The Unknowns

By Abby Summers

Taken from the only life theyve ever known, to be placed where nothing should exist, Alex and five other teenagers struggle to understand this odd change in their lives after they awaken in a forest and travel together to Ataxia. Things seem to be real, but those things are unheard of by the six who seem to have been chosen for a reason.
After Alex is taken to be trained as an Ataxian Traitor and is betrayed by those around her, she still hasnt found the reason why she is so important in the foreshadow of Ataxia and Malums war. No one is trustworthy. No longer can she risk anything more. Alex places her trust in no ones hands and she takes it upon herself to decide right from wrong in this place.
When the reason why she and the others were brought to Ataxia is revealed to her, Alex realizes the danger in being who she is, and it is far greater than she had imagined. The months of training and readying for war couldnt have prepared Alex for the things she knows, now. Why she was sent here, why shes needed, and why the Unknowns are such a danger to others, all begins to seem like a game they have all been trying to play for their whole time spent in Ataxia when they discover that the war theyve attempted to prevent has already begun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499028072

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Abby Summers.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4990-2808-9

                eBook            978-1-4990-2807-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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: 06/05/2014

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris LLC

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

634055

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Part II Ataxia

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Fourty

Chapter Fourty-One

Chapter Fourty-Two

For Andrew, for always believing in me.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

T HANKS TO THE people of Xlibris for making my dream become a reality: you guys are really wonderful. Thanks also to Harmony for always being my best friend no matter what and for unknowingly giving me ideas, and thanks Bekah for supporting me all the way, I love you both. Thanks to my mom Crystal, for especially supporting me and helping me make the correct decisions, without you I’d be lost, I love you! Thanks Jess, I don’t know what you did but I’m glad you did it, love ya! Lastly, I thank God for being with me, always. You’re an awesome God.

PROLOGUE

D EFINE, ‘CONFUSION.’

I begin to refuse, but remember the last words I heard from them, telling me to do what she says. Telling me that it’s necessary. And I know that it is, even though I’ve only been filled in on everything of my past in the past day or more.

The confusion is an inhumane thing to put someone through, I answer.

I’ve already defined other words, such as unfair, and aberration. I’m hoping that this process will be made easier if they realize that it is wrong. Wrong to make a human being go through this kind of torture. No sense in giving myself false hope, though. This is the last word I’ll have to define.

Go on, she tells me, so I do.

It sounds strange, and probably scary at times. And it can cause the mind to go places, do and think things that you would never think possible of yourself… But that’s not what this is about, is-

One moment, she says, writing something down with her left hand onto a piece of paper. Okay. Continue.

"I think The Confusion is a trap. A mind trap. And when it begins to leak in, slowly but surely, until it drains your mind of any sane thoughts you once had, it can drive a person to insanity. It will drive me to insanity. Can you at least tell me what this’ll do to-"

Who? she asks.

Never mind.

Continue, she says with a wave of her hand.

Confusion is also dangerous. I’ve told myself to stay away from it, but I’ve recently realized that you just can’t. If it’s there, it’s there, and most likely, it’s there to stay and haunt you for the longest.

She sucks in a deep breath, then when I’ve begun to think she isn’t going to breathe again, she lets a long breath out, slowly. Too slow, as if holding her breath for a minute wasn’t a challenge at all. She reads through her neatly written notes, then looks up at me, and with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, she asks the second of the two questions she told me she would ask.

Last question. You are most afraid of out of the following: The stages, pain, loss, or the actual feeling of confusion?

I laugh a short, sardonic laugh, because this is ridiculous, especially when she knows the answers to all these questions.

I answer in a more serious tone, What loss? because I don’t understand what I’ve lostt that I should fear.

The woman seems frightened in a very unnoticeable way, but I notice. But I won’t tell her to never mind, because what loss is she talking about? Memory? Or just loss?

It’s started, she tells the large man in the corner. I thought you said I’d have enough time.

Just keep going, he tells her.

I go ahead and answer her previous question, The stages, because I think that is what I said last time.

And what are the stages? she asks.

Why is she asking me all of this? Hasn’t she already? She knows all of these answers, it isn’t the first time she’s asked. Wait, I remember. This time, they’re listening. She wants them to hear my answers before they’re all put through the exact same thing. Well, only one of them. The rest will get it fairly easy, as far as I know.

Stage one: attempting to escape it, just before it is at it’s full, I tell her.

Next?

The next, I say, is the fear that you’ve failed to escape it, and it’s coming to engulf you into a deep, dark abyss from which you can barely be saved of, and in my case, I probably won’t be.

One moment, she says again as she writes something down.

You stupid, stupid girl, I tell myself in my head. I shouldn’t have said that. Now, she has more of my head to control, sort of.

Lastly, I continue without permission, so maybe she’ll forget what I just said, is the moment that I’m not dreading as badly as you think. The moment that will probably ruin everything that I’ve tried so hard to keep hold of, but will never be the same. That moment, when confusion takes over And I’ll be recognized as an… As the…

Maybe I am dreading it as badly as she thinks. But I can’t let her know that.

She smiles, sitting on the edge of her seat as if I’ve put on a show for her audience and this is her way of congratulating me for entertaining them all. She clasps her hands together, then rises from her chair to approach me.

The what? she asks.

I have to answer. I won’t get away with not answering. She’ll make me answer. But I don’t want to answer… Maybe I won’t . . . No. I have to.

The unknown.

That was my last answer. I’ll tell her nothing more.

Any last words? Last chance, you know.

I have words, alright. None of which I would like for her to be the one to hear. I’d say them now, while he hears me, but it would only result in another lump on my head. I know not to say anything more than what I have already, she definitely made that clear to me, and I have the evidence to prove it, not that it will matter in a few minutes.

Any last words at all? Not that you’ll remember. Think hard.

I won’t think hard. My mind is made up. I’ll get through this.

I’ll get through what?

No.

I’m confused. No, I can’t be. I can fight it, it’s probably happened, before.

Very well, she says, and I know now, that it will start soon.

Too soon.

CHAPTER ONE

Y OU KNOW WHAT? Fine! I don’t care if you kill yourself tonight or tomorrow, but I’m not stickin’ around to watch!

That was a little harsh, I’ve thought to myself after I’ve cooled down and have finally reached the creek bed where I took my first drink of clean water three years ago. Lindy won’t stay sober, and it’s driving me towards insanity. I’ve stayed this long to try and help her straighten out her life, but I’ve had enough. She’s not even making an effort. I have to leave.

After thinking it through, I begin my walk to the lake, glancing up at the green trees, dancing in the wind to their song they play me this time every year. I’ll hunt plenty of rabbits these evening so I can leave in the morning, knowing Lindy can survive for a few days without my help, if she tries. When she realizes I’m not coming back to do everything for her, maybe she’ll get her life straightened out and get rid of her problem that she’s burdened me with.

After I’m ready to go, I’ll take off through the woods, using them as my permanent hiding place, instead of only my place of survival. My safe place. I could live out here just fine, and I will.

Several hours later, after I’ve killed a few rabbits and a squirrel, the sky tells me to head home. By the time I get back to my trail it will be too dark to get anywhere with my eyes. I’ll have to be on a trail I’ve traveled often. The moon is behind the clouds tonight. It’s so dark, you’d doubt there even was a moon if you didn’t know any better.

First thing when I walk through the door of my home, Lindy comes at me with empty, glass bottles in both hands.

Alex, what’d you do? What’d you do with it?

She throws a bottle to the wall and shatters a mirror.

"Listen, Lindy. Its all gone. You did it, not me."

What’re you just standin’ there for, then? Go get some more! she answers too loudly.

When I shake my head at her, refusing to get her more, she swings an empty bottle at my head that I just barely duck in time. I push the drunk woman out of my way and head to my bedroom.

Go get your own alcoholic beverages, I’m done breakin’ the law for you, I yell over my shoulder.

For a few minutes, I listen to her try to break into my locked bedroom door from the closet, where I actually am. Where I always go at times like these until she finally gives up and goes to town, herself.

When I’m sure that she’s left, I come out of the small closet where I can still fit inside with ease, and walk outside to my window. I crawl inside and decide to leave in the night after Lindy has come home. My bedroom door is literally, bolted shut from the inside. I found a screwdriver and bolt lock, once… Okay, I stole a screwdriver and bolt lock, along with a few other items, and I put it on my door so my bedroom can only be entered through my window that stays open.

I feel like I am being watched. I hear leaves on the ground, shuffling across the ground without the help of any wind. A smell, unlike any that I’ve ever smelled before enters my nose, and my eyes feel heavy. The smell is addicting, unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. I have to close my eyes. Just for a minute . . .

What? What’s this about? I just shut my eyes for a split second and I wake up in. In what? I see nothing really, because it’s so dark.

I roll over and to my surprise, find myself falling, but it’s not fake. I really am falling. I make a hard landing onto the hard ground. I’m outside, I know for sure, I see the clouds float away from the stars, and there’s the full moon. I lay flat on my back, wincing from the pain shooting through my body. I realize I’ve fallen out of a tree.

Last I remember, I stormed outside to my woods after having a fight with my drunken mother, planning to leave before dawn. She’s not my real mother, she and her husband adopted me when I was fourteen. Robby and Lindy both, were drunk more than most of the time. That’s how Robby got himself killed; he was drunk and felt the need to play in the road with moving vehicles in the middle of the night. Actually, he and Lindy were both drunk, and they got in a stupid argument over something ignorant.

In such a drunken state of mind, Robby didn’t realize that our house was close to town, meaning there was a road outside the door. He ran outside while threatening to never come back. That, he didn’t. Come back, I mean. They ran right over him.

Kind of funny though; he was run over by a truck that carried liquor. I always thought the drinking would kill him, just not like that.

My foster parents never liked me, let alone love me, and I never particularly liked them, either. Robby about beat me to death twice, and after he died last year, Lindy started using me as her own personal punching bag, but that, I can deal with. Being drunk all the time is a bit different.

Go get me a drink, I need a drink, that’s all she ever says, and she doesn’t mean a glass of water.

Anyway, the last thing I remember is going to the woods, but I went back, didn’t I? Yes, I went back, and I refused to go to the store to get Lindy some more alcohol. She was already drunk anyway, she’s never sober.

One more year. I was going to give her another year to get straightened out. That’s all, then I’d be eighteen and out of here. Or there. Where am I right now? A dream, maybe?

I refused to go town and get Lindy more alcohol, I went to my room, I lied down on my pitiful excuse of a bed and I think I fell asleep… But something doesn’t seem right about that. More time seems to have passed, since my memory of the day is foggy. Anyway, I woke up outside, falling out of a tree. Am I in my own yard?

When I’ve gathered the strength to sit up, I whisper into the darkness, Where am I?

No reply.

After my eyes have adjusted well to the darkness, I stand up and start walking. Maybe I walked to the woods behind our house in my sleep. I often sneak out at night to the woods anyway. It’s my safe place. The place I can go whenever I feel the need to get out of the world. The place I go to survive.

Lindy couldn’t make it without me. I hunt every day and bring home the meat. Rabbit, squirrel, the occasional deer if it’s young enough for me to be able to kill with the throw of my knives. I have no firearms, only knives. I got them from Robby after he died. He had a collection full and I have no idea why. Probably some stupid trade he made with a guy.

I know I’m not in my woods, when I rub across a tree made of thorns that scratch my arm, making blood drip from my left hand. My woods have no such a thing. I’ve wandered around in my woods for three years, I know them well enough to know that I’m not in them right now.

Lindy finally must have lost it completely and hauled me off somewhere. No, she couldn’t have become sober enough to find that my bedroom had a window in it, and she’s not strong enough to break down a door or drag me off anywhere. She can’t drive the small truck of ours, and even if she could, she still couldn’t because it has no battery. She also isn’t smart enough to find somebody that would be willing to break down the door for her and drive me somewhere.

I’m not scared, oddly enough. I’ve spent most of my nights in the dark woods, surely these are no different, I couldn’t be too far from home, anyway.

I’m not scared, even when I hear a loud thump to my right, behind me. I walk toward the groaning noise I hear, and see in the moonlight, a person. From the sound of it, a boy.

Psssst! I try to catch his attention.

He sits up with a groan and asks, What the heck?

He’s fallen out of a tree, and doesn’t know where he is, the same as me.

I step closer to him and say, I don’t know where we are, I woke up and fell, same as you. You remember how you got here?

He takes a moment to reply. In that moment, I see him look up at me and I can see his face well now, in the moonlight. He is kind of stocky. Looks to be around my age. Even though it’s dark outside, I can see his short, black hair. He reminds me of someone…

He finally replies, I went to bed. Woke up after I… I fell out of a tree?

He looks up as if looking for the tree he fell out of.

I’m Alex, who are you? I ask.

I left out the last name on purpose. I hate admitting that I’m a Chesier, even to myself.

He replies, Aaron. Aaron Gaze.

Okay, well he seems friendly enough. I’ll let him follow me if he wants.

It’s just lovely to meet you, I tell him sarcastically.

Yeah, you too, he answers.

I’m not in the slightest bit, tired, so I say for us to get a move on. Aaron stands up and asks why we’re moving in the dark and I tell him that I want to know where we are as soon as possible. He doesn’t object, he follows along beside me, and I think he’s staring at me. When I look over at him, he doesn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t looking at me, he tells me that I look like somebody he knows.

We stop when another thud behind where we just came from catches our attention. I turn back and pass the tree that Aaron came from, and find a girl. Short, light brown hair. Probably my height and age, maybe a bit older. She doesn’t look familiar at all.

She startles me, by suddenly opening her eyes, peering into my own eyes. Her eyes are full of hatred and disgust by what she sees. The first thought that enters my mind is, "Am I that ugly?" and I hope I didn’t say it out loud.

Holy- Aaron starts, because I think she might have scared him a bit more than me.

She won’t answer when Aaron asks for her name. Pretty soon, I decide that I don’t care that much and I walk away from her and past Aaron, not caring who follows me.

You just gonna leave her there?

Yes, I tell Aaron, not bothering to turn around when I say it. Any more questions?

I hear feet behind me, and can tell without even looking that the girl has got up and decided to follow us. Whether or not Aaron helped her up, I don’t know. But I also don’t care. I care about finding out why I’m here.

I don’t feel much like talking. I really don’t ever feel like talking. That’s one thing that was encouraged by being a Chesier. I have no one to talk to. I’ve never attended school. How we even live, I don’t know. We have no electricity and no water lines. I get our water from a creek bed and we have an outhouse. Robby had a job once, but was soon after, fired.

I don’t even know why the Chesier’s adopted me. They certainly have never taken care of me. It’s possible that they wanted someone to take care of them, knowing they couldn’t take care of themselves. I’ve never been part of a real family. My real parents didn’t want me, so instead, when they had me, they gave me up. I grew up in a revolting, disgusting orphanage that had a stench worse than our outhouse that smells of liquor scented vomit.

A few minutes pass, and in a split second after touching my hand to something, I am shocked by the immediate sharp pain I feel in my right hand, and I realize that the pain came after my hand skimmed over a largely leafed plant. Something like fiberglass pokes my hand, feeling like a poison.

I’m usually pretty pain tolerant, but this is almost unbearable. I’m screaming now, when the girl takes a pocket knife and grabs my wrist, turning my hand palm up, then scrapes the knife blade across my hand. It takes a while, and she even accidentally slices my hand open in a couple of spots, but eventually, the pain leaves my hand. Whatever stuck to my skin was in fact, poison. My hand twitches from the writhing pain the leaf brought me.

I forgot about my knives that I carry with me everywhere I go. I carry them in my boots.

We move along, taking what seems to have formed a road of a sort. When we walk on the road, Aaron tells me about his life. He say that he’s seventeen, same as me, and lives with his older brother. His brother took him in after their parents died in a car wreck when he was too young to remember well. Aaron’s brother, Alan, has taken about as much care of Aaron as Lindy does me.

My brother gets into a lot of trouble that I end up having to bail him out of, he says before asking about my life.

I give him my short versioned life story, leaving about seventy percent of my life out of it, but he doesn’t know that.

After a good two hours, we hear a loud thump to our left, just in front of us. We quickly move ahead, to the next fallen person.

CHAPTER TWO

T HIS ONE STILL appears to be asleep. That or unconscious. It’s a wonder the fall from the tree didn’t knock Aaron or myself out cold, seeing that we fell from higher trees than this boy has.

We’ve all fallen out of a similar looking branch, I tell Aaron, as I examine the tree.

The limbs we all have fallen off of has been narrow and flat. An odd shape for a tree.

This is very weird, Aaron says as he moves the boy’s head around like a doll with a broken neck.

Yeah, I’ll say. I don’t normally see people rolling unconscious people’s heads around, I tell him.

I’m not one to joke around, but I’m in a fairly good mood. I’ve made a. Not really a friend, – which I don’t think I’ve ever done, but an acquaintance. I’ve spoken more in the last two hours to a boy I’ve never met, than I have in the past three years, living with the Chesier’s. And best of all, I’m not in that pitiful excuse of a house with a drunken woman.

I still have a bruise on my cheekbone that Aaron pointed out to me. The moon is that bright. We can see pretty well.

Aaron laughs at my joke, possibly not realizing that it’s sarcasm, and says, leaving the boy’s head alone, No, I mean it’s weird that four people so far, have fallen out of nearly identical trees, and we’re all about the same age. He looks to be seventeen or so. Not much older than us.

I agree. Though, I’m guessing this boy is eighteen, or barely nineteen, but not seventeen. He looks to be pretty tall. He’s much taller than me. His blonde hair falls over his forehead, partially covering a small scar close to where his hair begins.

The boy doesn’t wake on his own after five minutes, so I kick the boy in the leg and yell in his face, Wake up!

Aaron is taken by surprise at my yelling at an unconscious boy.

Aren’t you the friendly one? he asks in a joking tone.

I shrug my shoulders at Aaron’s attempt of making me laugh, but I don’t laugh. I’m immune to laughter. Have been forever.

The boy wakes up and lets out a large gasp.

Don’t go on yourself, dude, Aaron tells him.

Too late, says the boy.

I slide a step away with crossed arms and I see a small smile form on the girl’s face.

The boy laughs and says, Hey, can’t take a joke?

No, not really.

Aaron helps him up and asks for his name, introducing us as well, saying that we don’t know the girl’s name because she hasn’t spoken.

Colton Dane. Pleased to meet you, he replies, directing the pleased to meet you to me.

I’m not one to get mad easily, but I’m also not one to take rude sarcasm.

Wish I could say the same, I tell him.

Colton puts a hand over his chest and says, Ouch.

I don’t waste any time. Before we start walking I ask Colton what his last memory is. It’s similar to mine and Aaron’s. He tells us that he went to bed and woke up to a crazy girl screaming in his face. That being said, I walk the opposite direction, back down the road where we were heading down.

We walk for thirty minutes maybe, and Aaron says we may should stop and get some rest. I realize now, that I may be the only one of us that is comfortable with walking for miles at a time in woods, nonstop.

Colton says, Besides, what are the odds of finding another person tonight?

I agree to a break, and we all sit at the trunk of a big oak tree. If it was light, I could scale this tree to the top and see what lies ahead. I make a mental note to self to make that the first thing I do when morning light comes.

For ten minutes or so, I listen to Aaron and Colton’s conversation. They talk about their past, making occasional jokes.

Colton is nineteen, as I thought. He has a bad life as well. Lives with his step-father, who hates him entirely.

So, we all three come from bad situations that we have no problem with leaving. My mind wanders to a deep trance, and I think about why I’m okay with being here, having no idea where I am.

Hey, you two, I say, "do either of you feel… Uncomfortable, being here?"

We all three exchange confused looks as they both shake their heads to my question.

My arm and hand feels as if they should fall off, but I feel fine being here. At first, I thought it was because I’m used to being in the woods. But we all feel this way. Like we’re meant to be here. Most of us, anyway. Who knows about the girl, though?

Aaron and Colton take their attention back off of me, and return to their own La-La-Lands and I resume my silent thinking, the same as the girl that sits fairly close to me. I like it when no one includes me in their conversations. I don’t have