Never See the Sun Again: Starlight and Ashes Trilogy, #1

By Susan Feltman

By the year 2350, New York City lies in ruins, utterly deserted, skyscrapers broken and open to the sky.  Forced underground by a hugely powerful hurricane 300 years earlier, the 7,000 souls who sheltered in the subway system became the sole survivors of what was once a great city.  Desperate and determined, New Yorkers pulled together, creating a sustainable, self-contained society in the 840 miles of subway platforms and tunnels which make up the City's subway system. Safe beneath the surface, they are free from the devastating effects of global warming, but are forbidden to leave.

 

Manny Stewart, son of the Chief of Police in the Colony, comes of age in a society which discourages questions about the outside world. Is it safe to return to the surface?  No one knows, and the technology to record and analyze the environment has been lost.  When Manny and his friends bribe a guard to open the door at Penn Station so they can watch the sun rise, they are astonished by what they see.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: ANJ Press
• Release date: Aug 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737164210

Susan Feltman

Susan Greenberg Feltman went to Windham College in Putney, Vermont, graduating with a BA in History. She worked in New York City as a legal secretary for several years, and then left the work force to raise her infant daughter.   After starting an online business in 1998, Custom Design Sweater Studio, she spent many happy years designing and knitting unique one-of-a-kind sweaters for actors, musicians and collectors. Now that she has retired from the design business, she has time at last to devote to her writing.   Susan lives in Leonia, New Jersey with her husband of 38 years.   Starlight, Shadows and Tears is the sequel to Never See the Sun Again, Ms. Feltman's debut novel. She is looking forward to beginning work on the third and final book in this series.

Book preview

Chapter One

MALCOLM STEWART WAS afraid. Ten years old and small for his age, he was walking alone on his way home from the elementary school in the Rockefeller Plaza promenade, head down. They were not far behind him now, calling back and forth to each other, laughing, joking about what they were going to do to him. Malcolm plodded ahead doggedly. There was no point in running; they were older and stronger, could catch him easily. It would end the way it always did; he knew that they would not stop until they had hurt and humiliated him. But what Malcolm did not yet know was that today would be different; today would be the day his life would change forever.

Hey, short stuff! We’re talkin’ to you! Malcolm, his heart sinking, continued to walk in front of them.

Come back here! they called. Give us your backpack, you little dweeb, and maybe we’ll let you go! One of the boys caught up to Malcolm, put his hand on Malcolm’s shoulder and spun him around. He grabbed Malcolm’s hat from his head and tossed it to his companion, laughing. What’s the matter? he taunted Malcolm. Want your hat back?

The leader, a slender blond boy, raised a hand in a gesture worthy of a Mafia boss, and his two followers grew quiet.

Bring me his backpack! he commanded, and one of the boys pulled the backpack off Malcolm’s back, fending off his desperate attempts to hold on to it. He opened it up and shook the contents out onto the ground, kicking several of the items to scatter among the potted evergreen trees, while the other boy held Malcolm’s arms behind his back.

Give that back! That’s mine! You can’t have it! Malcolm struggled with all of his strength, but the boy restraining him held on easily. It was always the same story; he was the small one, the weaker one. How he hated this.

Here! the leader called out as he tossed the backpack over Malcolm’s head to one of the other boys. Let’s see if the little monkey can catch it!

Laughing, they let Malcolm go, and tossed the backpack high up into the air, back and forth over his head. Malcolm stood still, refusing to participate. No, he thought, I’m not playing this game, not this time.

Whoa! cried the leader. The little brat thinks he’s too good for us! What, don’t you want this back?

He walked over to where Malcolm was standing, brazenly staring down into his face, dangling the backpack by one hand.

You want this? he taunted. What are you going to do about it? He laughed. You’re nothing, you know that? You’re a piece of shit. He pushed Malcolm in the chest, trying to knock him over, but Malcolm, although small for his age, was stocky and strong; he stood his ground.

Surprised, the ringleader kicked Malcolm once in the shin, hard. Next time you walk home from school, you’d better be looking over your shoulder, little man, because I’m gonna to be right behind you, he threatened.

And I’ll be right behind you, said a voice from behind Malcolm. Turning, he saw Julio Suarez, his face like thunder, reaching out and grabbing the boy by the collar. Touch him again and you’ll have me to answer to!

The bully raised both hands, palms outward, and took a step backwards. Get out of here! said Julio, And take your flunkies with you. If I see you so much as near him again, you’ll be sorry!

The boys turned and fled without a word. Julio bent down to the ground and began to gather up the contents of Malcolm’s backpack. Don’t let them get to you, bro, said Julio. They’re idiots.

Malcolm nodded, not yet trusting his voice. Together with Julio, he gathered up the rest of his meager belongings and stuffed them into the backpack.

Thanks, he said. I really mean it. I’m Malcolm, he added shyly, bowing slightly as he touched his right hand to his left shoulder and murmured, Health and prosperity to you, in the universal gesture of greeting. You’re Julio, right? Everybody knew Julio Suarez, a year older than Malcolm, friendly, easy-going and popular with his friends and teachers.

That’s right, Julio Suarez. Julio touched his right hand to his left shoulder in greeting, casually nodding to Malcolm. Has this happened before?

Yeah, more times than I can remember, replied Malcolm sadly. They pick on me because I’m small.

They’re crazy, especially the ringleader. I can give you some tips on how to deal with people like that. My Dad used to teach boxing; I can show you what he’s taught me.

At the age of 10, Malcolm was undeniably small for his age. He was worried that he would never be tall enough, although neither of his parents were short.

When humans had first moved underground in the late 2000’s, the height of an average woman was 5’4 to 5’6. Three hundred years later, in this Year of our Lady 2350, the average height of a woman had decreased by six inches, to 4’10 to 5’0. The height of an average man had also decreased, but by an astonishing twelve inches; average height had been 5’9 to 6’1, but was now only 4’9 to 5’1.

There were several theories for this, none of them proven. Scientists mused that this could be from the wholly plant-based diet, or from the lack of natural fresh air and natural sunlight in the underground colony. When this trend was first documented, it was the subject of many jokes. The women were amused, saying that the men were only needed for one thing anyway. Anything else, they said, they could do for themselves. The men were somewhat less than amused.

First of all, said Julio, never let them see that you’re afraid. A bully is basically a coward. If you’re not afraid of him, he’s already lost. If he gets close to you, then you get even closer. He can’t hit you with his fist if you are right up in his face, can he?

Julio moved close to Malcolm to demonstrate. So now that the two of you are this close, what should you do next? Julio asked Malcolm.

I don’t know, kiss him? asked Malcolm.

Julio laughed. No, don’t do that! Pull his hair, or reach around behind him and give him a wedgie, something to embarrass him in front of his friends. Remember, he can’t hit you if you are this close to him.

I’d rather not be anywhere near him, said Malcolm. I hope they find somebody else to pick on, and leave me alone.

Hoping won’t do it, though, replied Julio. You have to defend yourself, even if you wind up losing. Inflict some damage of your own, so you’re not an easy target. Trip him. Or don’t wait to see what he’s going to do; instead, surprise him by charging straight at him and knocking him flat on his back. Or lock your fingers together like this, Julio said as he demonstrated by clasping his hands together, interlocking his fingers to form a sort of cup, and catch him underneath his chin, hard, so he falls over backwards. Never let a bully walk all over you.

Julio and Malcolm were walking as they talked, moving away from the school and municipal buildings and past the row houses, through what had formerly been train tunnels, heading towards Julio’s home.

Like most citizens of the New York colony, Julio and Malcolm thought nothing of walking long distances. While some older people chose to use MotoPeds, a sort of motorized skateboard, most children simply took it for granted that if they wanted to go somewhere, they would walk. From the 50th Street Station, the underground complex where the schools and municipal buildings were located, to the 14th Street Station where Julio and his family lived, was 36 city blocks; this was not considered to be an unusually long walk. The boys walked with practiced ease either side by side or in single file, never once pausing in their conversation until they arrived at Julio’s home.

The Suarez home was a narrow but very tall older building at the far end of the platform at the 14th Street Station. It was dark near the entrance, partly due to the several potted shrubs leading up to the doorway, but the brightly colored tapestry covering the front door was cheerfully flowered in pink, green and white, the favorite colors of Julio’s mother.

Lucinda Suarez was in the kitchen when they walked in. Hi, Mama, I’ve brought a friend home, said Julio, walking over to the sink and kissing his mother’s cheek. His mother said, Hello there, looking from one boy to the other, waiting to be introduced.

This is Malcolm. I met him this afternoon after school.

Hello, Malcolm, she said, lightly touching her right hand to her left shoulder. He returned the greeting, saying respectfully in a clear voice, Health and prosperity to you, Mrs. Suarez, right hand touching his left shoulder while bowing to her, as his mother had taught him.

And your last name, Malcolm? she asked.

I’m Malcom Stewart, he replied. Julio and his mother exchanged glances.

Stewart? she asked. Are you related to Chief Patrick Stewart?

Yes, that’s my father, he replied. He saw the way her body language changed. Malcolm knew that people were afraid of his father, who had ruled the colony’s police force with an iron hand for over a decade.

Well, how about that, Lucinda said. I remember your father from school, years ago. It’s nice to meet you, Malcolm. I imagine that you boys would like to go ahead upstairs and play your video games. Malcolm, would you like to stay for dinner?

I’d love that, Mrs. Suarez, Malcolm said, glancing first at Julio to see if he approved. I’ll hologram my Dad to let him know where I am.

Lucinda nodded her approval and returned to fixing dinner, white rice and lentils stewed with tomatoes, carrots and sausage. Like all other citizens of the New York colony, the Suarez family did not eat meat. Instead, they relied on the excellent products created by the talented chefs at the Greenhouse and at Fish-n-Tails, the protein packaging facility. They had long ago perfected the technique of creating plant-based meat, and were able to make it taste like beef, pork, lamb, chicken, goat – whatever was required. After one or two generations had passed, no one remembered what an actual animal tasted like anyway, and no one wanted one. Indeed, the idea of eating an animal, one with a face and with the ability to fear its own death, was abhorrent to just about everyone in the colony.

Malcolm pulled out his padlet, the personal communication device which was required to be carried by all citizens at all times when outside of their homes, and opened up the hologram app, Levitate. Most people had a 360-degree photograph stored in their padlets to use when sending a hologram. The photograph was supposed to be updated every year, especially for children. Malcolm’s photograph was two years old, and he did not especially want his exciting new friend Julio to see the photograph of eight-year-old Malcolm with his cute little green backpack.

I’ll just go outside and send this to my Dad, he said to Julio. Be right back.

Julio nodded. That’s fine, bro. I’ll be upstairs. He sprinted up the narrow spiral metal staircase and was gone.

Malcolm went outside to send the hologram to his father. As usual, the Chief did not pick up. Malcolm dutifully left a hologrammie, a recorded hologram message telling his father where he was and when he would be home, knowing all the while that his father would not be home until well after Malcolm anyway.

Malcolm wondered if his father had even bothered to leave him dinner. The night before, he had either forgotten or just did not care anymore. Since his mother had died three years before, the Chief had grown more and more distant, working longer and longer hours.

All done there? asked Lucinda. Then go on ahead upstairs to Julio’s room. Dinner will be ready in about an hour.

Julio’s room turned out to be as cool as its occupant. High up beneath the roof, the tiny room, about 6 feet X 7 feet, had one side with the ceiling sloping right down to the floor, and a little round window facing the street. There was a futon sofa, with a second futon stored rolled up in the corner of the room, a small chair and a very tall and narrow chest of drawers called a Vertical, the ubiquitous piece of furniture found in most homes in the colony, so useful for saving space.

The room belonged to Julio alone, which was unusual. His older sister, Saratina, was married and lived with her husband in their own apartment. Julio did not have to share the bedroom with any family members, as was common with children. Privacy was a precious commodity in the colony, something that only the wealthiest citizens could afford. In some of the oldest homes, there was only one room for sleeping, and the entire family slept in one room.

In one corner of the room over near the slanted ceiling, a glass box on the floor was filled with lively brown field mice, naked pink tails twitching, dark little eyes looking warily back at him.

What’s with the mice? Malcolm asked Julio.

We had mice in the kitchen, so I started catching them and putting them in this terrarium, said Julio. But they started having babies, and soon there were dozens of mice. My Dad wanted to drown them, but I said that I’d find a purpose for them.

What do you do with them? asked Malcolm, fascinated by the squirming mass of rodents.

Let me show you, said Julio, laughing. From beneath his bed, he pulled out a long wooden box, and opened it up. Take a look in there.

Malcolm leaned over to look in the box, and startled, sprang backwards. A snake! Is that a snake?

Yes, that’s what it is alright, said Julio. Meet Ralph. Ralph looks hungry to me.

Where did you get a snake? asked Malcolm, fascinated. He had never seen a real snake before.

It came from the Greenhouse. Apparently, they get them in there every once in a while. I traded it for next to nothing.

Carefully removing the cover from the glass box, Julio reached in with one hand and picked out a lively round little mouse, dangling it in the air by its tail. Rest in peace, he chortled, dropping the frantic creature into the eager open mouth of the snake.

Cool, said Malcolm, eyeing his new friend with increased respect.

Let’s leave him out for a while. He likes to patrol. Julio put Ralph down on the floor, where he seemed content to lie still and digest his dinner. We let him roam around the house at night. There hasn’t been a mouse downstairs in a long time.

Dinner was lively and friendly, a surprise to Malcolm, who was used to an uncomfortable near-silence when eating with his father. Mr. and Mrs. Suarez took turns telling about their day, and then encouraged Julio and Malcolm to do the same. Events that had seemed unimportant at the time suddenly became the day’s news, with Julio’s family to listen to him, question him, laugh with him.

After dinner, Malcolm and Julio returned to his bedroom upstairs.

Thanks again for coming to the rescue earlier, said Malcolm. That was pretty cool.

You stood your ground today, said Julio. You didn’t run. That takes courage, to stand there and face them.

Yeah, but I still would have gotten beaten up if you hadn’t come along, Malcolm pointed out.

It needs some work, I agree, said Julio. What does your old man have to say about this? Doesn’t he have any tips for you on how to deal with a bully?

My Dad … he’s not home much since my Mom died, Malcolm said, looking down at the floor. I haven’t told him about it.

Why not? asked Julio, curious.

He’d say it was my fault for letting it happen, Malcolm said. He’d probably laugh at me.

Julio was not sure what to make of that. There was an uncomfortable pause, while Malcolm silently kicked himself for sounding like a weak baby.

Let’s pretend that you’re walking home from school, and I’m following you, said Julio, standing across the room from Malcolm. You hear me, and you know what’s coming, but you don’t want to run. You want to face me and make me stop! How do you make that happen?

I try to talk to you, make you see that you’re wrong? Malcolm said.

Yeah, these guys are probably not in a talking mood … what’s key here is confidence. If you act afraid, you’re dead. If you act like you’re winning, like you’re the boss, then it’s better, said Julio. Also, this helps, he added, holding out his right fist with the index and middle fingers extended.

What’s that for? asked Malcolm, fascinated.

You shove your fingers up his nose, as hard you can, said Julio. Believe me, nobody likes that. They both laughed.

Julio, Malcolm? called Lucinda from downstairs. It’s getting late. Malcolm should be getting home.

She’s right, it is getting late, said Julio.

Yeah, I guess it’s time to go home now, said Malcolm. The two descended rapidly down the spiral staircase, unhindered by the small triangular-shaped metal steps. Such metal staircases were very common in the colony, as they saved space while allowing people to move vertically within their homes. See you tomorrow? he asked.

Yeah, see you tomorrow, replied Julio. Come on over after school and I’ll show you the shed where my Dad and I work on some stuff.

Later that night, alone in his bed, Malcolm thought about what Julio had said. As he was falling asleep, he pictured over and over in his mind the bully and his two flunkies, what he should have said to them, what he should have done. He pictured himself charging straight towards the worst tormentor, catching him by surprise, stuffing his fingers up his nose. He snorted with laughter, lying in the dark, hiding his face in his pillow so his father would not hear. Julio had said that he had courage, that he had stood his ground. Malcolm felt better, more hopeful, than he had in a long time, although being too young to understand what empowered meant, he would have been hard pressed to explain why.

Chapter Two

THE NEXT DAY after school, Julio was waiting outside the Deborah Singer-Pires Elementary School for Malcolm, leaning against the side of the building, casually greeting his classmates as they walked past in groups of twos and threes. The girls especially seemed to like Julio, smiling and calling out his name, tossing their long hair and giggling to each other as they walked by.

Hey, said Malcolm, by way of greeting.

Hey, responded Julio. Want to come over? We can play video games. And I want to show you the shed, where my Dad and I build stuff.

Sure! exclaimed Malcolm. He was happy that his new friend had waited for him after school, and also relieved that at least for today, no one would bother him on his way home.

Have you seen any of those guys today? asked Julio.

No, not today, said Malcolm.

I saw one of them, but I gave him the evil eye and he walked away in the other direction. I don’t think they will bother you again.

Thanks again for that, said Malcolm.

Maybe when we get home, we should ask my Dad for some practice sessions, so you can brush up on your self-defense skills.

Self-defense skills? Like what? asked Malcolm.

Real boxing, you know, bobbing and weaving, one-two punches, said Julio.

OK, yeah, said Malcolm, thinking that any tips would be welcome.

At Julio’s home, Julio pushed aside the flowered curtain and unlocked the front door. He pointed to the side of the house, where there was a lopsided two-story structure leaning against the wall in the farthest corner of the platform, nearly hidden in the shadows next to the house.

That’s the shed I told you about, said Julio. Let’s go inside first and let my Mom know we are here, and then I can show you.

Lucinda Suarez was in the small dining room. She was standing on a small chair, holding a cloth in her hand and reaching toward the ceiling, trying to dab at something high up on the wall in the corner. When the boys walked in, she climbed down. Hello, Julio, and Malcolm, how nice to see you, she said with a warm smile.

Mama, what are you doing up there? asked Julio.

There’s a spider in the corner, and I just can’t reach it. Julio, here, you try, she said, handing him the cloth.

Taking the cloth from his mother, Julio climbed up on the chair and carefully swiped at the corner of the wall. He folded the cloth over and over, gently. There, he said. All done. He hopped down off the chair and held out the cloth to Malcolm. Can you take that outside and let it go? he asked.

Malcolm’s face turned white. He was deathly afraid of spiders, something he went to great pains to hide from everyone. Only his mother had known about his phobia. Horrified, he put both hands behind his back and involuntarily took a step backwards. He opened his mouth to say something, anything – but could not think of anything to say.

Lucinda looked at Malcolm’s white face, his hands clenched so tightly behind his back, and took the cloth from Julio herself. Here, she said, I can do that. She went into the kitchen, opened the window and shook the cloth outside. There! she exclaimed. All gone.

Julio, she said, I am going out to pick up some groceries for dinner. I’ll be back soon. You boys should get started on your homework, OK? she said.

OK, replied Julio dutifully.

What’s the matter, man, are you afraid of spiders? asked Julio bluntly, after his mother had left and they were alone.

Malcolm, utterly embarrassed, was not used to open, honest questions asked without pretense. He looked down at the floor.

We can deal with that, said Julio firmly but kindly. "For right now, though, we need to play a quick round of WarMongers before we go out to the shed."

Malcolm nodded gratefully, and the two boys went upstairs to play video games on their padlets. WarMongers was a particularly popular game with the children, violent, bloody and forbidden by half of the parents in the colony. For the other lucky half, though, it was a thrilling way to spend the afternoon, and made that much better with two players rather than one.

Cool, said Malcolm. Do your parents let you play every day?

Yeah, they let me play, but I’m not sure that they know how much I play, said Julio, laughing. And if they don’t ask, I’m not telling them.

Afterwards, the boys went back downstairs, looking for an afternoon snack. There is usually something in the kitchen to eat, said Julio. Let’s see what we’ve got.

On the kitchen counter, there was a tray of lemon snap cookies. In the cooler, there were little dishes of creamy cappuccino custard with whipped topping. Malcolm, whose home was silent, dark and empty most of the time, felt a wave of envy. His mother had kept a household like this, where there was always something to eat.

Take one of each, man, it’s ok, said Julio, helping himself to a custard and a handful of cookies. There are spoons in the drawer over there.

When they had finished eating, the boys went outside. This is the shed, announced Julio with a flourish, pulling out his padlet and using the ubiquitous Keyz app to unlock the door to the lean-to outside the house. There’s not supposed to be anybody but family in here, but my Mom won’t be back for a while.

He stood aside for Malcolm to enter. It was dark and musty inside, with a smell of machine oil, sawdust and turpentine. Julio turned on the zolar lamp that was sitting on his father’s work table, but the lamp had not been charged the day before and did not work. Zolar lamps were powered by zolar batteries, which worked much the same as the solar batteries used by their ancestors, only zolar batteries gained their power from the colony’s artificial light, rather than the sun.

Damn, said Julio. My Dad always charges the zolar lamps, but he’s not home. He flipped on the LampLight app on his padlet so they could see.

Not home? asked Malcolm, curious. In the colony, there was no place to go; everybody was always at home. Where is he?

He’s working, that’s all, said Julio. He goes away sometimes.

Goes away? Where does he go? asked Malcolm.

I don’t know, and they don’t like it if I ask, said Julio. And I’m not supposed to tell anybody, either, so please, keep it to yourself.

Of course, promised Malcolm.

This is our go-cart! said Julio, proudly pointing out a rectangular piece of wood on four large round black wheels. A large piece of wood was a precious commodity in the colony, something that was hard to find. This was old, but solid, a thick and sturdy single piece of plywood.

My Dad and I work on this on the weekends, Julio explained. Look, the axle is attached to the wheels, and the wood platform sits on top of it, like this. Julio demonstrated, moving the go-cart back and forth. All it needs is four sides.

Malcolm was puzzled. He had thought that a go-cart would be big enough for a person to sit in, but this was much larger. You know, it looks more like a wagon than a go-cart, doesn’t it? I mean, if you put the four sides on and all.

Julio considered this. Yeah, I guess it could be used for either. But it’s a cart, and it goes, so it’s a go-cart, he explained. The problem is, we can’t get nails. My Dad said he’d try to find some when he gets back.

Malcolm eyed the go-cart thoughtfully. You don’t have any glue? he asked, looking at the multitude of shelves lining the walls of the shed right up to the ceiling, loaded with numerous boxes and baskets. Like many structures in the colony, this one had little floor space, measuring about 5’ X 7’, but had a very high ceiling, going up about 15 feet.

No, we don’t have any, said Julio, and besides, it wouldn’t be strong enough, not for what my Dad wants to carry.

What’s your Dad want to use it for? asked Malcolm. He rolled the cart back and forth, watching how the wheels moved. Is he going to put a motor on it, too?

We should go back inside now, before my Mom gets home, said Julio uneasily. He had not expected so many questions from his interesting new friend, who was certainly curious about things. Julio kept his eyes carefully on the go-cart as he put it back against the wall.

They left the shed, which Julio made sure to lock behind them, and returned to the kitchen. Julio reached for two more cookies, handing one to Malcolm.

Now, about those spiders, said Julio, and Malcolm’s stomach flipped over, lodging itself somewhere in his throat.

You’re afraid of spiders, Malcolm? he asked. Some people are.

Bluntly asked, it was a simple yes-or-no question, but the straight-forward honesty of it took his breath away. Julio was not jeering or laughing at him; he seemed genuinely to want to know.

I’ll tell you what, Julio said. You wait for me right here. I’ll be right back.

Malcolm stood in the tiny kitchen, shifting uneasily back and forth from one foot to the other, waiting for Julio to return. Several minutes went by, while Malcolm imagined one scenario after another, none of them good. Finally, Julio returned.

I can help you, man, but you gotta trust me, said Julio. Here. Sit down and push up your sleeve.

Malcolm eyed Julio suspiciously, the way he was holding one hand behind his back, and reluctantly sat down at the table.

You need to get over this fear. You know that, right? You can’t be backing away every time you see a little spider. I’m doing this to help you, Julio reassured him.

Bringing his hand out from behind his back, Julio produced a small pottery jar with a cork in the top. Carefully removing the cork, he tipped the jar to the side, and both boys watched as a single rather large black spider tiptoed out of the jar, cautiously at first, then with more confidence.

No way, Julio! exclaimed Malcolm, jumping