Traxx: Book 1

By Angela Carling

Jetta Banks could never have imagined that her safe reality was contrived from a horrific lie. Like everyone else, she’s relocated to a new community in her family’s Homeshield every eight weeks since birth. By design, life in Aritrea is predictably inconsistent and always governed by the Back to Basic philosophy instituted following the world-wide pandemic. Still, Jetta feels like something is missing. When she meets Montana Tanner, the blue-eyed boy from the oddly painted Homeshield, she begins to understand why. Not only is she instantly smitten, but he also reveals to her a secret about Aritrea’s new leadership, leaving her questioning everything she’s ever been taught. Knowing this damming information, Jetta faces an impossible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angela Carling
• Release date: Dec 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9780996893459

Angela Carling

Angela Carling was raised in Palm Springs California, but lives Arizona with her husband, three kids and five felines. After years of denial she finally admitted that she is a hopeless romantic which led her to write her first Young Adult book Unbreakable Love. Since then she’s published three more books, Shackled, Becoming Bryn and The Secret Keeper. Shackled won the silver IPGA award in 2012 and has been optioned as a screenplay. She always eats the frosting off her cake and leaves the rest, and can be caught singing in public bathrooms just for the acoustics. When she’s not writing YA novels, she’s mentoring teen writers, making pizza with her family or dreaming of taking a nap, not necessarily in that order

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TRAXX

Copyright © 2019, Angela Carling  All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any methods, photocopying, scanning, electronic or otherwise, except as permitted by notation in the volume or under Sections 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without the prior written permission of the author.

Carling, Angela

TRAXX/Angela Carling – 1st ed.

ISBN Paperback 978-0-9968934-8-0

ISBN EPUB 978-0-9968934-5-9

Contact the author via

www.angelacarling.com

or

twitter.com/angelacarling

1- Fiction 2- Young Adult 3- Dystopian

Printed in the United States of America

Website

www.angelacarling.com

Blog

http://angelacarling.blogspot.com/

Email

[e-mail]

Twitter

@AngelaCarling

Books by Angela Carling

Unbreakable Love

Shackled

Becoming Bryn

Five Days, Five Kisses

Traxx Series

TRAXX

(Traxx Series Book 1)

The Secret Keeper Series

The Secret Keeper

(The Secret Keeper Series Book 1)

In The Dying Light

(The Secret Keeper Series Book 2)

Belakane

The Origin of The Secret Keeper Curse

(The Secret Keeper Series Book 3)

Under The Broken Sky

(The Secret Keeper Series Book 4)

Dedication

To Kaelen:

Thanks for the amazing covers and for being the kind of man who looks at the world and says how can we make it better.

Book One of the Traxx Series

By Angela Carling

Parcel Map of Aritrea

Prologue

Michael Tanner

When Zane Hammerstein stomped into the room, Michael’s clenched hand went straight to his wildly beating heart. Behind his ears, blood throbbed warning him of imminent danger. He was about to get busted.

Despite the relocation department buzzing with activity, Michael was terrified that Zane would catch him. Using phony contribution orders, Michael had taken Zane’s assigned place and pretended to be Zane to access the Traxx Relocation System. That wasn’t even the worst law that he’d broken. He’d stolen his work uniform and ID card, and lied to the people in the community for days.

Michael’s behavior was an affront to Back to Basics. And this was not the first time he’d broken community laws. Leaving his parcel to look for his wife’s father made Michael a deserter, a criminal, most of all, a threat to the Traxx society’s carefully constructed way of life.

Still, he did it for his wife Sky, to send her and his son Montana to Parcel Fifteen where her father Maury, would hopefully find them. Now that Zane was here, Michael was out of time.

Ignoring the sweat beading up on the back of his neck, Michael faced his paper-thin computer screen and tried to look busy. From the corner of his eye, he tracked Zane’s movements. At every work station, Zane stopped and asked to see each worker’s identification badge.

An image of Sky’s brilliant blue eyes flashed through Michael’s mind. He shrunk back in his seat. He had to get out of the Relocation Center without getting caught. Getting back to Parcel Fifteen was all that matter now. Michael missed his family so much that lately, a dull ache never left his midsection.

Where’s the supervisor? Zane asked with a gruff tone, leaning over the shoulder of a slender brunette named Sally. Michael and Sally had spoken in the break room a few times. This was her third assignment at a Relocation Center. She’d been kind to Michael and helped him figure out the operating system when he’d first arrived.

Without looking up, she pointed in the direction of the restroom. Zane turned, his urgent footsteps clanked against the metal grate, the sound reverberating off the cement walls of the massive cooling system beneath them. The bathroom door closed behind Zane. Michael leapt to his feet, making his desk chair teeter. He held his breath. Calling attention to himself was the last thing he wanted. With one hand, he reached back and steadied the seat while acting as if he’d risen only to stretch. No one glanced up from their computer screens.

Turning and walking at a steady rate, he headed for the back door. He was steps away from escape when the supervisor belted out, Whoever you are, stop!

His brisk walk turned to a frenzied sprint until Michael stood panting at the exit. He jammed down the button and the door began sliding open. With both hands, he forced it the rest of the way and stepped into the blinding sunlight.

The rich scent of pine seized Michael senses. It was the scent of freedom. His eyes darted back and forth. Earlier, he’d noticed maintenance vehicles parked in the shade under the large clump of pines at the other end of the long cement building. It was worth a chance. On foot, he was sure to get caught.

In two bounds, he was down the metal stairs. He rounded the corner and let out a ragged breath. A two-man ATV sat silently beneath the boughs of a towering pine, the keys still dangling in the ignition.

People didn’t steal ATVs. Stealing flew in the face of being community minded, and acting in the best interest of the community was the core of the Back to Basics program. He knew his rebellious act would upset a lot of people, and even worse, possibly draw attention to his family.

At the other end of the building Michael heard the clank of footsteps on the same stairs he’d used. Calling on strength he wasn’t even sure he had, he forced his legs to go faster. Behind him, his pursuers rounded the corner closing the distance between them. Michael glanced over his shoulder. Their angry scowls bore into his back, making his stomach clench tight.

He reached the ATV and threw his leg over the side, feeling the unyielding metal against his thigh. He’d ridden one before in Parcel Seven. They were work vehicles, strong and able to take on tough terrain. With the turn of the key, the engine roared to life. The anxious hum of the ATV joined with Michael’s shallow breathing becoming a soundtrack for his desperate situation. Keeping his hand wrapped firmly around the clutch, Michael took one last frantic glance around. The wall pinned him from behind and the two men closed in from the other direction. It was forward or nothing. He clamped his legs down and drove straight at them. Their eyes grew wide and they jumped in opposite directions falling to the dusty ground as he blew by. Without looking back, Michael headed in the direction of Parcel Five where he’d met the historians once, and hoped beyond all hope, he could find them again.

Chapter 1

Jetta

The feel of my bed gently vibrating as we zipped along the sturdy Traxx was soothingly familiar to me and had been since I was a child. After all, this was my one hundred and tenth relocation.

I’d ask my mom to keep our next assigned destination a surprise. Lately, there’d been a hollow place inside of me, and the feeling couldn’t be washed away just by moving our Homeshield to a new community. I needed the next location to be a happy diversion, at least until I figured out what was bothering me. Anxious to hurry up the night, I nestled down into my covers. Lulled by the scent of my freshly washed linens and the stream of warm air from the vent above, I drifted off.

With the sunrise of the new day, I stood up on my bed to peek out the small round window above me. Hilly landscapes and imposing pines whizzed by in a blur of browns and greens. We were still moving. 

The fuzzy sensation of my robe enveloped me as I slipped it on and moved through the small rooms into the kitchen.  On the counter an empty egg carton sat next to a small container of flour. As expected at the end of eight weeks, our cabinets were mostly empty. 

My mother glanced up. Pancakes for everyone, she said, her voice overly cheery. She always made pancakes when we traveled. Her curly brown hair was tucked neatly behind her ears and a streak of flour ran up her cheek like poorly applied blush. After greeting me, she focused again on the mixing bowl.  Using brisk strokes, she whipped the batter as fast as any appliance could.  Some people still complained about changes made after the pandemic, about how much technology we’d lost, but my mother had embraced our simple way of life. Even before, when we had machines to do everything, she held stubbornly to the ways her own mother had taught her, cooking by hand, writing with crude tools like pencils and pens. I met her at the counter and stabbed two pancakes with a fork before putting them on my plate. Bits of steam rose up carrying with it a warm sweet scent.  My stomach growled.

Will we be moving for long? I asked, baiting my mother to give up the secret I’d ask her to keep. 

Not much longer love, she returned, with a small smile tugging at the corners of her delicate lips.

Once the smell of breakfast breached the door to my father’s room, he stumbled in from their side of the Homeshield.  His tattered gray T-shirt was on inside out and he squinted trying to adjust to the bright light of the main room while straightening his glasses. Even disheveled, he still filled the space with his commanding presence.

I smell pancakes, he said in a voice that always sounded too loud for such a small space when things were closed up for travel.

Sit, my mother invited, wearing the smile she often donned just from being in the same room with him. He pulled out a chair and melted into it.  My mother set a full plate and plopped an unhealthy amount of butter on the top of the stack. 

Will we have enough butter until we arrive? he asked, now fully awake. She answered only by rolling her eyes. He always worried about food even though he knew we’d get our food vouchers not long after we pulled into our new lot, where ever that was.

While we ate, I asked my mother questions. Should I dress for the cold, or a balmy island breeze?

During the last quarterly broadcast, the Benevolent Eleven had announced that new Traxx would be laid connecting a group of islands on the far south side of Aritrea. Of course, I knew the chances of being assigned to an island were small, but I could hope.

My mother still refused to bite. Wear whatever you want dear. We keep the temperature a comfortable seventy-five degrees inside. The woman was an impenetrable fortress when she made a promise.

After breakfast, I sat down at MIDGE and typed in the password to bring up my school program. It was getting harder to make myself do schoolwork lately. Now that I was nearly eighteen and almost done with my formal education, I was itching to move onto full time contribution.  I hadn’t decided if I wanted specific training like my father, or to be a Filler doing whatever job was needed in each community and learn many skills along the way. MIDGE pulled up the math assignments I’d been avoiding for days and wouldn’t let me do my science until I completed them. Sometimes she was worse than my mother. 

Out the window, the landscape continued to change. Pine trees gave way to long stretches of desert and finally when the sun went down and a heavy black sky filled the skylights overhead, I couldn’t see anything.  Just before bed, we gathered around the small white kitchen table to repeat our nation’s mantra: 

We are an independent nation.

We are safe in our isolation.

We have gleaned the best in humanity through Back to Basics.

We are loyal to each other and those who lead us.

We are the powerful Nation of Aritrea.

The kitchen still smelled of Rosemary Chicken from dinner and the soft lights overhead wrapped me in the luster and warmth of my Homeshield. Tonight, hearing my parents recite the National Mantra evoked in me a feeling of inclusion and safety, and for a moment, my discontentment subsided and I felt like my life was complete. I went to bed early and watched the stars fly by like the smeared light of fireflies crushed against the endless black sky. When I finally drifted off, we were still moving.

The Back to Basics and Traxx Lifestyle Manual

Section 7

Vouchers and Limitations on Voucher Use

7.1 Vouchers

Community Vouchers can be used for goods and services in each community.

The number of each community will be connected to the correlating vouchers. However, all vouchers, regardless of the issuing community, are valid in all Traxx communities within the borders of Aritrea.

All vouchers will be exchanged and managed with an electronic card called the Personal Electronic Voucher, otherwise known as the Traxx Card.

All e-vouchers will be managed and tracked through an individual or family’s Personal Traxx Card and Traxx Card number.

At the age of 14, all individuals participating in Community Contribution will receive their own Traxx Card.

There are two kinds of vouchers, food and goods, and services.

Medical and mental health services, as well as medication do not require the use of vouchers, but instead are tracked through medical records and requests to the Medical Board (MB) in each parcel.

The tracking number associated with an individual or family’s assigned Homeshield will also be connected to their vouchers.

If a family or individual has a change in circumstances and needs to have a reevaluation of their vouchers, they can submit a reevaluation form on MIDGE directly to the Voucher Board (VB).

All individuals or families will be given new vouchers within the first twelve hours of arrival in a new community.

The number of vouchers each family or individual receives will be based on the size and unique needs of the family or individual.

Information scanned from the Traxx Card will be used to better assist in meeting the needs of each Aritrean Citizen.

Unless a reevaluation form is submitted, all individuals or families will be reevaluated every five years to determine an individual or family’s voucher needs.

If a new family is formed through marriage, submit a Change of Household Circumstance Form through MIDGE directly to the Voucher Board (VB) two weeks prior to the upcoming wedding.

If a family goes through a divorce or a death of either a spouse or child, submit a Change of Household Circumstance as soon as possible so that the number of vouchers can be adjusted to meet the individual or family’s needs.

7.2 Limitations on Voucher Use

It is strictly forbidden to sell, trade or give away assigned vouchers to another individual or family for any reason.

If an individual or family need more vouchers, they must submit a Change of Household Circumstance application to the Voucher Board (VB). Their request will be reviewed within five days.

January 1st of each year, all vouchers from the prior year will expire and can no longer be redeemed for goods or services.

__________________________________

Chapter 2

Jetta

From the minute my eyes flew open and I saw the brilliant, unfiltered light streaming through a window, I knew we were somewhere good.  Near my feet a patch of sun warmed me and I grunted as I stretched out my long slender legs.  I threw off the blankets and stood on my bed so that I could peer out the overhead window as I’d done the day before. Even with the windows closed, the sweet smell of fresh citrus reached my senses and I licked my lips.

Behind the filmy white curtain, bright green leaves shimmering with morning dew filled my vision. These weren’t like the dark green of the pine needles where we’d come from, and were different than the patchy green of the Elm trees that I’d seen up north. It was like the sunshine had climbed into the trees themselves and shone through the leaves instead of going around them. It seemed to me that my traveling residence had been dropped from the sky and landed right in the middle of a fragrant forest. It was the most enchanting place I’d ever been and I felt sure that good things would follow.

An elated squeal escaped my lips as I jumped off my bed and hastily threw on a T-shirt and sweat pants. I bounded out into the main living area to find it quiet.  My parents were probably storing up for sleepless nights ahead. As a doctor, my dad often worked late hours at the Community Clinic or hospital.

With light steps, I moved through the dining area and past the built-in benches that doubled as couches. I grabbed a pair of well-worn tennis shoes from the shoe rack, and with them dangling in my hand, I stepped outside, facing what would be my home for the next two months. 

My first impression was right; we were parked in a citrus grove. On every tree ripe oranges hung like oversized Christmas ornaments.  In front of the Homeshield, a wide space divided us from another orchard growing lemons. Between the two groves, two sets of Traxx ran parallel, their thin metal rails contrasting with the low concrete walls and pale brown soil that held the Traxx firmly in place. Next to our Homeshield, on Lot Twenty-Six, another Homeshield sat silently resting in the morning light. Their lot marker also let me know we were in Community Forty-Seven.  I couldn’t help but wonder who would be my closest neighbor and how long would they be here.

Too curious to go back inside yet, I slipped on my tennis shoes, stepped down off the platform and began walking toward the safety sidewalk.  Beneath my feet, I felt the subtle vibrations of another Homeshield moving along the Traxx somewhere not too far away. Someone else was joining or leaving Community Forty-Seven today. I peered down the line now able to see the long row of shiny metal roofs butting up against the trees. The Homeshield made a turn about a quarter of a mile away and disappeared into the dense green. Past that, where the line of trees and Homeshields ended, the familiar Back to Basics family plastered to a billboard, marked the entrance to the community. It was my favorite photo of the family playing Frisbee on the beach together. I’d seen the same photo in other parcels and imagined my family at the beach ever since. In the far-right corner of the billboard was the tightly coiled back to basic symbol that was as familiar to me as my own bedroom. 

Moving into a community with my favorite billboard must be a good omen, I thought.

Maybe it was the warmth of the sun across my shoulders or the smell of the fruit filling the air. Either way, I felt jubilant, like a little girl and I jogged along the safety sidewalk counting Homeshields as I went.  One. two. three. I stopped. The Homeshield directly in front of me was painted, not just with a single color like most Homeshields; it was covered with a stunning mural. Endless towering cement buildings with glistening windows clustered together each one more magnificent than the other. Behind them, a brilliant blue sky curled up expansive and encompassing as it wrapped the top of the structure. The detail was incredible. Hundreds of windows marked rooms stacked one on top of another. Some windows were filled with tiny faces, others catching the light and throwing it back toward the sun. At the base of the Homeshield was painted leafy green trees, their lifelike canopies contrasting with a dark surface that looked like our Safety Sidewalks but were much longer and wider.   

In all my seventeen years of moving, I’d never seen anything like it.  Most of the buildings in our Community Centers were one story, built with lighter materials and painted with bland colors. Concrete was too rigid and heavy to move on the rails, and no one used glass anymore. It was too fragile. 

My Homeshield was boring beige. My mom said it would look good anywhere we stopped.  This home was obviously painted by a talented artist, someone who wasn’t afraid to draw a little attention to themselves. I moved closer to the Homeshield and felt my breathing quicken as if my body understood that I was moving closer to something forbidden. 

Don’t wake my mom, a warm, deep voice called out from the trees closest to me. She’s a grouch in the morning.

I whipped my head around to track the sound. My hands clenched reflexively into a fist. Even though it was daylight, I suddenly realized how very alone I was in a community full of strangers.

I’m over here, the voice called out. The rustling of the leaves drew my eyes just before I saw his legs come down out of the branch where he’d been sitting. His scuffed-up tennis shoes and jeans were the first things to appear. I waited, breathless for several heavy heartbeats and then the person belonging to the voice ducked under the branches and slipped out from beneath the tree.

Standing against the vibrant green backdrop and endless blue sky, I wondered if he was a mirage.  His wavy dark hair fell across his forehead, and peeking out beneath his chestnut locks were blue eyes nearly as pale blue as the sky.

I closed my eyes purposely clearing my vision. Having another teenager on your row was uncommon, let alone a breathtakingly-gorgeous-boy-teenager that made your pulse race just by looking at him.

I swallowed hard and opened my eyes. He was still there, and now he was grinning at me.  Intuitively, I checked my ashy blond hair that I’m sure resembled a rat’s nest instead of anything presentable.  Self-consciously, I ran my fingers through it trying to smooth it out.

I didn’t think anyone would be out this early, I said sounding far more defensive than I intended.

He chuckled. I guess that point was already obvious. You must’ve arrived last night, he said, taking several steps closer to me. His lips still hinted at a smile. 

I did, I replied, wishing I could think of something brilliant to say.

Do you like the mural? he asked, motioning in the direction of the Homeshield I’d been admiring.

Oh good, he’d given me something we could talk about.  He was so pleasant to look at that I didn’t ever want to stop talking to him. 

I do, I said honestly. What’s it a picture of?

He took a couple more steps forward. Now we were close enough to touch if we both reached out our hands. I was considering it.

It’s New York City, when the pandemic hit forty-nine years ago.   

I didn’t know what New York City was but I didn’t want him to know that. In just two more strides, he was right next to me reaching down to take my hand.  For some crazy reason, I offered it to him. With his fingers over my fisted hand, he gently pulled me to the side of his residence and pressed my hand to the mural. 

My mom lived here, he said. On the thirty-fourth floor of this building.

He left my hand against the tepid exterior of his Homeshield and I let my fingers open like a flower in bloom, now touching the detailed picture in front of me. 

This one? I asked, feeling the bumpy texture of the paint. He pressed his palm over mine again resting it softly there. My heartrate responded.

Yes, he confirmed.   

I turned and found myself face to face with this boy, a virtual stranger. I didn’t even know his name but somehow, I sensed that he was important, that he might even change everything. I hoped so.

My name is Montana Tanner, he said without moving back. Named after the state of Montana. 

I didn’t know what that was either, but couldn’t seem to find the courage to ask. Instead, I focused on a small dimple that appeared on the right side of his face when he smiled. That at least allowed me to avoid his intent gaze while I figured out what to do next.

I’m Jetta Banks, I finally offered and then added, would you mind moving back a little.

Respectfully, Montana took a couple of steps backward but his good-natured grin still didn’t fade. When his hand left mine, the cool air rushed in, and I quickly tucked my hand in my pant pockets to compensate for the delicious warmth we’d shared.

It’s nice to meet you, he said. Then, almost as if he now felt awkward, he finished with, "I’ve got to get to