Hiding in the Shadows

By Mackenzie Judge

This book follows the journey of Skylar, a young girl trying to survive and keep what is left of her family safe in a government-controlled society. Because of the war there are strict rules in place; boys are forced into battle while many girls are taken to the Birthhouse or are used as human tests for innovative weapons. Her journey starts when she escapes her home city with her two siblings and takes refuge at her Aunt’s. However, when a fleet of soldiers shows up to take her brother to the Ranks she must grab her sister and run. The pair survives traveling from city to city looking for somewhere they might be safe. When Skylar hears of a man who helps to free teens from some of the horrible government facilities and hides them, she decides to seek him out. Can Skylar find a permanent home for her and her sister while evading the watchful government eye? Will the growing rebellion finally uncover some of the secrets being hidden from the people? Does Skylar have more of a connection with the tyrant president than she originally thought?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781984578501

Book preview

Hiding in the Shadows

Mackenzie Judge

Copyright © 2020 by Mackenzie Judge.

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 Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 05/07/2020

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Contents

Prelog

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

This book is dedicated to my family. Thank you for

supporting me in all of my crazy endeavors. To my

husband, thank you for loving me unconditionally.

To my sister, thank you for being my best friend.

Prelog

I can’t even remember a time before the war. I was only three years old when the first troops were sent and on my fourth birthday the first bomb hit our city, but that all feels like lifetimes ago. The war became our lives; peace was a thing of stories, something only found in children’s fairytales. My life became the constant running, surviving, and protecting my sister it is today.

I haven’t really seen my family in years, my brother was sent out as soon as he turned 14. They took him just like they took my father. My father is probably dead but my brother was stronger. He had fire in his eyes, a fire of pure hatred. I haven’t heard from him in months, not that he would have any way to reach me if he wanted to. The last hologram record I saw stated he would be transferred to the front lines. I know he is still alive though, I can feel him, his will to survive. We’ve always had a connection like this, I can feel the fight in him, and he can feel mine. It makes us stronger. Then there is my mother. I haven’t seen her since the day they invaded Nuru.

Drone soldiers had begun to break down the walls on the north side of the city. The four of us ran, hastily packing our possessions and fleeing into the forest. We had to make it out to the rural country where we would be safe. My uncle was to meet us at the end of the forest, take my sister, brother and me out.

Running through the darkness we could hear drones behind us. The metallic clicking of metal on metal, computers engineering tactics and adapting to every obstacle with perfect precision. The gas was a surprise to all of us; it stung my skin like a swarm of angry wasps. It floated a few feet above the ground, surrounding us like an ocean wave enveloping its prey. The poison within it was too much for my mother; she collapsed and started to shake violently before becoming suddenly still. Too still. Red sores oozed in the soft skin of her face making it hard to identify her. Her normally graceful and elegant body looked so out of place in the dirt. I quickly moved to drag my infant sister from her lifeless body as my brother grabbed the supplies she had been carrying. Rosie weighed heavy in my arms and I fought against the fuzziness filling my head as if the fog had managed to embed itself within my brain. The drones turned back after that, assuming the gas had taken care of any who tried to run. Anyone like us.

The three of us continued going west, we needed to make it to the edge of the forest before the city fell and we were trapped inside. Tiar tried to act brave and lead us but I could feel how much he was crumbling inside. Sometimes even the strongest people wish someone could come and hug them tight, take the weight off their shoulders and lead for a while. But these are the strongest people because they do not have that option. For two days we went, stopping and sleeping in the daylight, running in the darkness. My brother and I were always on watch. We swapped between carrying Rosie and the awkward pack of provisions. There was an endless barrier of silence between us; the only sound was the constant whimper from Rosie who refused to settle without my mother’s cooing. My own body ached to cry but no tears would come. So I retreated into my mind, creating thick walls to shield me from the emotional pain. Maybe one day when I am ready I will be able to sort through the sorrow, but grieving is a luxury not available to those who need to survive.

When we finally made the edge of the city we waited, stayed there until dusk, looking for our uncle. That night a shadow emerged from the woods across the forest. The silhouette noticed us and quickly motioned for us to come. We had been told our uncle would collect us and whoever this was had the obvious structure of a woman. But we had to get out, regardless of who was on the other side. We would have to take the chance that this stranger might help us. The drones had increased the forest sweeps in our area and our luck would only last so long. We bolted across, my brother physically dragging my sister through the water as we attempted to swim. Had we stayed any longer the drone sweep that started a few seconds later would have incinerated us. I turned to look back just before reaching the river to see an unfortunate animal reduced to nothing but dust in the sweeping ray.

We jumped into the freezing water, numbness consuming our bodies instantaneously. Struggling to get across, holding my sister’s hand while my brother did the same; we fought against the whipping current. The river posed its own threat, forcing water in our eyes and mouths. We flailed in the current attempting to swim with any level of efficiency. Numbness made my arms feel like weights that took enormous amounts of efforts to move through the water. As we neared the other side a fragile hand griped my arm and hoisted me out. I lied there coughing and sputtering as the hands swiftly pulled out my sister and brother. We all sat on the bank, shivering uncontrollably against the cold night air. The gritty dirt left brown patches on our limbs and clothing any time we came into contact. I inhaled the musk of it with my head squashed half into the ground, trying to catch my breath.

We have to go quickly, said the soft voice. She grabbed our freezing hands and pulled us into the tree cover. I’ve been sent by your aunt to collect you, her words were rushed and filled with fear. She reached out to take Rosie from the arms of my brother but he drew back a few inches, a silent decline of the offer. I pulled the heavy pack off his shoulders so he wouldn’t be so weighed down. The wet material dragged my shoulders down with the extra weight of water, no wonder Tiar had almost drowned.

What about our uncle? Tiar said in that ‘don’t-underestimate-me’ voice he was so good at.

He was sent out to the frontlines a few days ago, her explanation wasn’t satisfying but neither my brother nor I pressed further. There was no other option and we knew it, but there was a kindness in her face that made me want to believe she was truly here to help us. We followed her through forests and fields, always suspicious, never letting ourselves fully trust her.

At last we came to the city limits of Read. The city was mostly prairie grass and open green space making it easy to sneak around without being seen. Near the southern limit of the city a small rundown farm came into view. Our guide led directly to it, knocking on the splintering wood door. Our aunt hurriedly swept us inside, poking her head out to check if anyone happened to be watching outside. I recognized her from old pictures that used to hang around the wall of our living room. She had the same wild brown curls as our mom; clearly the two sisters would have looked very similar when they were young. She quickly pulled a small bag from her pocket and handed it to the woman. She nodded slightly to our aunt before scurrying back down the road. Inside my aunt turned to us as if inspecting any injuries before pulling the 3 of us into her arms.

Thank God you all made it, Nuru fell just days ago and had you still been inside the city limits . . . she stopped; keeping herself from saying the words we all fear but knew were reality.

Well you’re here now so why think of what could have happened. She forced a fake smile to her lips, trying to reassure us. She turned her head clearly unable to hold the charade long before water began glazing her eyes. We had lost a mother and for this woman she had just lost her sister. We were all broken inside, like a puzzle missing pieces. If you stepped back you could see the picture of who we were but when you got close there were holes, details missing that complete a person.

I stayed in that old red brick house from the time I was 7 until I turned 10. The four of us lived there together, hidden, lying low from the authorities. We each understood that if we were found Tiar would be sent out to the ranks when he turned 14. I would be forced to work in an ammunition factory or as a delivery scout and finally sent out when I turned 17, to be placed in the ranks with the men. My sister would be far less lucky; she was so small, chances were she would be taken off to the chamber. She would be put in one of the weapon testing facilities in the south and used as a trial of the survivability for newly generated weapons. Firearms were becoming more lethal and barbaric everyday. They had to, the drones kept adapting to our technology, no matter how advanced.

* * *

Grab the hammer from the shed my aunt called after me through the shabby screen door. The heavy doors of the shed refused to budge, the hinges firmly rusted in place.

Fine don’t let me in, I muttered under my breath, circling the old building looking for another entrance. A small window on the back wall fitted my cause nicely. I examined the rotting frame and deciding to kick it in. The wood screamed as it cracked, the window smashing inward, leaving me just enough room to crawl through. Avoiding glass shards I wiggled my body inside and landed with a thump.

A pungent odor stung my nose and dust filled my lungs. Hammer, I reminded myself. I froze, my eyes falling on a strange object sitting in the corner. A curved wooden rod with a string tied to each end forming a ‘D’ shape. I slowly picked it up feeling the weight in my small hand while my fingers ran over the markings engraved into the side. Carrying it with me, I ran back inside forgetting the hammer completely.

My aunt looked startled at my excitement with the old wooden bow but sat down to explain the foreign object to me regardless. It had been my grandfathers; an old-fashion weapon but he had used it only like a toy. The hand carved wood had become brittle and the bowstring weak but I loved it all the same. I searched for hours finding the odd looking feathered arrows, more of them being broken than whole.

For the next few months I was consumed with learning to shoot; the rabbits, squirrels and birds made interesting targets. I would go out until my fingers were worn to the bone from rubbing them along the rough string. There was nothing else to do, we helped my aunt garden and with housework but there was always so much time left in the day. I practiced until I could shoot and at least hit my target every time, no matter how much wind, or how off balance my arrows were. My father’s voice played through my head, "Don’t let your flaws make you weak, use them to make you stronger," and that I did. A year later I could hit any target I chose perfectly –because I had learned to take into account the flaws– the flaws that made me stronger.

Evenings were a calm time in the rustic house, gathered together like a family would. Had someone been there to see they might not have guessed the brokenness of this ‘family’ and the scars underneath. To me it felt like a Frankenstein of parts hastily stitched together, giving the resemblance of life but under closer inspection simply a mismatch of parts. Pieces missing; my uncle, my mom, my dad; roles that had makeshift solutions for us now. No one acknowledged it; they pretended to be happy instead. Perhaps that was easier for them, to forget, but I could not forget.

Every night I walked into the kitchen with a squirrel or rabbit hanging from my belt, ready to be skinned and roasted. My brother sat at the table mending my arrows and carving more from the few trees in the area that shed wood light enough. I sat beside him, telling him all about my hunting trips and he would think up new more effective snares and traps. He had always had a knack for animal instincts. Somehow he could always tell what they would do; he could feel it somehow.

It was during one of those evenings, when we would talk late into the night, they came. Tiar had been staying out of the woods lately because his 14th birthday was coming up and had he been spotted by the wrong person-

A pounding came at our door and my aunt darted down the old wooden stairs. She grabbed us and dragged us both towards the wine cellar before answering the door. We crawled in on our hands and knees going as fast as we dare, as to not knock things over giving us away. We sat there in the cold darkness trying to hear. The few parts we could make out didn’t sound good.

I will ask you one more time, where is the boy! the solider was probably shaking her; you could hear it in the way her voice shook and wavered.

I tell you, there is no boy here, she was crying and they threatened to send her out to the chamber. The place they tested new and deadly weapons on people, the very place Rosie would be sent.

The captain ordered three of his men to search the house while the other two took my aunt. I haven’t seen her since that night.

My brother and I sat there holding our breath hoping they wouldn’t find us. Thumping down the stairs just above our heads was a soldier and we could hear Rosie crying hysterically.

Hey capt’n look what I found.

No, I breathed. There was absolutely no way they were getting out with my little sister, not if I could do something about it.

Rosie, said Tiar. We looked at each other confirming what we both knew had to be done. I grabbed my bow, which I had been holding when the soldiers arrived and we were whisked into the cellar.

Slowly we crawled back toward the door, I loaded my bow as Tiar opened the floorboard just a crack. A pair of heavy black leather boots walked past us. I needed to get to my arrows, I only had the one, but that would be enough to cause a distraction. Listening to the rhythm of the cautious steps approaching us, I timed how long until I could fire. He paused probably seeing the door slightly ajar. I used this moment to fire, striking him in the throat. His hands flew to his neck, gripping at the feathered adversary.

We ran to the kitchen and I grabbed my quiver as Tiar raced to the drawers and began pulling out knives. Barely audible was the sickening sound of the captain choking on his own blood. The other soldiers would find us within seconds now that they knew we were here. We had to strike now.

I notched another arrow on my string and rolled out of the kitchen releasing the cord as I stood up. The soldier bent over, the shaft sunken deep into his gut. A glimmer of metal flew past me through the air. The knife struck a soldier in the back, right between his shoulder blades and disappear all the way to the hilt. So that’s what Tiar’s been doing all day.

I froze seeing the last soldier standing there, a weapon nicknamed a zipper poised in his hand and pointed straight at Rosie’s head. There was no way a knife or arrow could even begin to compare with a zipper, no matter how accurate. Zippers were sick contraptions; they would rip apart your molecules starting from the inside, thus the name. There was a slight clink as we set down our weapons.

Let her go, I’ll go with you instead, just don’t hurt her. Tiar was bargaining, trying to take Rosie’s place. The soldier stood there a moment. He didn’t care about the rest of the men; there was no avenging force in his eyes, only tiredness. I could feel how done he was with the situation, fully spent and uncaring about the conclusion as long as he got what he came for. If he had wanted he could have taken all three of us with backup but it was not hard to see that both my brother and I were fighters. We would have been such a handful to take especially when my sister and I hadn’t been initially sent for. Tiar would have been sent to the ranks, Rosie to the chamber and me to the Birthhouse for causing so much trouble.

The soldier dropped Rosie’s arm causing her to fall to the ground and she curled in a small ball emitting soft whimpers. He motioned for Tiar to go over to the door; slowly he obeyed but at the doorway he turned and locked his eyes on mine.

Skylar, you can’t let anything happen to Rosie. Protect her, you understand. His voice was bold, undisputable.

I will, I spoke, barely louder than a whisper in the silence of our violated house. Satisfied he walked out, the soldier following close behind. He would be shipped off in the morning, sent off to the lines and placed in the ranks, another pawn. He was nothing more than a statistic to them. Screw them, I thought, screw them all.

I took my sister’s hand and brought her into the untouched living room. The normality of the splintering wood rocking chair and beige curtains was jarring in comparison to the adrenaline flowing in our veins. I sat her down and walked to where the dead captain lay, eyes open, fingers covered in blood and clenched around the wound. Did I do that? I pulled the arrow from his throat and took his gun. It was a typhoon 3.4 but we called them flyers. They stopped all nerve signals like an EMP for your brain; the victim was left unable to move and would die within a few minutes from a lack of oxygen and blood flow.

I surveyed the rest of the house, Rosie standing completely silent by my side, for supplies. I packed up everything useful; a few clothes, a jar of dried fruit, my hunting bag, grabbed my sister’s hand again and left. It pained me to think about dust settling in layers around a now empty house. My aunt had kept it so proper; taking pride in a polished home nobody was allowed to visit. No one would know about the lives that had been lived here. But perhaps it was best everyone forgot about us, it is much easier to hide if people aren’t looking for you.

I didn’t know where I was supposed to go but I knew we had to get away. I didn’t trust that soldier, he would probably send out a small squad the minute he returned to the station. I did the only thing I could do, run.

One

We go into the forest in the direction of the nearest city to the west, heading farther and farther from the war. Each morning I hunt with my bow, bringing in our food for the day. I have to work fast, skinning and cooking so we can eat while we walk. At dusk we find small nooks to sleep in, a cave here and there, in the cover of the trees or huddled next to small rock faces to block the wind. In the summer we have no need for fires at night but I dread the days of autumn when we will have to brave the night air, fires are too dangerous at twilight, the smoke could easily give us away.

We walk for five days before reaching the edge of the next city. It’s Kongo, a major ammunition supply city and war base, and certain to be crawling with soldiers. We keep going attempting to reach the next municipality over