Fadeout

FADEOUT

CHRISTINA J. ADAMS

2013 Copyright Christina J. Adams

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

For my Dad

With all my respect

You are always there when I need you

And to the One I love

You fill my life with wonder

Table of Contents

Chapter 0.5: Silas

Chapter 1: Silas

Chapter 2: Silas

Chapter 3: Jamar

Chapter 4: Jamar

Chapter 5: Silas

Chapter 6: Silas

Chapter 7: Jamar

Chapter 8: Silas

Chapter 9: Silas

Chapter 10: Jamar

Chapter 11: Silas

Chapter 12: Jamar

Chapter 13: Silas

Chapter 14: Silas

Chapter 15: Jamar

Chapter 16: Silas

Chapter 17: Jamar

Chapter 18: Silas

Chapter 19: Silas

Chapter 20: Jamar

Chapter 21: Silas

Chapter 22: Jamar

Chapter 23: Silas

Chapter 24: Jamar

Chapter 25: Silas

Chapter 26: Jamar

Chapter 27: Silas

Chapter 28: Jamar

Chapter 29: Silas

About the Author

~~~~~

And Carillians for the Machine

A darkness filled the nation, little ones beware

Oppression comes to all and torments without care

Chaos, pain and death chase our people every night

We only had two choices: Die or stand and fight

The battle that we won was not without its cost

Someone had to pay for the dignity we lost

Tireans, Faans and Ajaks begin new life serene

Justice for all and Carillians for the Machine

Ajaks in the chamber, Tireans on the throne

A cow in the stable, a hawk to soar alone

A horse on the battlefield as a Faan is to war

A spy in the branches and a boat on the moor

Memory is the answer, emotions are the key

Protection for our cities, light for all to see

A moment of compassion hides a lone wolf unseen

Plague, darkest night and Carillians for the Machine

Dangers on the horizon, Tireans beware

Before the foul disease starts spreading everywhere

A dagger in the shadows, bloody and unclean

The answer is Carillians for the Machine

Chapter 0.5: Silas

Guards brought the fifteen-year-old boy in yelling and kicking. They forced him to the shiny table in the center of the room. The table’s metal glinted from the sole bright light directly overhead. It was more metal than Silas Durant had seen in all his eight years combined. The light from the metal was blocked as two guards held the teen down on the table while a third guard secured the straps for his arms, legs, chest and chin. He was left alone for a few minutes, but the time did nothing to calm him. The teen strained and pulled and screamed.

There was a nervous hush on the other eight-year-old kids that Silas could almost taste. All 27 of them had been locked in the adjacent room for over two hours, but no one wanted to move. They were frozen, watching the teen through the glass wall. It was the first time Silas had been taken anywhere without his parents and now the guards said he wouldn’t be living with them anymore.

Silas leaned closer to the glass. The teen on the table looked a little like his parents’ neighbor, Mrs. Dowell. He had her light brown eyes and the same lips. Unlike Mrs. Dowell, he had several strands of dark hair growing on his upper lip that weren’t quite enough for a mustache. Silas knew Mrs. Dowell had children and her youngest had been a boy. She didn’t like to talk about it, none of the adults did, but she had left a teddy bear in the old crib and baby boys were always given teddy bears. It struck Silas deep inside that this could be her son.

A man in a white coat walked calmly over to the teen and began attaching some kind of head gear to his forehead. A thick strap went completely around his head. Two studs were connected to the straps and a visor was hooked to them so that it curved around the top of the teen’s head. Lastly, a sensor on the top of the visor was screwed to a large metal box with a clear tube running to a deep rectangle bin. The man stepped back and went to monitor the numbers on one of the screens.

Now that the teen was connected, he struggled even more. The man in the white coat clicked several sections of the screen and different colored lights reflected off the table. The teen stared up at them and his muscles began to shake involuntarily.

Please, don’t, he begged. The sound echoed inside the children’s room as clear and crisp as if they were standing right next to him.

Silas couldn’t see what the teen was watching. It was higher than the top of the glass would allow him to look. One of the other boys in the room tried to press himself against the glass, but it must not have worked because he gave up after a minute.

Stop please. I won’t do it again, the teen repeated over and over. Tears began to form and slipped down the side of his face.

Something flashed on the screen the man in the white coat was watching. The man glanced up to a small room made from darkened glass with wooden stairs leading to it.

He’s ready, was all the man in the white coat said.

There was a loud click, a speaker crackled and a deep voice said, Start the Machine.

At those words the teen began struggling again. There was a grinding noise. All the lights in the building brightened and the boy screamed. He kept on screaming as small glass balls rolled down the tube from his head to the container.

The light in the children’s room hissed and brightened too and all the children glanced up at it. Some of the girls in the room began to cry. Soon it seemed as though everyone was screaming or crying. A girl ran to the door and began pounding on it, but no one let her out.

Silas swallowed. He tried to close his eyes, but he couldn’t. The process lasted for hours. Most of the kids huddled together in small groups as far away from the window as they could. Silas wanted to hide with them, but he was motionless. He wanted to cry or scream, yet nothing would come out.

The more glass balls that rolled away, the quieter the teen got until he was completely still and then everything became too quiet. The teen’s eyes were dull and unseeing. His fingers limp and his mouth parted. His chest breathed so softly that Silas kept watching to see if it would stop. But the teen kept on breathing, in and out. Then the man in the white coat came back and unhooked the completely unresponsive teen. Another man came, lifted the teen into a wheelchair and took him away. There was no need for restraints. Silas didn’t think the teen even knew what was happening to him.

A speaker in the room crackled and several of the girls started crying again.

This is your only warning, the same deep voice from earlier said. Fall in line, obey the rules and don’t make waves or this will happen to you.

The kids struggled to their feet and lined up by the door. Silas joined them secretly relieved to be moving again. They waited in line for another hour until a guard came and escorted them to their new rooms, a ten-by-ten foot cell with a wooden bunk bed, a toilet and some cubbies hanging on the wall. Boys were taken to one ward and girls to another.

That night Silas huddled in his new bed. He couldn’t sleep. He kept picturing what had happened earlier. Every sound made him jump. Even the buzzing of the hallway light was strange. So when footsteps sounded down the hall, Silas was immediately tense. The door to his cell slid open and Silas watched in horror as two guards entered. They grabbed him and moved him out of his cell, away from the boys ward and into the building where the Machine was kept.

No sound would come out of Silas’ mouth and he felt like he wanted to collapse, but somehow his feet kept him upright and held his weight. There was a spotlight on the empty table where they had strapped the boy. It made the chrome seem shiny and dangerous. Silas could hardly take his eyes off it, but then he heard someone talking in the corner.

This one is different. See how he’s not crying or shaking.

Test him anyway. It was the voice from the speaker.

The man in the white coat appeared out of the darkness and held a scanner near Silas’ head. It beeped and whirled but did not hurt. Silas stood still holding his breath and hoping that whatever they planned to do would happen quickly.

There was a final beep. The man pressed the button and held the scanner to Silas’ head again. When the final beep sounded once more the man grunted.

He doesn’t even register.

Test him again.

I tested him twice to be sure. This boy has no emotional registry at all. He must be defective.

There was silence from the darkness, then a sigh. Not necessarily. I’ve heard of cases like this. We’ll have to keep our eye on him and I want to get regular updates sent to me, for my eyes only. Wipe the last hour from his memory and take him back.

Chapter 1: Silas

Five Years Later

The three new boys huddled together in front of the unopened yard door. Silas watched them out of the corner of his eye. He kept his face forward so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself and silently wished they would stop glancing about. It would only make things harder for them, and their first week in the Cartiam would be hard enough if it was anything like his.

The sharp whistle blew signaling the door’s opening. One of the boys jumped. Tymas, the Faan guard standing by the door, walked over to the boy and cuffed him so hard the side of the boy’s face smashed into the concrete floor. The boy began to cry, but he stood up and stayed in his spot as the door opened slowly.

Now run, Tymas said nudging the first new boy with his baton.

Along the wall. Silas closed his eyes as the boy ran straight out into the yard.

Two gun shots crackled reverberating again and again in echo. Feet shuffled and Silas peeked to see what had happened. The boy was still running, like a deer in a ripe corn field infested with rabid dogs. The next shot hit the dirt by the boy’s feet and he leaped to the side. Silas didn’t get to see anymore because the line was starting to move. The other new boys were more tentative in entering the yard, but Stephen a fifteen year old jogged passed them, turned right and ran in the dirt groove near the side of the wall.

Stephen set the pace like he did every morning and the other guys fell into place behind him. It was a fast pace. Fast enough to raise everyone’s heart rate above 130 when it was sustained for an hour. Silas remembered wondering how he would ever keep it up the first week he arrived, but it was almost too easy now. The first boy figured out where he was supposed to be running and rejoined the line by the wall.

Before they were halfway done with the first lap, the girls were let out of their ward and they quickly caught up with the boys’ line. No one was in a rush. Most of them had done this before, with the exception of the four new girls at the front. Every chance Silas got he scanned the girls out of the corner of his eye for his older sister. Malina was normally easy to spot, with her bright brown eyes and quick smile no matter what she was doing. But this day Silas couldn’t find her. His heart pounded faster and he feared that she had been taken. The Machine made the lights flicker all night long. One teen was missing from the yard and all he could do was hope it wasn’t her. No one was ever taken without cause, but if the guards were watching they would have had plenty of cause.

Yesterday, Malina had yelled at Sebastian, the yard bully, after he tripped Silas in the yard. Silas knew the instant that his nose came up from the dirt and he saw the look on her face that she was not in control. Her eyes widened and her lips pressed so thin they almost disappeared. What was worse was that Silas knew she was doing everything she could to let it go and she couldn’t. She marched across the yard and Silas had scrambled up to get in her way.

You little imp, Malina hissed. Leave my brother alone.

Sebastian jerked. Silas wanted him to walk away, but when Sebastian saw how riled Malina was he’d only smirked.

Looks like someone’s going to have a trip to the slaughterhouse, he said in a sing-song taunt.

Shut up! Malina shouted. Her hands began to shake and she lunged at Sebastian.

Silas caught her and pushed her back.

It’s okay, he said, his voice as calming as he could make it. I’m not hurt. Look at me.

Malina shuddered, took several ragged breaths and let her attention settle on Silas.

Your nose is bleeding, she said.

I like my nose bleeding, Silas said, wiping his sleeve across his nose.

Silly. It was her nickname for him, but it had been a while since she’d used it so he didn’t complain this time. Malina let out a short laugh. She buried her face in her hands and then collapsed to the ground. I’m sorry. I couldn’t--you were....

I know.

Do you think they noticed? Her voice barely came out.

Silas didn’t know what to say. This was exactly the type of incident they looked for and it had happened in the yard. He’d spent all night worrying that he wouldn’t see her today.

As he began his second lap, Silas had to know she was still safe, that the missing person was not his sister. He craned his neck to check the girls closer to him and almost tripped, but he saw her. Malina had her hair tucked back into a braid, different from her usual ponytail, which was now starting to come loose. Her normal smile was gone and she plodded after everyone as if she were only going through the motions. But she was here and safe.

Silas pushed his relief down. It wouldn’t do for the guards to see it. He refocused on the pounding of his feet and the feel of the breeze as it hit his sweaty matted hair. Any time he grew tired he thought of the picture on the calendar in his cell. It was a beautiful, calming scene. A forest of trees and a small waterfall that flowed cool and free between them. He wondered how it would feel to be that free. Something about the line of the trees and the stilled rush of the water made him want to run faster and run far away. But he couldn’t. The chip implant at the base of his neck made sure of that. Still, Silas couldn’t get escape out of his mind.

The whistle blew again and everyone slowed to a walk. They did one more lap to cool off and then everyone lined up according to age, all 358 of them; the boys on one side and the girls on the other.

The speakers crackled. We will begin the week off with the selection.

Silas could almost feel the air stop moving as everyone held their breath. He glanced over to where Malina stood and saw that she was biting her lip. As one of the older girls she was running out of chances. Silas wasn’t as concerned for himself. No one at 13 was old enough to be picked, but next year he would be and then long pauses like these would be torture.

Hearing the selection every week only reminded him that one day he would be hoping to hear his name called and all the while knowing that boys were not picked as often as the girls were. If his name was called, it meant he either had good genes, genes they wanted passed on, or he had average genes they didn’t care were passed on. Silas had no delusions about his chances. But he’d always believed Malina had a chance. She was pretty, at least that is what he figured since many of the older boys would hang around her and follow her across the yard with their eyes. He thought she was beautiful in a way their mother was too tired and too sad to be, but being Malina’s brother he always figured he was bias.

The name called will report to Officer Westminster for transport. Remember that good behavior is rewarded. You are given food, clothing and beds and you have the opportunity to better yourselves by having your name in the selection, but these can be revoked. Strive to be good and your name might be called. Another long pause and Silas thought he heard someone give a frustrated sigh. This week’s name is Emily Fo-ax

Faux, some girl said, but it wasn’t Emily. Emily was squealing and was surrounded by a group of girls hugging her and stroking her back. Malina stood in her place, shoulders dropped. Two of the guards, both from the servant class Ajax who had somehow managed to work higher than their station normally allowed, walked over to Emily and escorted her away.

That is all, the speaker said and everyone started to mill around.

Silas walked slowly over to Malina. He kept his gaze on the new boys and as he got within hearing distance he asked, Are you okay?

She was silent. He wasn’t sure if she hadn’t heard him or was just trying