment, I
traveled back to the past, recalling his carefree smile. But the tears blurred
my vision with a cloudiness that made me lose sight of it.

“Hi
Evan...” I choked, failing to deny the emotions rushing back. He swallowed,
unable to speak as he inched closer. Memories fogged my brain, making me
weightless as one by one, the droplets rushed down my cheek. On the inside, I
panicked as he stepped beside me. His face stayed hard, cold, and unmoved by my
presence this time. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or relieved by my
attendance. And just as I looked upon the more grown-up version of him, his
exhausted, hoarse voice filled the silence.

“I
saw you at the fields yesterday. Why did you run? Do you think I’m stupid? That
I wouldn’t see you? What are you doing back here, Aubrey?” he asked, his
forehead creasing in resentment as he glowered at the roses on the ground.

“Janelle
told me you still lived here. I—I’m sorry,” I said, surprised by his reaction.

“Sorry
for what? For leaving this place behind, or for playing dead for three years?”
he asked.

“I
made a mistake by leaving. And I will never forgive myself for it,” I said,
frustrated by his stubbornness. He let out a heavy breath as I continued to
stand there.

“Look,
I can’t pretend I’m not still disappointed in what you did, so I don’t know
what you expect me to say,” he said, wincing as his voice faded. Tears rolled
down my cheek as I looked down. He seemed guilty by his initial reaction, but
his expression was still distant.

“You
could start by saying hi,” I said, wiping away the sorrow.

“Hi…”

“You
look different.”

Evan’s
hair was shorter now, and just like me, he had gotten skinnier. But his
physical strength provided the right level of distraction from it.
His expression softened as he continued to stare.

“Things
have changed. Even me,” he said. He watched me out of the corner of his eye as
I glanced beyond the fences surrounding the cemetery. “So are you staying this
time, or are you going back?” he asked.

“I’m
staying.” I blinked at the ground. After a brief pause, he spoke up again.

“Good,”
he said, analyzing me. He took a step closer as the breeze danced through my
long, shadowy hair, swirling in his direction.

“You
know, I didn’t expect to see you again... especially after everything that’s
happened past these borders,” he said, squinting as he stared out at the
horizon. “It wasn’t easy hearing the news... with all the riots and violence
going on,” he continued, tensing up. I swallowed as my eyes drifted away from
him, fluttering, yet desperate to stay focused.

“Evan…”

“I
didn’t sleep for months. Some days I even wondered if you died… like him,” he
said out of spite, nodding to his father’s gravestone. Grief was the one thing
he and I had in common. Both of our fathers left the world too soon.

“I’m
so, so sorry…” I choked out.

“You
didn’t have to leave, Aubrey,” he said, interrupting my guilt.

“I
didn’t know what else to do. I thought things were over that night. Sometimes I
still don’t understand why I lived through this,” I said.

“That’s
the problem with you. You think that just because certain things are out of
your control, there’s no use trying. Well, I refuse to give in to that. Even
now. And I don’t stop loving people just because I’ve found out my life isn’t
what I expected it to be,” he said.

“This
isn’t just about me. The people we care about will die, Evan. We’ll be
separated from everyone by this at some point. It’ll either be hunger, or
illness, or god forbid one of us gets chosen and the other doesn’t. Even if we
were both lucky enough to go down there, we have no idea what the colonies
would be like. Doesn’t that scare you?” I asked. A long pause lingered as the
wind picked up again. He spaced out, still staring off toward the horizon.

The
trees grew bare of leaves, their bark reflecting the glimmers of light gleaming
from the sky. After being hypnotized by their motion, torment overtook me. The
sun played tricks on us, the way it seduced us on the eve of Armageddon. The
paradox sickened me. Evan’s jaw tensed as he tossed a small pebble at the
fence. The impact rattled it, creating a jingling sound as it bounced back onto
the ground and came to a stop in the dirt.

“Of
course it scares me, Aubrey... It worries the hell out of me. But it makes this
time more valuable. And it doesn’t justify your decision to quit on people. My
father left me too soon too. And what happened to him wasn’t fair either,” he
said, appearing defeated. I filled my lungs before looking up. He was right. It
was wrong of me to leave. Running away gave off the illusion that I had the
power to change this. But I didn’t. And above all, it forced me to hide from my
greatest fear—living my life in spite of my lack of control.

“But…
don’t you ever just wish this was over already?” I asked.

“Not
yet,” he said. I blinked in regret, hoping to find evidence of emotion behind
his eyes, but it wasn’t there. The paralyzing warmth in his glance vanished.
Now, he seemed too serious—too distracted. I batted away the tears again,
avoiding his gaze.

“I’m
sorry, Evan. I am,” I said under my breath. Things stayed silent for a short
time before he spoke again.

“What
made you come back here? Be honest,” he asked, looking up at me.

“My
mother needed me.” I paused. “The worst part about it… is knowing she doesn’t
get a second chance. So I had to choose… I’d either risk everything to redeem a
fraction of a conscience before this started, or I’d spend the next few years
wondering if I could have made things right again. I couldn’t live with that
regret. Besides, I had nothing else left to lose. That’s why I came back,” I
said.