Secrets of Hopelight

By Eva Blackstone

The future Earth where Nubbin Beck lives is as unforgiving as The Company that runs it. She has never been outside, only peered through a glass barrier at a punishing desert where daytime temperatures boil the blood and monstrous, human-devouring insects dominate the night. Nubbin's family survives in a technology-driven cave community named

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mollusc Bay Books
• Release date: Oct 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781949385755

Eva Blackstone

Eva Blackstone has always been fascinated by storytelling. She was eleven when she won her first poetry contest and has been writing poetry, short stories, and novels ever since. Her middle grade novel Bad Mojo, Mollusc Bay Books, released 2015, also features the power of friendship, which is a common theme in her work. She has lived all over the U.S., traveled all over the world, and currently lives near the Great Lakes with her human family, and several fur babies.

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Secrets of Hopelight

Eva Blackstone

Mollusc Bay Books

FRANKFORT, ILLINOIS

Copyright © 2018 by Eva Blackstone

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Mollusc Bay Books

an imprint of Slug Pie Stories, LLC

8126 W. Evergreen Drive

Frankfort, Illinois 60423

www.molluscbaybooks.com

www.SlugPieStories.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

Cover design © 2018, Kat Powell

Cover illustration © 2018, Kat Powell

Secrets of Hopelight/ Eva Blackstone. -- 1st ed.

ISBN 978-1-949385-75-5

To Carrie, your kindness brightened my darkest hour

Contents

Chapter 1: Rescue

Chapter 2: Hands-on Lesson

Chapter 3: Barter Night

Chapter 4: The Dead Man’s Secret

Chapter 5: A Tangled Web to Weave

Chapter 6: Puzzling Progress

Chapter 7: Access Denied

Chapter 8: Piper’s Secret

Chapter 9: Eavesdrop

Chapter 10: The Oversears

Chapter 11: Gifts

Chapter 12: End of Year Celebration

Chapter 13: The Boy from Moonwater

Chapter 14: The Game

Chapter 15: Talin’s Secret

Chapter 16: A Managerial Visit

Chapter 17: Nubbin’s Secret

Chapter 18: Confrontations

Chapter 19: The Lesser of Two Evils

Epilogue: Broadcast

Chapter 1: Rescue

Light crept across the desert, the night releasing its hold to scorching white day. Hordes of insects fell silent and a thousand reptiles scurried back underground, leaving a mosaic of trails in the dust. A mountain of homework stood between Nubbin and a good day’s sleep. But homework could wait just a little longer. She paused in front of the viewing wall, dancing her fingers across the glass, watching the sun ease into view.

The first burning wave rolled across the horizon. The advancing surge swelled, blurring the edge between land and sky, knocking the scrub brush flat. She let go of her breath, still amazed by the heat that accompanied first light.

Air rumbled and rushed around her body. For a moment, she was sure the heat had finally broken through the glass barrier to chase her into the kitchen. She tore away from the viewing wall only to smack her leg on the corner of the dining table. Wincing, she stumble-sat into a chair.

Her brother Rand snickered from behind. The movement she’d sensed was only the air handlers starting for the day. She rubbed her leg absently as the machines wrapped her in layers of crisp, filtered air.

You really shouldn’t touch the glass once the sun is up. Mother pressed buttons on the kitchen panel to close the sun shields. One of these mornings you’re going to burn yourself.

Rand snickered again, this time through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Want some? He held the bowl out to her, yellow glop squeezing out from the corners of his lips.

No. She wrinkled her nose at him and motioned the gag reflex until she caught Mother frowning at her. Thank you anyway, she added with mandatory politeness.

He didn’t respond, looking right past her. There’s something wrong with the shield. It looks like it’s jammed.

Stay put, Nubbin. Mother approached the glass and examined the shield stuck about a quarter of the way down. Rand, grab a heat mitt for me, will you?

He brought over the delicate silver mitten. When she slipped her hand inside, the fabric clung to her fingers as if they’d been painted in liquid metal. She pressed lightly against the shield, and then snatched her hand back with a gasp.

Are you burned? Are you okay? Rand appeared by her side, turning her covered hand over in his.

I’m fine. Go get your father. Tell him to come right away.

Mother?

Go, she insisted.

He brushed roughly past Nubbin on his way out.

Not staying put, she rushed to Mother, whose eyes were fixed on something beyond the glass. What is it? What do you see?

I think there’s someone outside. Look. She pointed, her hand still encased in the mitten.

Off in the distance, something staggered across the desert. The winds always picked up during the day, so between the blowing dirt and rippling heat, it was hard to determine exactly what the something was.

Are you sure it’s a person? It could be one of Jenson’s dogs got out.

It’s a person, Nubbin. Look how he tries to walk upright.

What’s he doing outside in the daytime? It was Rand rejoining them with Father. George, her older brother, was close behind.

He won’t be alive much longer. A statement of fact only her father spoke, but she was sure all of them were thinking the same thing. She knew she was.

We can’t leave him out there, Mother said. Please, Malcom.

Father sighed. Rand, George, get our heat suits ready. Nubbin, message Doc, tell him to bring his hyperthermia meds. Merebeth, you’ll need to prepare a bath.

But water is low, Father. It’s the end of the week. Nubbin knew the last day of the week was a ration day. They wouldn’t have enough water to drink their share, let alone fill the tub for a stranger.

He clasped her shoulder, not quite shaking her, but gripping firmly enough for her to know not to argue. We must do what we can for this man, even if it means we have to give up some of our water to do it. Others before self, he said, quoting one of the Company’s many slogans. Don’t second-guess me, just do as I say. He turned to Merebeth, but she’d already left to prepare the tub. It will be fine, Nubbin, he said, still facing the place where Mother had stood. You worry too much for someone so young. Save the worrying for adults. He relaxed his grip on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Off you go.

She tried not to give in to the normal frustration she felt after a one-sided conversation with Father. She had her instructions, and time was not on the side of the man outside. The lack of humidity at the end of the week would help, and morning heat was nowhere near as hot as it would be at midday, but the man already struggled to move. By afternoon, without protection, the blood in his veins could boil.

And then she couldn’t forget the dust. Without a face mask and filter, his lungs would be coated with red earth. He’d suffocate.

She slid into Father’s desk chair. Her hands trembled as she typed their pass code into the keypad that materialized in front of her fingers.

Request? The computer’s voice was silky and calm, in sharp contrast to her racing heart.

Doc Twombly, please, she responded, trying to echo the computer’s tone.

One moment.

A projection of a groggy man’s head appeared to hover, disembodied, over the desk. Nubbin? What’s up, dear? Doc attempted to be cheery, but it was obvious she’d disturbed him from his sleep. Why aren’t you in bed? Not feeling well?

Upon seeing Doc, her composure slipped away. It’s not about me, Doc. I’m fine, but we need you here right away. Father says to bring your hyperthermia meds, too. She couldn’t tell if it was the urgency in her voice or the mention of the meds, but Doc was definitely awake now.

Oh dear, oh dear. I’ll be right there. His image dissolved into tiny moving particles.

Concluded? the computer asked.

For a moment, she wondered if she should contact the Overseers. The Company would want to know about the rescue, would want to interview the man, maybe take him into custody. But Father had given specific instructions.

Concluded, she confirmed as she scooted away from the desk.

It would take Doc only about fifteen minutes to navigate through the tunnels. He should arrive well before her father and brothers returned. She headed to the exit room to see if they’d left yet. The heat gear could take some time to put on. When she passed her parents’ bedroom, she checked on Mother, who was filling the tub. Need any help?

No, I’m almost done. It should be the right temperature soon, and we can hold it steady with the thermowarmer.

Nubbin didn’t even know they had a thermowarmer. The right temperature?

It has to be cool but not too cold, or the blood vessels in the skin will constrict. Our patient won’t be able to release the heat from his body if that happens. Go check to see if your father needs a hand with the door. And bring him one of the reflective blankets from the closet. He can wrap the man in it for the trip back. Mother’s face was full of nerves and worry, but like Nubbin, she could always distract herself by keeping busy.

She hurried to the closet and got flustered looking for the right blanket. Get it together, girl, this is no time to be scatterbrained. Talking to herself helped, and in a moment she was down the stairs leading to the exit room, blanket in hand.

Father sat on a bench, latching his boots. The thin material of the heat suits crinkled loudly as her brothers shuffled about in the small room, slathering their faces with white paste. George held the jar, and Father scooped some out and began rubbing it on his own worn face. The thick paste filled in the lines and creases. When he was done, he smiled at her. Only his eyes and the inside of his mouth weren’t coated, making him look like a cross between a clown and a death mask. He winked, which only added to the illusion.

Doc’s on his way, she told him. And Mother’s got the tub full.

Good. I see you brought a blanket. Fine idea.

It was Mother’s idea. She never would’ve thought of it on her own. Original ideas didn’t come easily for her. And right now? Without directions, she’d be at a complete loss. Mostly, she was afraid. Afraid of the new experience and especially afraid for Father and her brothers. She’d never been outside. Her travels were confined to the network of tunnels connecting the other cave homes in her enclave. Earth was dangerous, to be observed safely behind sheets of tempered glass. If you ventured out during the day, the dust and heat could kill you, and at night, well—that was still reserved for only the bravest. Just thinking about it made her hands turn clammy and her heart race.

What’s the temp now, Father? George asked.

He glanced at the monitor on the wall. One thirty-eight Fahrenheit. We’d better get out there so we can get back before midday. Nubbin, help me with my helmet.

She reached for the helmet as Father secured the suit’s hood under his chin. Together they placed the helmet on his head, and she fastened the snaps that connected it to the suit. She hoped she was doing it right. She’d seen heat suits worn only once before, when Mrs. Grobos forced her class to endure the Company’s demonstration video.

Switch it on, please. A small toggle on the side of the helmet turned on the cold filter. It was designed so the dusty air inhaled through the mouthpiece would be filtered and cooled before entering the lungs. Once encased inside the helmet, a small microphone/receiver allowed him to hear and speak. His voice sounded tinny and far away.

Okay, Nubbin, that’ll do. Close the door behind you. You can watch us from the viewing wall. Without waiting for a response, he turned to face the door to the outside. Ready, boys?

George and Rand gave Father a thumbs-up.

She stared at her brothers, wondering if she’d see them again. Her spit dried and her tongue felt too big. What if they all died today, trying to rescue some man they didn’t even know?

Father looked back over his shoulder. Go on, Nubbin. We can’t open this door until you’ve closed that one.

She stepped out of the exit room and pressed the large sensor pad on the wall. The overhead door lowered, blocking the men of her family from view. As soon as the door rested against the seal, she heard the second door open, the one to the outside. With nothing more to see or do here, she ran, and her insides churned like the dust and heat in the exit room. Part of her couldn’t wait to watch the rescue. The other part filled with dread.

Doc Twombly had joined Mother. They stood a safe distance from the glass. The jammed sun shield was now completely open, and already the room was warmer than usual, even though the other five shields were shut tight.

Well, it looks like they got off okay, Doc said.

Through the glass, she saw the man on the horizon. He no longer moved, or even stood. Her father and brothers struggled to make their way to him across the baked landscape. A northwest wind whipped their heat suits around their bodies, driving them toward the crumpled lump.

It was a long walk; thirty minutes passed before the men finally reached the stranger.

It felt much longer.

Rand and George hoisted the man’s body so Father could swaddle him in the heat blanket. In an awkward, heat-battered procession, they started the journey back.

Nubbin rocked cross-legged on the floor, her face cupped in her hands, watching the wind push the travelers back one foot for every two they move forward. Doc paced and muttered to himself. She caught snatches like crazy and too old for this. Mother stood motionless, but the white knuckles of her hands gave away her nervousness. Besides Doc’s mumbling, the hum of the air handler was the only other sound in the room.

At last the men were close enough for Doc and Mother to make preparations. Nubbin followed without being asked, because honestly, she didn’t know what else to do. Doc opened his bag and spread his instruments and meds out on the table in her parents’ bedroom. Mother pulled out towels and stacked them by the cold tub. Nubbin stayed close, but not too close to get in the way.

Nubbin?

Here, Mother.

Go let your father in, please. She made the request using her everyday tone, and Nubbin stood there, thinking how strange and surreal this was.

Now!

Well, that was more like it. She hurried to the inner door and saw the green light flashing, announcing that it was safe to open. She slammed the sensor pad so hard her palm went numb and her fingers tingled.

Their helmets and suits off, their hair slick with sweat, Father and her brothers carried the bundled man past her and up the stairs. Close the inner door, Father called over his shoulder.

When she joined them in the bedroom, the heat blanket was off and the man lay on the bed, face up, unmoving. She knew severe dehydration when she saw it. He wasn’t perspiring like Father and her brothers. Sunburn and grime coated his skin in crimson brown, the same dirty color as his boots, clothes, and gloves. His chest stayed still instead of rising and falling with breath. Was she looking at a corpse?

He’s wearing a Company uniform, Mother whispered. A pilot?

Father nodded and took Mother’s hand. Nubbin and her family stood together against the wall, watching expectantly as Doc began his examination.

Someone help me flip him over.

George stepped forward, and he and Doc rolled the man facedown on the bed. Doc then moved the scanner along the back of the man’s skull and neck, trying to locate his embedded med chip, which would give Doc the man’s medical history, genetic profile, and current vital signs. Then he could get instructions from the master medical database for what to do next.

The scanner hummed, but the light beam remained mysteriously red. Doc scrunched his furry eyebrows. He moved the scanner down the man’s spine and then back up to his shoulders.

Where is it?

Doc, try his hand. He might be old enough to have the microchip placement we have, Father suggested.

Oh, yes, that’s right. Doc chuckled as he raised the scanner over the man’s left glove. The scanner’s light glared red. He reached across the man’s body and scanned his right hand. Still red.

What is going on here? Who is this man? Doc glared at Father.

I have no idea. I’m as baffled as you are.

Look, Mother spoke up. His left hand, it’s at a strange angle.

Wait a minute. Doc set down the scanner. With one hand, he braced his weight near the man’s left elbow; with the other hand, he raised up the man’s sleeve, exposing the top of the glove cinched and tied with cord halfway up his forearm.

Merebeth? Doc asked. Would you be a dear and hand me my scissors?

Mother swept over to the table, grabbed the scissors, and presented them. Doc snipped the cord and gently gripped the thumb of the glove. In one fluid motion, he pulled the man’s glove off.

Even Father gasped.

The man’s left hand was gone. Only a ragged stump remained.

Well now, that changes everything, doesn’t it? Doc said.

The handless man certainly changed Doc’s approach to patient care. Without the microchip, he had to determine all the man’s vitals manually. Doc called it doing things the old-fashioned way. She’d heard of Doc doing his doctoring manually only when her friend Piper had had to have her faulty chip replaced. It was a rare enough occurrence when someone’s chip went bad; she’d never known of a person who didn’t have one at all. No wonder Doc seemed squirmy. She was squirmy too, and she tried to look at the stranger’s face instead of at his gruesome wrist with its torn and jagged flesh.

We’re going to have to strip this man down so I can get a good look at him. Let’s make sure he has the other hand, okay? Doc added in a mumble, And all his other body parts for that matter. Then he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. Nubbin, he said, surprised. Young lady, you’d better leave. I don’t think your father is quite ready to expose his thirteen-year-old daughter to a naked adult male. Merebeth, I assume you can stay? I’ll need you as my assistant.

Fourteen in a couple months, she cut in.

Come on. George took her hand. Let’s go make ourselves useful.

As she left at her brother’s insistence, she heard Doc muttering again. Been awhile since I found a pulse on my own. He’d better have his other hand or I’m going to have to find a book.

She hated to leave, and it wasn’t because she was interested in male nudity. Both accidentally and unfortunately, she’d walked in on a not-quite-dressed Rand on two separate occasions. No, she wanted to stay to see if the man would survive. She didn’t want him to die, and she said as much to George once they were in the kitchen.

I don’t know. Who knows how long he was out there exposed? The nearest enclave is a hundred and seventy miles away. We saw him at sunrise, so that means he had to be traveling at night, but he didn’t have any protection on him—not even a gun. It’s a wonder the reptiles didn’t eat him. He has to have some insect bites, too; he might even have venom in his body along with the hyperthermia. And did you see where he lost his hand? That wasn’t a healed wound. Someone or something did a recent hack job on him.

Trying to block the image from her mind, she distracted herself with questions. I don’t understand. Why was he traveling outside without gear and a suit? And did you hear Mother talking to Father? She said his clothes were from the Company.

Yeah, I heard that too. George drifted off into his own silent thoughts. He rubbed the sweat and paste from his face with a kitchen rag.

And what are we going to do with him if he recovers? she wondered aloud. It’s not like we have the room in this place. Don’t we have to notify someone that we found him? The Overseers are going to want to know about him, right?

Those are all great questions. Too bad I don’t have any answers for you. Suddenly he perked up. Let’s make something to eat and drink for everyone. I know I’m pretty thirsty after being outside.

He busied himself grabbing cups out of the cabinets. She joined in the work and took the container of vegetable juice from the cooler.

Nothing for me, bro. Rand sauntered in as if dropping off a mutilated man in their parents’ bedroom was something he did every day. I’m going to bed. I’m supposed to get up for work by four. If you know what’s good for you, you’d go to bed too. He grabbed one of the drinks she’d poured, drank half in one long gulp, banged the cup down on the counter, and left.

George snapped a cover on the cup and put it in the cooler. He’ll have to finish this when he wakes up.

You know he’ll waste it. He always does.

Well, let’s give him a chance. I’ll drink it if he doesn’t.

Typical George, always sticking up for others. She couldn’t help but prefer him to Rand. They were completely opposite in both appearance and character. George, tall and lean, was kind, where Rand was short, muscular, annoying, and . . . well, that’s what described him best: annoying. Where George would put everyone before himself, Rand was all about himself. With deftness, Rand managed to change every conversation into something about Rand.

George put his hand on her shoulder. He’s right about one thing: you should go to bed. I know Dad will insist you still go to school tonight.

You’ve got to be kidding! I’m still supposed to go to school? With all that’s going on here? No way. Mother and Father might need us.

He just shook his head at her.

What about you? Are you going to work?

I don’t know yet. But after we finish making up these plates, I’m going to try to get some sleep. Being outside ripped the energy right out of me. And really, you need to sleep too. You don’t want to get sick like your friend Piper.

I haven’t been sick a day in my life. One day staying up isn’t going to change that.

And what exactly do you hope to accomplish by staying up all day? Bragging rights to Piper and Talin?

Staying up all day wasn’t worth swanking about to her friends. Piper would just shrug her off, and Talin would be quick to point out he’d stayed up more than twenty-four hours lots of times.

Well, for one thing, I can help you serve this food. She placed the small portions of warm bread George pulled out of the nanwave onto five individual plates. When the nanwave buzzed again, George removed a small platter of spiced chicken. The fatty, peppery smell flooded the kitchen, and her stomach growled with rowdy approval. Her brother heard it, and she could tell he was trying not to laugh at her.

I guess we warmed this food up just in time, he said. You start eating. I’ll take the tray in.

I’ll go too.

He began to protest.

"Come on, I want to peek. See if