In Hiding

By H. W. Vivian

A dream. A memory. That's all Brij remembers of her past - as well as the fact that she was abandoned by a dirt road at the age of three. After getting picked up by a passing stranger who seemed to know everything about her, she lives the next fourteen years of her life in an enormous nuclear power plant, performing high-intensity sports games inside the plant's five-mile reactor for spectators - people who keep the plant operating. Most days, she doesn't mind. Then again, she doesn't have a choice - if she refuses to perform, she's at risk of being abandoned all over again. When mysterious images start haunting Brij during the performances, she begins to wonder if her life in the plant is real. No matter how much she tries to ignore them, they keep coming back. A series of strange events start to unfold that ultimately leads her to make a choice - whether to live a lie, or face the truth of what she really is, and why she's here.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jan 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781483479279

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Copyright © 2018 H. W. Vivian.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published by:

Chasers Publishing LLC

139-50 35th Avenue, Flushing, NY 11354

[phone]

ISBN: 978-1-4834-7928-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-7927-9 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 12/18/2017

Also by H. W. Vivian

Chasers

War of Rain

The Goddess: A War of Rain Novel

Somewhere Beneath: A War of Rain Novel

Thank you…

Reina Glenn, for always keeping my stories (and thoughts) on track.

Theresa Flaherty, for sharing your amazing talent with me and my stories.

Aylin Deniz, for cheering me on through thick and thin.

PROLOGUE

The first thing I remember is a magnificent orb of light. It’s filled with the most astounding colors, and music more majestic than I have ever heard. In this light, I feel unstoppable, limitless.

But I can’t shake the feeling that something important has gone missing, and that only I could fill this void. Furthermore, I need to do that soon, before something bad happens.

So I do the unthinkable. I fling myself away from the beautiful, magnificent light and drift down into the glacial darkness surrounding it. As the light fades, so does my knowledge of it, dissipating like smoke.

Before I know it, I’m standing by the side of a dirt road on a warm summer evening. Thick luscious grass stretches around me for miles, leafy trees dotted across it. Half of the sky is a deep, meditative blue while the other, the rosy purple of sunset. As the wind kicks up my hair, something brushes against my legs and I look down to see the skirt of my orange dress pressing to my skin, the grass tickling my ankles above my little red shoes. The careless chirps of crickets floated into my ears while the breeze rustles through the leaves of the trees, as soft as a sigh.

Suddenly I am alive. Not like I was in the light, but in a different way—a flesh-and-bone kind of way. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t even know where here is. All I know is that I’m doing something important.

A dream. A memory.

A hand slips gently into mine, and I turn to see a boy gazing quizzically back at me with pear-green eyes. His short golden hair is a pop of dandelion against the endless backdrop of green.

Bridgette? he says, barely a whisper.

Benjamin, I respond.

He smiles, and I smile too. Those are our names in these bodies. At least we know that much.

His grip tightens as he leans closer, his expression serious now. We’re never supposed to be alone. Got that? We can never be separated as long as we’re here.

We’re always supposed to be together, I agree, nodding.

The sound of rolling tires crackles in the distance, and we look down the road with a start. Quickly approaching is a sleek black vehicle, its windows tinted so we can’t see the passengers inside.

After a moment it eases to a halt in front of us, and the back door opens just a crack, revealing a pale glow from within. Voices trickle out into the dusk.

You sure it’s them? a woman asks.

It has to be, a man responds gruffly. No parent in their right mind would leave their kids out here in the middle of nowhere.

Benjamin and I glance anxiously at one another. Is that what happened to us? Were we left—abandoned?

But they’re so small, the woman says. The other two didn’t look like that when—

"They aren’t that small, the man interrupts. They’re three—the same age as Avine and Aster when they first showed up, remember? And look how nice that turned out, those damn brats."

Avine and Aster. Why do those names sound so familiar?

I told you, Zachary, I didn’t know that would happen.

The man grunts. "Just make sure the same doesn’t happen with these two. I don’t want to go renovating the facility every time some teenager decides to have a tantrum. Our shareholders are already pissed enough with production being down one hundred percent."

The door swings open and the man stomps out, his immaculate leather shoes out of place in the dirt. He towers over us like a giant, with shoulders square and rigid, and a set of icy teal eyes seemingly frozen in their sockets to form an expression anticipating trouble. A paintbrush stroke of well-oiled hair frames his angular head, sideburns trailing down next to his ears. He can’t be very old, but he’s not young either.

His lips curl into a forced smile as he struggles to lower himself to our height.

Well, hello there, he says. My name is Zachary Hoult, and I’ve been expecting the two of you. What are your names?

Benjamin and I exchange a glance. Are we supposed to already know this man?

My name’s Benjamin.

I’m Bridgette.

Zachary’s stiff smile widens.

Benjamin and Bridgette. Perfect, memorable names, but maybe a little long. How about I call you two Ben and Brij for short? It’ll be a lot easier going forward.

Uh, I begin hesitantly, but Ben is already nodding.

Sure, he says, and looks to me pointedly. Apparently he’s more willing to trust this man than I am.

Great! Zachary declares. You two must be wondering why you’re here.

Are you going to tell us? I ask.

Of course I will, Zachary chuckles, a nervous twitch in his brow. I’ll tell you everything you want to know about yourselves back at my facility. It’ll be your home here. All you have to do is get in the car. With a sweep of his arm, he motions to the shadowy vehicle.

I turn to look at Ben, but he’s already heading for the door.

Ben! I call after him, shocked at his gullibility. Wasn’t he the one who just told me we were never to be separated?

Don’t worry, Brij. Zachary points toward Ben, who’s now climbing into the car. There are lots of people there who’ll take care of you. Everything will be just fine.

Looking up again at Zachary’s stiff smile, I wonder what it is about him that doesn’t seem right. He knows so much about us, yet has told us so little about himself.

I glance nervously back at the darkening landscape. Ben and I are here by ourselves, with no one to tell us who we are or what we’re doing.

I suppose we have no choice but to trust Zachary.

Reluctantly, I follow Ben into the car. He slides down to make room for me, settling comfortably next to the woman at the far end. Her earth-toned face is bathed in the light of the car and her lips are curled in a cheeky, youthful grin that softens the shallow lines behind her eyes.

She leans forward over her knees, resting her chin in her hands. Hey there, she says brightly. I’m Leona. I hope we can become really good friends.

The woman’s voice is spirited like the wind rustling through the trees, and my caution eases.

I hope so, too, I return with a shy grin.

Zachary settles into the seat next to me and closes the door. Immediately, the light of the car extinguishes, plunging us into shadow. He murmurs to a mysterious uniformed driver and we’re on our way, the dimming landscape outside floating past us in a blur.

I peer curiously at Zachary as he pulls a device from his pocket. Flipping it open, he pushes some glowing numbers and holds it to his ear.

Ring, ring. Click.

Where are they now? Zachary demands sourly. A pause. "Well, did you at least get him? Another pause. Okay, I see. Alright then, let him go. He’s of no use to us now."

After a moment, he flips his device closed and turns to Leona. Make sure these two are on the same schedule as Avine and Aster. The same training regimen, the same diet—everything.

Will do, Leona says. But what about—

Nothing good, Zachary snaps, shaking his head. They’re both dead to me now.

Clearing my throat, I ask tentatively, Who are Avine and Aster?

The adults look at me sharply, and immediately I wish I hadn’t spoken up. Zachary opens his mouth to respond, but Leona speaks before he does.

They’re your predecessors, honey.

Where are they? Ben asks.

Leona’s smile falters. They’re retired. They went somewhere to get lots of rest.

Will we ever go there? I ask.

Zachary scoffs. Hopefully never, considering what you are.

Ben meets my gaze. What we are?

You said you’d tell us everything we want to know about ourselves, Ben says, looking over at Zachary. So…what are we?

This time, the adults exchange glances.

Just know that you two have a very important purpose here, Zachary says.

And what’s that? I ask.

To help people, he answers firmly. To give them hope. No one else here can do what you two can. And once we show you what that is, it’ll be your job to continue doing that for as long as possible.

PART 1

IN HIDING

CHAPTER 1

Fourteen Years Later

Inhale. Exhale. Pause. Reflect.

I rotate my left shoulder back, then forward, then back again. It’s been aching for a while now, but no matter what I do, the pain won’t go away. Warm baths, massages—nothing works. The nerve there is pinched, I know it. Maybe it’s the temperature of my room. The facility’s staff constantly keeps it below seventy degrees to prevent me from overheating. You’d think after living here for fourteen years—never venturing to the outside world—that I’d have grown accustomed to the cold by now, and yet it still bothers me.

I rub the sore spot on my shoulder and my muscles relax a bit, but not enough for the pain to subside. My next performance is coming up, and I’m doomed to endure twenty minutes of agony with this sore shoulder.

I think I might have to change my position.

Downward dog, Leona’s voice plays in my head. Sometimes, stretching the whole body will alleviate the strain in only one part of it.

I open my eyes to the malachite green wall of my bedroom, which is only dimly lit from the single bulb in the ceiling.

Shifting on my yoga mat, I lean forward onto my hands and straighten my legs out. My hamstrings stretch and I will my shoulder blades to shift backward.

I’d woken that morning from a strange dream. It was the day I’d first arrived on that dirt road fourteen years ago—after I’d left that magnificent orb of light with all its colors and music. Only this time, something big and momentous was coming toward me. Or was I going toward it? I clearly remembered flying through it, searching for the orb of light. I knew it was there but I just couldn’t see it. Somehow, though, I knew that if I just kept flying long and hard enough, eventually I was going to find it. Then everything would be just fine.

A dream. A memory.

The BPM monitor strapped to my wrist twists uncomfortably, counting every throb of my pulse. Normally my heart rate falls between 46 and 85 beats per minute, but if it gets to 100, I need to start calming myself down. Any higher and the monitor will start beeping to warn anyone around that they need to evacuate the area immediately.

This thing’s so annoying, I sigh, shaking my wrist futilely. Nothing I do will get the monitor off, though. The only way to remove it is through a very big explosion.

Pressing my hand back on the mat, I close my eyes again and try to concentrate on my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Pause. Reflect. Lungs expanding, diaphragm pushing down, blood rushing through my veins. Keep calm. Be peaceful.

I rotate my shoulder again and it feels a little better, but still not by much. I guess I’m going to have to bear it after all.

A knock raps at my door. Brij, you’re up!

I open my eyes and collapse down on my mat, all the rest and relaxation seeping out of me. Leona’s head peeks through the glass window at the top of my door. She turns and calls down the hall, Ben, that means you too! You’re both late!

So much for peace.

I trot toward my door and swing it open, giving Leona an exasperated stare. The lines have deepened upon her face over the years (no doubt from the trouble Ben and I have given her) and there are a few silver strands in her ponytail. Other than those, not much else has changed. Her hair is still perpetually short, the tip ending right above the collar of her various jumpsuits, all of them red.

Setting her hands on her hips, she scans me up and down, frowning.

What? I ask, annoyed.

What do you mean ‘what’? she shoots back. You’re not even dressed yet!

Yes I am. I indicate my matching yoga bra and pants, the ones with fancy blue and white prints on them. They’re the only articles of clothing I’ve ever gotten to choose for myself, and that was on my sixteenth birthday. Look, I have clothes on. So I’m dressed.

I mean for the performance, she says, flustered.

"I will be in a minute, if you can even spare one."

"You know you were supposed to be up there fifteen minutes ago, right? Leona sighs, shaking her head. Performances always start at two, and now it’s one fifty. Look at the time!" She steps aside and flings her arm out at the large glassy stats board built into the wall behind her.

Okay, so I might be a little late, I admit, shrugging.

"Brij, you’re seventeen. You’ve known the rules for, how long now? Oh yeah, over a decade. I love you and all, but I don’t want to have to go through this every week. And what were you doing, anyway?"

Yoga stretches—what else?

Leona sighs again, and I feel a twinge of satisfaction. I love getting on her nerves. It’s the only way I know that she cares about me. Plus, it’s entertaining.

Well, Brij, however you do it, you better get your suit on now before the spectators get jittery. You know how Zachary hates that.

I know, I know, I say, rolling my eyes. "Anything for the spectators. After all, they’re way more important than we are."

Leona shouts impatiently down the hall again. "Ben! Get out here right now! You’re late!"

I hear Ben’s footsteps travel down the hall and a moment later he’s standing next to Leona, his large athletic body squeezed into a yellow explosive-resistant suit.

I slap my hands over my mouth, giggling uncontrollably.

A peeved look crosses Ben’s face.

"Shut up, Brij, it’s not like I chose to wear this."

It’s just… it’s just… I sputter through gasps. "You’re just so bright! You look like a big—"

Cut it out!

—bulky—

Okay, I get it.

"—banana!"

Ben raises a hand to his head, his short dandelion hair sticking out in tufts between his fingers. With ruddy cheeks, he turns to Leona. "Just for the record, Brij is the one who made me late. If it were me, I would’ve been up outside the gym a long time ago."

"I mean, have you looked at yourself? I continue giggling, motioning to his absolutely ridiculous getup. We’d have no problem finding you in a power outage. Why did we need to change the old suits, anyway? The red and black stripes were fine! I mean—"

Zachary thought a change would make you two look flashier for the spectators, Leona cuts in before I can make any more fun of Ben (another one of my favorite pastimes). "Now get out of those yoga pants before Zachary comes down here himself. Then we’ll have a real problem."

Don’t forget you’re going to look like a banana too when you put on your new suit, Ben shoots back, following Leona as she turns toward the elevator.

Yeah, but it looks funnier on you.

Ben sighs. Leona, make Brij stop!

"Stop wasting time, and get dressed now!" Leona hollers at me over her shoulder, now halfway down the hall.

Still chuckling, I step back into my room and sprint past my yoga mat toward the closet door, swinging it open until it bangs against the foot of my bed. The contents inside are sparse—three yellow suits just like Ben’s hanging on the steel rack, one extra sports bra next to them, and a small pile of wrinkled gray sweats on the floor.

Heart pounding faster now, I pull one of the suits off its hanger and shimmy into it, struggling a bit as it hits my thighs. I wriggle my arms into the sleeves and zip myself up, then turn to the mirror on the back of the closet door. My cinnamon hair is cut the same way as Ben’s—short and simple so it won’t get in the way while I’m performing. I’ve never been allowed to grow it past my ears, and that’s just fine with me.

Giving myself one last look-over, I giggle again. Now I’m a big bright banana just like Ben.

I pull on my shoes and spring back through my open door into the hall, sprinting by the stats board as I go. Five whole minutes have passed.

Did it take me that long to change? I mutter disappointedly.

An annoying perky voice booms through the walls.

"Aaaaand welcome back, folks, for another riveting performance here at The Hoult Energy Facility! I’m your host, Sherryyyyy Carltonnnnn!"

Bombastic music plays as cheers and applause ring throughout the facility.

Oh crud, I’m really late now!

I dive to the right and race down the adjacent hall toward the elevator bank. There, I slap frantically against the sleek silver button, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Now, we can’t have a great performance without great spectators, Sherry announces. "And that’s why, on behalf of Zachary Hoult and the entire Hoult Energy Company, I want to thank all our wonderful spectators for their generous contributions to our efforts for a cleaner, more energy-efficient world."

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! I urge anxiously, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

The doors finally open and I leap inside. I smash the middle button until the doors slide closed, then the elevator shoots up the three mile shaft with a hurried whoosh. Inside, I dance from foot to foot, watching the numbers count upwards. My heart rate is definitely augmented now.

After what feels like an eternity, the elevator doors open and I dash into the main control room, a sprawling space of high ceilings and fluorescent lights. Colossal energy gauges line the walls here, their dials forever quivering. The temperature here is slightly warmer, kept constantly in the mid-seventies to accommodate the staff. They rush about in white coats, their heads bowed studiously over their clipboards, murmuring to one another.

Ben and Leona stand at the far end of the room, facing a giant steel door.

Sliding between the moving coats, I make my way over to them and slap my hands on their shoulders. They jump and whirl around with a start.

Oh! Leona gasps. Brij, you know I’m too old for your antics!

Well look who decided to show up to her own performance, Ben taunts, grinning. We were about to send someone to look for you, but then decided we didn’t need to. After all, no one would miss you in a power outage.

I would’ve gotten here faster if they’d just built another elevator like we asked them to, I shoot back, frustrated. I flash the screen of my BPM monitor to them. My heart rate is already nearing eighty beats, and the performance hasn’t even started yet.

"That elevator is fast! Leona protests. It only takes, like, a minute to get up here. You’re the one who’s slow!"

Before I can argue back, the doors in front of us slide open to reveal a small windowless room lit by pale lights above. Cheers and applause roar behind the far wall.

Alright, guys, Leona says. Get in there, and don’t forget to do your best.

With that, she pushes us inside, and the doors slide quickly closed behind us.

Hanging on the wall are two sets of pads—one for our elbows, the other, our knees. A helmet hangs above both of them.

My heart sinks. Today’s performance will be mountain biking—Ben’s favorite sport, and my worst.

Without wasting another second, we separate and go for the guards, snatching them off and strapping them into their proper places.

Good luck, Ben says, smirking.

Speak for yourself, I shoot back.

Why thank you, but I won’t need it, Ben returns cynically. I seem to recall you saying that the last time I beat you at this sport…and the time before that, and the time before that…

Well, I’ve got a good feeling about today, I say. You never know—I might beat you this time.

Ha, slim chance.

With our protective gear on, we turn to the wall in anticipation. I rotate my left shoulder one last time, just to re-loosen it.

Another round of applause roars through the wall, so strong I can feel the vibration in my feet. Finally, the wall pulls open with a powerful suction sound. Smothering heat hits us like a punch in the face, the deluge of noise spilling through with it. An enormous metallic gym stretches out in front of us, a series of mind boggling ramps and mounds all connected by a winding pathway carved into the floor. Two shiny uranium mountain bikes are parked at the edge of the steep ramp in front of us.

And herrrrre they are, folks! Sherry’s perky voice announces. "Our proud Hoult Energy Scouts, Benjaminnnnn and Bridgeeeeette!"

Cheers boom through the arena, rising deafeningly. The music swells to match.

I gaze up at the ceiling, as I always do before a performance, to see two long tinted windows stretching out for the entire five-mile length of the gym. Murky figures peer down at us from above the glass, some sitting, others shuffling about.

The spectators. It’s them who Ben and I are helping, giving hope. They are people of the outside world.

Aaaaand now for the rules of today’s performance, Sherry announces again. The music fades, and the noise dies down. "This is a simple race. Our proud scouts are going to have twenty minutes to ride through this heart-pounding, five-mile obstacle course. The first to reach the end within the allotted time wins, and carries over their point to the next performance. Their goal is not only to win this race, but to push themselves to the limit in the process. Remember, there is no one else on this planet who can do what they do! No one!"

A giant scoreboard glows into view from a nearby wall, twenty minutes glaring down at us from above our names.

Scouts, mount your bikes!

Ben and I step toward the bikes and check the heights of the padded seats, testing the suspension. Once everything is set, we each swing a leg over the bikes and balance our feet on the pedals.

I lean forward to peer over the drop, following the ramp down ten or so feet with my gaze. It used to seem like nothing but a little jump, but now, with my shoulder pain, it’s morphed into a real challenge.

Sitting back on the seat, I scan the distance nervously—so many ups and downs, twists and turns. I take a deep breath, rolling my shoulder again just for good measure.

From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Ben looking over at me, worry flashing across his face.

Stay on the path, Brij, so you don’t injure yourself…more.

I roll my eyes at him. Have I ever done that to myself? Plus, it’s just a little ache. I’ll be fine.

He frowns. Look, our jobs here may be to compete against each other, but if anything happens to you, I’ll be useless. There’s no one else who can take your place.

I’ll be fine, I repeat flatly. But thanks for worrying about me. Leona would be proud that you were so sweet to me just now. I’m going to tell her about it when this is over.

Now it’s Ben’s turn to roll his eyes. Don’t flatter yourself. I only said that so you won’t mess up our performance.

Mhmm.

Scouts! On your marks.

Ben and I clasp tightly on the handles.

Get set…

We lean forward, preparing to push off.

GO!

The ear-shattering BONNNG of the score bell rings through the air. Ben and I kick back our breaks and push off at the same time, sailing down the ramp to the screams of the crowd. The walls rush by in blurs of metallic silver. I reach the bottom first, sailing along the curved path. The temperature of the gym rises immediately into the low nineties. Sweat forms on my brow.

The first obstacle comes up fast, a small bump in the path that looks like nothing but a bubble bulging out of the floor. I pass smoothly over it, barely losing my balance, and glide confidently onward.

Whoa, look at that, folks! Sherry says. Ben may be four points ahead of Brij, but Brij is already getting a head start in this performance! You go, girl!

I cringe. Technically, all Sherry’s supposed to do is kiss up to the spectators and tell us how much time we have left in our performances, but she always takes the liberty of inserting her own commentary. It’s both amusing and annoying—but mostly the latter.

Ben’s yellow-clad body speeds out from behind, quickly surpassing me on his way toward the next mound.

Oh, there goes that spunky Ben again, showing off his moves, Sherry chuckles. For those who were here at the last biking race, you might remember him passing Brij just like this in the middle of the course. It was real tight, as always, but the best biker clearly won. Looks like he’s taking the lead early this time!

Hey, that’s not fair! I shout up at the ceiling. "I don’t even like biking! You can’t compare the two of us like that!"

Determined to win back my head start, I lean forward and pedal as hard as I can.

The next obstacle looms into view—an especially tall mound that’s practically a miniature hill. I pedal even harder, shooting past Ben at the top and landing expertly back at the bottom on the other side, my body steeled from the impact.

Oh, but that Brij’s got some moves of her own! Sherry cheers. Never underestimate her!

Finally, some support.

I sail down the path by myself for a few minutes, the scorching air whipping at my face. It’s not long before Ben catches up, though, and soon we’re riding shoulder to shoulder. Together, we climb up the next hill, gravity pressing us into our seats. We fly off at the same time, but I hit the ground first, gripping my breaks hard to keep control from the throttle. I careen forward, leaving Ben far, far