Publication
date: April 29th 2014
Genres: Dystopia, Young Adult
Genres: Dystopia, Young Adult
The
residents of Impervious are the remnant, the survivors of the war
of Annihilation. And though the city is chockfull of pleasures
to tantalize and entertain, a beast lurks in the corners,
haunting the residents with its presence. The Beast, a
mysterious and terminal illness killed off most of Generations
One, Two, and Three.
And
as Gen-Four prepares to take the stage, a provocative, yet
questionable, new method to avoid an untimely death incites
a cultural rage. But Fran lives counter-culture, off the
grid in true rebel fashion. With a life far from opulent, she
scurries through dark tunnels, searching for hot meals with
Pete while ditching the holographic security team. To her, it's
a healthy trade-off. Unaccountability means The Council
can't steal her sliver of hope, a belief that she'll see The
Epoch arrive before The Beast can pull her into its Fetid
embrace.
Fran
spied Gillius, third in line, in front of a girl with a sleek
chestnut mane. Like the others, Gillius’ left fist rested on his
chest, pinky pointed upward as he gave honor to the great city of
Impervious. His glassy stare screamed of the venom already snaking
through his veins, soon to bring an end to his life.
A
shudder shook Fran as she wondered about corporeal termination.
Rumors spoke of an excruciating end where the forfeitures dropped
into agonizing spasms of death during the final pageant. Fran
shivered again and reminded herself that sensationalism stemmed from
useless gossip which, in turn, always led to melodrama. Then again,
the entire event was absurd, so why not?
She
questioned whether she and Pete should even be there, gawking like a
typical resident as the parade worked their way down the stairs from
center stage to the outside rim of the circle. They began an official
promenade moving as one unit, soundlessly, like a snake slithers
through tall grasses. Right behind Gillius, the girl—what’s
her name?—moved with the grace of a dancer, while glowing hair
cascaded about her shoulders like the velvety train of her robe.
Chestnut
Peak―that was it.
As
the procession moved closer, Fran could make out their facial
features with better clarity. Chestnut’s obvious youth surprised
her. As far as she knew, no one under twenty-five had ever forfeited,
yet this girl still had the look of a mid-lifer, like Fran.
The
line swayed with rhythmic motion, and soon snaked only fifteen feet
or so away from the venting where Fran and Pete hid. The eerie
silence which enshrouding the promenade morphed into the sound of
rushing air. A dozen pairs of slippers moved in a whisper just a few
inches from Fran’s eyes. When the fourth set of feet swished into
her line of vision, Fran noticed a hesitation.
“Ladies
and gentlemen, would you please bow your heads as Sasha Lee Dees
surrenders, and we give honor to her name.”
Sasha?
Fran sucked in her breath.
The
entire march halted. A deafening silence reverberated through the
courts followed by horrific gurgling sounds. Then, Sasha dropped to
the floor. Not more than a few feet from where Fran sat tucked into
the venting, her chestnut head rolled from side to side and her eyes
shone like polished black orbs.
Back
when Fran still lived in the Old East Wing, Sasha had visited their
pod once or twice to work with Ted on his macros. Fran remembered
spying on them from her doorway, hoping to catch her brother making a
move or something. She could almost hear Sasha’s easy laughter and
witty remarks.
Now,
however, her eyes locked onto Fran’s as if screaming for help. Her
face contorted, and her body trembled. Fran felt a vibration move
through her own body as her nerves quivered in sympathetic pain.
Sasha’s arms and legs splayed and spasmed as her back arched and
head thrashed about. A sickening, acrid odor, like a mix of poison
and death, wafted from the velvety robe, and bile rose in Fran’s
throat. Finally, Sasha’s eyes rolled back into her head, and her
movement terminated.
A
cheer erupted from the crowd who loitered on overhead balconies and
platforms, and Fran clasped her hands over her mouth stifle the
scream that roared through her body. All Accountable residents of
legal viewing age watched the event. It was a big deal. Although some
probably scrutinized from a small screen in the comfort of their
living pods, too many just couldn’t resist the sick urge to watch
it live.
The
cheers finally died down, and when reverence returned, the swishing
slippers resumed. The seven forfeitures in line behind Sasha tiptoed
over the fallen body and continued the march, leaving Sasha where she
dropped.
I’m
a book-writing, selfie-taking, latte-drinking, social media gal. I’m
living a good life on the road as a full-fledged Bedouin (Well,
except, my tent is actually a fully-equipped RV.) Me and my
partner-in-crime (Benj) tend to hunker down wherever the skies are
clear and the temps stay in the 70’s. We call ourselves Gypsy
Nerds because we aimlessly wander the U.S. with glasses perched upon
our noses and faces jammed into computer screens (for the first
half the day... The second half of the day is typically devoted to
playing because we’re also somewhat immature.)
Like most authors, the characters I create are my extended family. And like most readers, when the story ends, I get a little sad. In real life, I have two handsome, hardworking, grown-up boys who know how to make their Mama proud! *Waves to Joey and Mike!*
The Ascension Series is my debut into the world of YA fiction.
I’m
living what I love and loving what I live!
Sounds like a good read especially after they just leave Sasha.
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