The Luminosity Series (Book 1): Luminosity (19 page)

“Did Jake get his qualification letter?” I asked,
shaking off Evan’s words.

“I have no clue, but it doesn’t matter. He didn’t
think the colonies existed anyway,” Evan said.

“Wait a second… didn’t Aaron tell the military about
the tunnel access?”

“As far as I know… yeah.”

“Then how is Jake planning to escape?” I asked. Evan
stood still before his breathing picked up. “Didn’t Aaron warn him?”

“Oh shit…” he heaved in a horrifyingly deep sigh, his
eyes enlarging in fear. Then, out of nowhere, he bolted past me.

“What are you doing?” I called after him, the wind
suddenly whistling through the trees as if to carry my words away with it. Evan
spun around, walking backwards.

“Aaron wanted him to get caught this whole time! He’s
leading him into a trap! I have to go find him before it’s too late!” he
shouted back at me as he raced toward the cemetery. Just then, in the calmness
of the fading breeze, a pop of distant gunshots ricocheted off the mountain.
Then, the rustling of branches and snapping twigs seized our attention as
Janelle dashed in our direction. Evan stopped as she collided into him in a
breathless panic, grabbing his arms to steady herself.

“There you are! Thank god!” she gasped at Evan. “Something
is happening in town! All the guards are down there! Hurry!”

♦  ♦  ♦

As we made our way back into town, military and police
guards were overabundant, blocking the streets with barricades. Janelle parked
the three of us into a secluded lot several blocks from City Hall. It wasn’t
until she shut off the engine that we could make out the screams and cries of
mercy coming from the hundreds of civilians now swarming the shaded streets.

“Stand back! No one is allowed past the gate!” a guard
yelled through a megaphone. Wide-eyed, we all got out of the car. Without
sparing a second, I hurled toward the crowd to see what the commotion was
about.

“Aubrey, wait!” Evan tried to grab my arm to prevent
me from running ahead, but I slipped away from his grasp, sandwiching myself
within the swarm of protesters. I fought through the herd squeezing beside the
barricades, shoving people out of my way to get to the front. Whispers inside
the group rang in my ears, and suddenly Jake’s name slithered off the tongue of
a nearby stranger.

“His name was Jake Bennington. They
don’t know if it was a suicide, or if he was killed by rebels. They found him
lying outside the wall last night. Can you believe it? He just slipped past it!
No one even knew how he got there! But I heard about a tunnel system that ran
through the mountains! It sure doesn’t make me feel safe, especially with all
the soldiers on guard out there! How could they miss that?”

Suddenly, I twirled around to locate Evan. I inhaled deep,
peering over the heads of strangers, annoyed and impatient in my agitation. And
in that second, I caught a glimpse of the shadowed street ahead of the crowd.
And there he was—Jake, on the ground, his eyes closed and his body without
movement—his chest saturated in a puddle of blood, surrounded by armored guards.

“I said stand back!” another guard yelled.

“No…” I whispered to myself, covering my mouth,
paralyzed with the sudden impact that we were too late, but not in the sense we
thought we were. Jake was… dead.

The crowd roared. People were divided again, many
shouting at the guards, blaming them, casting out the word
“murder”
and
other hateful slurs. Some clamoring about the rebellion. Others rejoicing, broadcasting
their relief and appreciation for the guards protective security efforts in a
wave of cheers. A few prayed in silence while the shrieks of terror in the
crowd struck against nearby buildings, their messages repeating in the
lingering echoes. After Evan’s horrified face reappeared beside me, a sharp
pain smashed through me. I closed my eyes as the first gunshot sounded,
snapping them back open upon impact. As I looked back at Evan, all I could make
out was the contraction of his pupils. Janelle’s screams deafened me from
behind. Jake’s body was being loaded up onto a truck as smoke grenades were
released into the crowd. Then, a bang of more gunshots shuddered through the
air. People pushed backward—the rush of the frightened crowd heading in our
direction like a panicked stampede.

The guards didn’t hold back. They aimed their assault rifles
at resisters in the crowd with no hesitation to pull the trigger on those still
daring enough to resist. Evan faced me with a crinkled forehead—an obvious
expression of grief as he took my hand to escape. My eyesight bounced from left
to right in the midst of fired rifles, my body jolting forward, his arm towing
me. After that, all I remembered was the explosion of gunfire and screams, Evan’s
raging, desperate shouts, and the thud of the car door slamming… before
everything went blurry.

♦  ♦  ♦

Two days passed since that night. Evan was sick in a
state of grief, his body still trembling from the aftershock of death’s quake,
much like how he reacted after his father died. But this time, the optimism I’d
seen return in him was absent. Now, he wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t eat, nor did he
bother to look me in the eye. By the end of the second day, the grief had
squeezed him so hard, tears expelled themselves without effort.

Frustrated, I slid my forearm across my eyes to dry
them. He sat at the base of the staircase with his hood over his head, staring
out the window at the town mercilessly. It was hypocritical for me to be upset,
but it wasn’t fair for him to sacrifice the time we had left blaming himself
for this.

“You have to stop this,” I said. He looked up at me in
a gradual manner, his expression tightening, detecting my impatience. “There
was nothing you could have done. Please… just get up,” I begged, grabbing his
arm to pull him up. He shook me off stubbornly.

“I could have stopped him,” he said under his breath.

“This was his choice. It was too late.” I hated being
so blunt, but we couldn’t avoid the truth forever. Jake was right about
himself. He
was
as good as dead, just like the millions of others who’d
face the same devastation after getting their denial letter. I was through
pretending that the end would never come.

“I’m the reason he’s gone, Aubrey...” He glared at me
in disgust.

“No you’re not.” I shook my head furiously as he rose
from the stairs. “Jake didn’t want you to save him, remember?” I asked,
struggling to think of something more to justify my point.

“His life is over because I didn’t warn him about the
tunnel, Aubrey. And now I’ll live with that for the rest of my life.”

“You said it yourself. He wanted to die,” I choked out
in sobs. He paused and swallowed.

“You didn’t know Jake like I did. He wasn’t always
like this,” he said, his eyes appearing red again as he turned away. By now, I
was furious.

“But you can’t—you can’t change people back to who
they were before this started,” I burst into a cry. Evan looked at me,
swallowing hard again as he stood up straighter.

“Nobody’s lives are perfect. Don’t you see now? We all
come from broken pasts. Sometimes all we need is someone who’s willing to stick
around and fight for what still matters.” He let out a breath. I sighed.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re responsible for everything
that happens,” I said, my eyes stalking his cloudy gaze.

“Maybe not, but this… this I could have prevented.” He
nodded his head, sniffling away the anger.

“No, Evan. You couldn’t. It doesn’t work like that, no
matter how much I wish it did,” I said.

“Well, unlike you, Aubrey, I’ve never had the nerve to
walk away from the people I love. So what other choice do I have than to try
and prevent someone else from being taken from me?” he said in a quiet undertone.
I paused in shock. I couldn’t look at him after that. I couldn’t even breathe.

“Why would you… How can you say that to me?” I asked,
denying his remark in tears as he scowled at his words.

“Aubs… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” Evan said, his
eyes flickering in remorse.

“I—I can’t—” I panicked, glaring at him, defeated by the
bite in his attitude. He swallowed, wrapping his arms around me as the guilt
puddled his eyes.

“Hey… I take it back, okay?” he said in an apologetic,
quavering tone. I peered up in hesitation, shaking as he pulled the strands of
hair blocking my view. “It’s just that you’re always right about the bad
things. And just this once… just this once I wish you weren’t.” And that’s when
he finally let go and broke down into grief.

A few moments passed as we stood there, motionless and
drained in the wake of sobs. Before I knew it, Evan’s clutch on me grew
stronger, as if afraid he’d lose me. Then, he kissed me on the forehead with
forceful lips before adjusting his grasp, his sorrowful breaths releasing heat against
my cold cheek. That night, Jake’s death came as an unexpected warning to us
all—a sign we were all about to decipher.

Two weeks had passed since Jake’s death. By now, I
allowed myself to forget the compass. But I couldn’t allow the mystery
surrounding the photos to go unsolved anymore. Jake’s death served as a
diversion to my family’s investigation. And I had yet to find any evidence of
my suspicions.

The house was quiet as I peered out my bedroom window.
Outside, my mother walked out into the garage. In her hands were jars of canned
fruits and vegetables, a set of batteries and flashlights, and an assortment of
cloth and blankets. Underneath our garage lied an underground cellar made of
stone and concrete. This was where my sister would hide for the time being.

That afternoon, after a surge of riots and arrests
were made back in town, my mother transferred more than half of our pantry
supply to the cellar. It only meant one thing—time was dwindling.

I glided through the hallway. My mother’s door
remained wide open, exposing her newly made bed. Thoughts continued to race
through me. I wished to forget the photos, the compass,
and
my father.
But I couldn’t. My mind screamed like a siren, preparing me, my hunger for the
past prompting me to tear up my room in search of clues that morning. I
anticipated I’d at least uncover a hint that would explain his death, but I
turned up short. The secret stayed hidden with my mother. It always had. Now,
she acted like a mute, traumatized by the world. Lurching into her bedroom, I
counted on my suspicions being wrong. It wasn’t my father in those pictures.
Nor my mother. Nor me, or Evan. But there was only one way for me to find out
for sure.

As I pulled open the top drawer of her dresser, I
spotted a small leather journal. Inside was a bundle of thoughts and moments
weaved together into entries—a diary. I bit my lip as I spun around, making
sure she hadn’t come back into the house, but the silence still lingered. Underneath
it, a letter with a government seal shouted out at me, begging to be found. The
floor creaked as I let the diary slip through my fingers back into the safety
of the drawer. I huffed, squinting in curiosity as the theory of possibility
stifled me. And when I unfolded the letter, it read

“To the household of Mrs. Colleen
and Ms. Aubrey Adams:

Anyone with a last name ending in A
through E should have received a letter from the U.T. Colonization Commission
regarding colony qualification and selection. Once qualified, it is required by
all citizens to undergo immediate health examination and testing procedure.
This process is time-sensitive and is imperative to being assigned a colony.
Without it, we have no choice but to disqualify anyone who has not undergone
these examinations.

Our records indicate you or a
member of your household has qualified into the colony assignment selection.
Please take immediate action to avoid further disqualification. Follow the
instructions below for more information on the examination process.”

In that moment of discovery, the paper glided out of
my fingers, weaving through the air like a feather until it crashed beside my
feet. And then it hit me—I qualified. But… my mother never showed me the
notice.

I heaved, my breathing speeding up at a rapid pace as
the realization set in. And when I snatched the letter off the floor, something
else caught my attention. I held my breath as the sight of it paralyzed me—a
solid white pill dwelled on the floor just outside my mother’s bathroom, isolated
between the dark cracks of the pale tile. Dread struck me, destroying my
suspicion.

Frustrated by her secrecy, I let out an impatient sigh,
whipping the paper onto the dresser before charging into the bathroom. When I broke
open the rusty lock to the medicine cabinet, what displayed before me brought
tears to my eyes. Bottle upon bottle of pills lined the shelves, each label
belonging to a different patient, including Charlie’s. Most were newly
prescribed painkillers, others powerful anti-depressants, anxiety, and sleeping
pill medication. It was enough to induce the entire town into a coma, and more
than enough to be locked up for good if found during inspections.

I put a trembling hand over my mouth, closing my eyes
in disbelief. My mother’s stash signified her desperation. Terrified by it, I
choked back my frustration over her stupidity. My hands shook as I slammed the
cabinet shut, knocking a series of orange and white bottles into the sink as it
bounced back open. But as I stomped back into the bedroom, something
else
caught my eye.

The flap of my mother’s bed skirt hung uneven
underneath the mattress, as if tucked upward in a hurry. Upon lifting it up, I
uncovered two thick envelopes rested near the center. My pulse stopped as I
glared upon the familiar seal, reading
“The United Territories Colonization
Commission.”
The tops of both appeared as if they had been ripped open in a
rush.

My heartbeat pummeled in my throat, the blood raging through
my head as I charged back into my room, swinging the door shut behind me as I
pulled the letters out. Struggling to hold in the sobs and shrieks, I feared
the words I was about to read.

As I opened my mother’s letter, the expected words
“Disqualified
and Unassigned”
were stamped in red lettering. Beside them, a red X. This
justified the creases, crumples, and torn edges, even though she and I both
knew of her disqualification months ago. Still, the sinking feeling was
instantaneous. The tingling sweat hit my skin like pins and needles as I
drowned in panic. Even though her disqualification was no surprise, nothing
would take away the dull ache following those words. Our lives were always in
the hands of government, but the reality we faced couldn’t be prepared for, no
matter how long we still had.

The air stabbed through my chest, the oxygen shooting
through my lungs like a spear. My forehead pounded as my eyeballs flung across
my letter. Then, my breathing stopped.
“Qualified and Assigned—Colony 6”
read at the top of my letter in bold, black ink. Below it, the fine print stood
out.
“Pending approval. Please go to your nearest health facility for
examination processing and testing procedure.”

I looked away, my eyes engulfed in tears, thinking
about how this letter haunted me since the beginning. Now, here it was—my fate,
stamped on a piece of paper, hidden from me. But my true fear was never
dying—it was struggling to survive such an ordeal. Life in our time would
always be more terrifying than the finale. Death became an escape—a metaphor
for my need for solitude. And once again, my only choice was to abandon
everything certain in front of me.

“No…” I whispered to myself, forcing away the tears
that kept coming. But before surrendering to the despair, something on the
paper stopped me. Written on the letters were the names
“Aubrey Rae Ellis”
and
“Abigail Jane Ellis.”
My last name was different, but my mother’s
was wrong altogether. Abigail. Memory of the penned words
“To Abigail”
came to mind as I recalled the envelope of photos I had found in my mother’s
closet. Then the pictures. Confused, I confirmed the confidentiality stamp on
the letter. Sure enough, everything else remained the same—the photo
identification, the statistics. Then, the name struck me—Ellis. The year of the
rumors. The whistleblower rumored to have exposed the discovery—Andrew Ellis.
The conspiracy theories. The compass. The initials
“A.R.E.”
Aubrey Rae
Ellis. Me.

My face flushed ablaze, my blood boiling with dread as
the room revolved around me. In my peripheral vision, black dots became a
chronic warning. Hyperventilating now, I stumbled across the floor, launching
myself forward just in the nick of time, crashing my head against the softness
of the pillows.

♦  ♦  ♦

Upon waking up, a faint, blurred outline of my mother
emerged. She sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to comfort me.

“You’re okay. You just passed out. Here, have
something to drink,” she said, handing me a cup of water. But this time my
memory didn’t fail me. I jolted my head around, curious whether she knew what I
had found. Sure enough, her eyes warned me, gazing upon me in an ashamed
manner. I lifted myself from the bed, wincing as she set the water down beside
me.

“Aubrey, we have to talk...”

“You’re damn right we have to talk,” I said under my
breath as I shifted position, hesitant to be near her. She swallowed. “Why did
you hide those letters from me? Why are our names different? And the
medication... You’re the one who took it from the hospital… What in the hell
were you thinking, mom?” I lashed out.

“The pills are for Andrea.” She glared at me on the
verge of tears, heartbroken and desperate as her bottom lip shook. “I waited
for the right moment to talk to you, but it just never came. And then the years
went by… and I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing you…” She burst into a
cry, leaning in to give me a hug. I cautiously denied returning it. After
several sobs and sighs, my mother looked me in the eye.

“Tell me what? That you’re not who you say you are?
That you—you’ve been stealing from the hospital again? That I qualified into a
colony? That my last name is Ellis?” I slammed in disgust.

“Just listen to me!” She blinked in defeat. “Your
father… was Andrew Henry Ellis,” she said with a sharp breath. My breathing
intensified as I came upon the realization that everything leading up to this
point had been one big cover-up. My eyes darted back and forth as I sat there,
blindsided by fact and plagued with denial. “He was working for the Department
of Defense when he found out the truth. When you were five years old, he was
accused of leaking classified information from NASA to the same movement
responsible for hacking the media and releasing their secrets to the public,”
she said.

“What?” I swallowed in disbelief, holding my breath.

“NASA knew a long time ago, Aubrey. The government
covered it up for decades, blaming it on climate change or whatever other
bullshit they tricked us into believing. Your father realized informing the
public was a risk our leaders didn’t want to take, so he took matters into his
own hands.” My mother spoke with conviction, the wrath seeping through her
words while grabbing onto my hand tighter than necessary. I winced, inhaling
and exhaling deeply. “The government has been hunting him for over fifteen
years for committing treason and violating top secret agreements. But your
father did what he did for a reason, Aubrey.”

“Then where—where is he?” I huffed in disbelief.

“He escaped. He was never found,” she said. I
swallowed back the pain. “The year he ran, I had to choose. Our connection to
Andrew was dangerous. I was horrified of what they might do to him if they
found him, or us. Understand, Aubrey, he had proof of this cataclysm. He was
tied to the largest cover-up in U.S. history. But it wasn’t just a secret. Their
knowledge became a weapon.”

“What do you mean? How?” I huffed.

“Instead of making preparations for the public, they
did nothing, Aubrey. Your generation grew up ignorant of the crisis that was
coming. They were going to let our people die,” she said, swallowing.

“What?” I was mortified by what she told me.

“Before he released the documents, Andrew arranged for
our family to go into hiding. He told us that once the truth got out, things
would get bad. He even prepared a cabin for us to stay in in the mountains to
wait it out. After months of silence, I assumed he had been captured. I decided
I couldn’t let you girls grow up in isolation. So I obtained new identities and
never spoke of him again. After years of hiding, I realized moving us back here
to Golden would be risky, but I needed closure. I had to figure out if Andrew
left us a sign that would lead us back to him. I needed to know if—if he was
still out there. But I realize it’s not that simple anymore,” she explained.
And without a second thought, the compass came to mind. Now, I understood with
absolute certainty that it
did
belong to my father. That maybe he
was
alive. But I was too overwhelmed with shock to tell her.

“So... you knew? And Andrea too? You knew the entire
time and you said nothing?” I asked, blinking as I played catch up with the
thoughts racing through my head.

“I couldn’t risk you doing something stupid, Aubrey…
Andrea found out when she was eighteen, before the collapse. Your father wanted
to wait until you both were mature enough to understand how dire of a secret
this was. To keep you hidden. At first Andrea thought I was going crazy. She
didn’t believe me until the rumors came out. After that, she wanted nothing to
do with me. She was scared, Aubrey. So she did exactly what you did. She ran.”
My mother swallowed again.

“So that’s why—that’s why you two were so distant…” I
concluded in horror.

“Yes…” My eyes flickered rapidly. “Look, I realize
this is a lot for you to take in, Aubrey... but this place, this town used to
be our home back when your father was still with us. Our whole family lived
here when you were just a little girl. After our family found out what Andrew
knew, most of them fled to go live off the grid in fear of global collapse. I
never knew what happened to them, and it’s given me nightmares for years,” she
said.