Virgo Rising

By Carolyn Chambers Clark and Anthony Auriemma

If you like young adult thrillers and post-apocalyptic settings, you'll like VIRGO RISING.

Sixteen-year-old Tyler Haden stands up to the evil corporation that controls Virgo, the last city in North America after the tsunami. Threatened with having her brain wiped of all memories, she goes on the run with her friend, Darius. Now they must not only survive, but win back their city.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carolyn Chambers Clark
• Release date: Oct 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466090194

Carolyn Chambers Clark

Carolyn Chambers Clark is a board-certified advanced holistic nurse practitioner with a master's degree in mental health nursing and a doctorate in education. She is a faculty member in the Health Services Doctoral Program at Walden University, and she hosts http://home.earthlink.net/~cccwellness and http://HolisticHealth.bellaonline.com.

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Copyright, Carolyn Chambers Clark, & Anthony Auriemma, 2011

SMASHWORDS Edition

For your personal reading pleasure

VIRGO RISING

In the time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.

- George Orwell.

Chapter 1

THE AWAKENING

Something's happening in my city and I've got to find out what. Covered by a gray haze of pollution, the dull sun filters through the bullet-proof windows high above me in Virgo High School. Depression and desperation permeate the halls, and students clump along, eyes glazed as if they could care less.

My friend, Darius, told me to sneak into this room when the students are being scanned in at the front door, and I'd discover what's going on. It's taken me weeks to try this, but after what happened to my parents, I have to find out what's making everybody so passive.

Hands shaking, I take out the key Darius gave me and open the locker room door. He said they used this room to torture students who acted up. I don't really believe him, but I'm curious, and I have to find out if things are as bad as he says they are.

Once inside, I relock the door and then race over to the other side of the room where I crouch by my locker. My name, Tyler Haden, appears nowhere on it. Only a black number stretches across the front of the green metal exterior. Everyone now is a number, not a name. I don't like that at all, but we're told it's for our own protection, and so are the implants in our arm. Maybe they're right, but it seems wrong. I bend down and retie my sneakers, a nervous habit I've picked up.

Sweat pours down the back of my school uniform when I think about the risk I'm taking. If a guard catches me, who knows what they'll do to me? I can't afford to be suspended. My teeth chatter and I hope Darius is wrong.

I grasp the cold metal of my locker door and peek around the side, then duck back when a key turns in the lock. Silver badges flash on the chests of six armed school guards and body armor rustles as they shove a boy inside the room. Black helmets and plastic covers conceal the faces of the guards. If they even have faces. They buzz around like giant killer bees.

Smoky brown and gray auras of materialism, lack of spirituality, and the presence of a dark side surround their bodies.

I can't turn this strange power off, this ability to read auras, but I don't really want to. It helps me judge who to trust, and it's not the guards. I wish I could see their eyes or any sign of emotion. They're more like machines than men.

Hair cut short, the boy is dressed just like me in school uniform of baggy blue pants and a matching hooded shirt. He's gripping his arm and he looks terrified. One of the guards rips the boy's backpack off him and opens the zipper. The other guards bunch around him, waiting to see what's inside

When I glance down at my arms, I see mustard-colored splotches of anger in the aura that surrounds me. They shouldn't be in here with him. I can't believe they might hurt him

The skinny boy pokes at his implant. I don't know his name, but now that I see him close up, I realize he's a year behind me, a sophomore. His aura swirls with brown unsettledness. A look of desperation on his freckled face, he rips into his skin with his fingernails. Droplets of blood seep to the surface and drip onto the floor.

Two guards dash over to the boy, their boots clicking across the tiles. They grab the boy by the arms and yank him into the corner.

Something urges me to help the boy. When I take a step forward, one of the guards turns his head in my direction, and I duck back into the shadows by the lockers. I want to be brave, but it would be stupid to confront the guards alone.

Didn't do nothing. The boy tries to run, but his oppressors reach out with their long arms and pull him back.

A muscular guard shakes him. Shut up. Stand still. Don't make things worse by fighting us. You know the rules. Your ID microchip must not be removed. His voice sounds like somebody's choking him in an echo chamber.

A tall guard takes a stun gun out of his pocket and aims it at the boy. The black weapon glistens in the dim light.

I want to shout, Help, but no one will hear me and even if they do, no one cares.

Don't hurt me. The boy's voice quavers, pale face creases, body shakes.

The guard holds the stun gun to the boy's chest, clicks the trigger. A blue arc of electricity darts back and forth between the prongs and a vile smell of smoke fills the air.

The buzz and crackle of the volts make me jump back farther into the shadows. My body shakes and I can't stop.

Every muscle in the boy's body jerks and twists like it might pop out of his skin. Except his face, which looks like it's been shot up with Novocain.

The boy cries out. He wavers. Unable to stand, he drops to his knees and then falls onto the floor, drooling.

Smoke rises out of his hair. I sniff back my tears and wonder how they can be so heartless.

He lays limp, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Liquid puddles on the floor beneath him.

Urine. Oh no, he wet himself.

Two guards grab the boy by the feet and drag him away like a wet mop. The rest of the guards leave and lock the door behind them.

I hang around, waiting for the sound of their boots on the tile to disappear and for my shakes to subside. When I don't hear them anymore, I force myself to sneak out and head toward class.

Where is Darius, the one person I can trust? I've got to talk to him. My hands shake when the idea that he might have deserted me races through my mind.

The last bell rings in the emptying halls. I hurry toward homeroom.

A guard's high-pitched whistle pierces the air and I wince. I grab two sharpened pencils from my bag, as if they're knives.

Keys jangle and boots rap across the floor.

Oh, crap. Adrenalin pours through me, and I run.

Two of them grab me from behind and shove me down the hall. They stop by the scanner and shove my arm under it. Number 65,043, you dared to watch the forbidden. Now you will be sentenced.

They must have seen my weapons because they grab my hands and squeeze so hard, the pencils snap. The pieces clatter onto the floor.

My guts twist and my arms ache from the tightness of their grip.

Let me go. I kick one in the knee, but my foot hits sponge rubber. I aim at the other's crotch and miss. They hold onto me, and I can't get away. I try to think orange, uplifting, but what comes out is sulfur. You're scum.

They quick-step me down the hall and shove me along. I'm wondering why they didn't tase me. They must want something from me, but I don't know what. No loitering in the hallways. No watching us in the locker room, the one on my left says in a mechanical voice. They tighten their grip on my arms and lift me off the floor.

My arms feel like they're ripping out from their sockets. Two of you on a defenseless girl. Some heroes.

The guards speak over my head in angry tones and coded words I don't understand, but I feel their wrath rain down on me. I slam my foot down on their toes, but they don’t' react. They must be wearing steel-toed boots.

The one on the right whispers in my ear. You have broken the rules for watching, and you will be punished.

Your rules are stupid and so are you.

We reach the principal’s office, and the tallest guard shoves me toward a row of chairs in the junior girls' waiting area. The guards retreat until they leave the room and stare at me through the glass portion of the door.

I can't see their eyes, but I feel them watching me. I rub my arms and shoulders but refuse to let them see me shake or give any sign of fear.

A kid in the next room cries out in pain. I wonder what they're doing to him. When they're done with him, I'm next. I take a deep breath and pump myself up. I can handle this. Meanwhile, a little voice in my head says: Oh, yeah, wanna bet?

A dowdy, gray-haired woman sits at a desk outside the principal's office. She looks up from her computer, eyes puffy, face wrinkled. She has white in her aura. I think it's from having a serious disease. Her head dangles like a huge invisible hand is forcing it down onto her chest. She twists her head and stares at me. Okay, you know the drill.

I shove my arm under the scanner.

She presses a button, and a loud buzz comes out. The door to the principal's office unlocks and swings open with a creak.

You can go in. The principal's waiting to talk to you. She goes back to her computer.

No one passes me on the way in and I wonder if I imagined the crying kid or did the guards carry him out another way? It's hard to believe my eyes in this kind of situation.

The principal, a short man with a white mustache and a balding head, stares at me with droopy eyes. He smells of onions, and his ill-fitting suit doesn’t hide his pot belly. His aura's orange, full of power and the desire to control people. He points to the scanner on his desk.

I stick my arm under the machine, and green fluorescent lines run across my skin.

The principal reads aloud my name, serial number, and parental details as they print out and then picks up a piece of paper and waves it at me. You've been caught watching the guards discipline a student. You’re on the list now. The next step's reprogramming and reconditioning. Is that what you want?

No, sir. I spit out the words. I'd rather die than get my brain wiped of all memory. No way. Darius told me about the brain wipe, but I didn't believe him until now.

All right, then, perhaps you can tell us about number 65,068. He looks at a piece of paper. Darius.

Darius? Oh, no. He must be in real trouble. Thoughts ricochet in my brain. Should I say I know him or deny it? What would Darius tell me to do? Probably act stupid.

Yes, Darius. You know who I mean. He arches an eyebrow at me.

He's got to know I know him. I think I know him. I think he's in one of my classes.

Come now. You've been seen in the halls with him.

I pause and stare up at the ceiling like I'm trying to remember. That's true. I think he may have asked me about an assignment or two. He's missed a lot of school. Sick, I think.

But what are his beliefs? Does he believe in what we're trying to accomplish in Virgo?

I shrug. I...I don't know. We don't talk about anything but class assignments.

He leans closer and I smell his rank odor. I don't think he's bathed in weeks. You sure?

My heart's pounding so hard, he must be able to hear it. Yes, yes, that's it. I'm sorry...I can't tell you anything else.

The room is silent for over a minute and I wonder if the taser is about to put me out of my misery. I glance around, but see no guards.

He raps on his desk. Go see the school nurse before homeroom tomorrow. Ms. Warner will help you. And remember, we're watching you. The principal hands me a pass. Get to class now or you'll miss something important.

When a loud buzz fills the hall, I race to get to biology, legs shaking and mind trying to forget what happened to that poor boy.

***

The morning drags on, and I can’t keep my mind on economics class. I wonder whether I'm going to be sent to be reprogrammed or worse. My cranberry muffin breakfast tumbles around my stomach and climbs up my throat, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

Students sit at their desks like zombies, not even blinking.

Ms. Loanstead, the teacher, a tall woman with a constant frown on her face and piercing blue eyes, stands in the front of the room, talking and pointing to a graph on the board with a ruler.

Why isn't Darius here? I've got to warn him. I lean forward and doodle his name in my notebook, until she slams a book on the cabinet and stares at me.

That jolts me into listening, and I sit up straight.

No doodling. No looking around. Pay attention, she says.

I nod and put my notebook away. Yes, Ma'am. Sorry.

By the time the teacher lets us go, I squeeze through the mass of bodies to get the hell out of here.

Along with hordes of students, I escape from the huge stone fortress and stumble out the double doors into the crowded city of skyscrapers and toxic drizzle. Out here, it smells like a cross between vinegar and mothballs. I pull a mask over my face and breathe in and out, sucking any oxygen out of the polluted air.

I hurry down the steps, about to turn left, when a voice stops me.

Pizza? Burgers?

I whirl and for a minute I'm confused. What's with the shades and wig?

Concern brims in his blue eyes when Darius removes the glasses. His tall body radiates energy and enthusiasm as he comes towards me. Time for a disguise. You okay, Ty? He gazes into my face with that intense stare of his that misses nothing.

I feel his caring, and I'm embarrassed to show mine. What? Oh, I’m fine. I almost got sent to have my brain wiped, but I got a warning instead. Then I saw a boy tasered in the locker room.

He replaces his shades. Didn't I tell you?

Yes, you did, but I've been worried about you. The principal asked me about your beliefs. I thought you’d been expelled or sent to be reprogrammed. I take in his forbidden faded jeans.

He grins at me. They're so stupid, they think I'm with my parents. At a funeral. Amazing what a little practice forging signatures can do. He always speaks in short sentences, which took a little getting used to. His voice is breezy, but rushed, as if he has a lot to accomplish and couldn't care less that I'm staring at him or somebody might be listening in.

Cool. I'm so glad to see Darius after jail-school. I'm a rebel now, too, and it really scares me.

He grabs me by the hand and escorts me to the curb, his fingers warm around mine. Emergency. Have to talk. He gives me a sidelong glance. I repeat. Pizza? Burgers?

Burgers, I guess. Yes, burgers. The depressing mood I carried with me from school evaporates. Happiness invades my every pore now that I'm with Darius.

We step into the crowd of students and hurry south with them until Darius pulls me along behind him into our favorite restaurant, Natural Eats. Inside, we pass the NO COVERED FACES INSIDE sign, and I stuff my mask into my pocket.

The red and yellow walls feature pictures of smiling people dancing to the rhythms of a four-piece band and bright green fabric covers the tables. This is the one place where I feel good. The room smells of the burgers sizzling on the grill by the counter. I take a deep breath and enjoy being here with no guards and no teachers.

A huge video screen on the wall projects Corporate-enforced images of X-Ron, animated movie star. Dimples flashing, she smiles at the camera and holds up a bottle of pills. Xylophenix will change your life for the better. I take it every day and it keeps me healthy and happy. Be sure and ask your doctor to order some for you today.

Darius points at the screen and covers his mouth when he speaks. Don't believe that BS. Only a few of us aren't on their mind-numbing drugs. Don't look at the screen. They're watching us. Look sidewise at me.

I stop looking at the screen and follow his directions. What? How can they watch us through the screen?

Don't know how. Just protect yourself here and at home.

Okay, but I thought the kids at school were just passive.

Darius waves a hand at me like it's all bunk. No, they're on mind-numbing drugs like Xylopenix. The sorry thing is, a lot of them asked to be put on it after watching that commercial. They think if X-Ron recommends something, they should automatically do it.

How come we're not on those drugs? I know my parents are, but there's no explaining what they'll do to please the Corporation.

We're not on the drugs because I hacked into their computer system and put our names on the list of drug takers.

I shake my head and relax back in my chair, relieved I don't have to pretend with Darius and that I'm not on those drugs.

A smiling waiter sets a soy burger topped with hydroponically-grown tomatoes and lettuce in front of me. You back for food not grown in Virgo's crappy soil?

He has an off-key accent, black curly hair, and a smile that makes me smile back. His name tag reads Your waiter, Tony and his white apron is starched and clean. Unlike other adults, he doesn't look at us with suspicion in his eyes, as if we might be vagrants or terrorists-in-training.

Darius sits across the table from me. He points a finger at Tony. We come back for great burgers. And because you don't use polluted city water.

Tony smiles at Darius. You a smart young man. Later, I take you out back and show you garden. No pesticides, no herbicides, no fertilizer pellets, no genetically-engineered food cloned with animal cells.

Exactly. Darius shakes his hand like they're old friends. I wish I could be that outgoing.

You like vegetables? Tony gives us a proud grin.

I bite into the tomato and taste its luscious flavor. So sweet.

After Tony goes back to the kitchen, my hands feel like ice and I whisper to Darius, Maybe you shouldn't have said anything about the city water. They could be listening. I nod in the direction of the painting on the wall.

He shrugs. They've heard it before. In my underground articles. He must reconsider, because he leaves his seat and turns up the video volume. He points to a small box that looks like a pepper shaker and whispers when he returns to my side. You're right. Another bug. Got something new. More explosive. Act normal. He gulps in a deep breath of air. It's Josh.

I set down my fork and stare at Darius. What about him?

"Keep chewing. They can’t read your lips then. Josh? He's in trouble and so are a lot