Awakening: Dystopian Romance (Absence of Song Book 1)

by C. B. Stone

  “Oh! I did scare you didn’t I? Geez, I’m so sorry Jaelynn,” he says, moving toward me and causing me to take a few quick steps back. He stops immediately and holds his hands up, showing me they’re empty.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I swear. I just wanted to help.” He points with his chin over his shoulder. “Go, look at your tomatoes. I’ll stay here, with my hands up right where you can see them.” He eyes the knife again. “Take the knife if you want.”

  Hiding my anxiety as best I can, I do exactly that. I grab the knife up off the ground, while keeping my eyes fixed on Noah. “What do you mean look at my tomatoes?” I ask.

  “Just go look, okay? Trust me.” He smiles again, his expression reassuring, and something about that lopsided grin tugs at my insides.

  I’m not really sure why I should trust him, or even if I can. But I decide it can’t hurt to look at my plants to see what he’s going on about at least. I slowly slide past him, holding the knife at the ready and never taking my gaze off him. I walk over to the small tomato patch and glance down, but don’t see anything out of the ordinary. I look back up at Noah, narrowing my eyes.

  “So what am I supposed to be looking for exactly?”

  He turns slowly, hands still raised, until he’s facing me. Then he grins. “You have tomatoes now,” he says, pointing with his chin.

  I crinkle my nose. That’s impossible. I’d been out here only this morning and there had been nothing but the rotten one and a few others that were dying before they’d even had a chance to grow. I wonder if this is a trick to distract me, to make me take my eyes off of him.

  “That’s impossible,” I retort, head held high. “I was just out here this morn—,” my words trail off as I watch Noah reach out and touch nearby leaves, and they turn from brown to green. My jaw drops. “How are you doing that?” I step closer to him, unable to help myself. My fascination is growing with every second.

  Noah shrugs, his dark eyes dancing, despite his own apparent bewilderment. “I really don’t know what it is, I just have a way with plants. But I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he admits, reaching out to touch another plant.

  We both watch wide-eyed as cucumbers that have long been dried up suddenly spring back to life in his hand.

  “I can’t believe it. This is impossible,” I mutter under my breath. I turn to look back down at my withered tomato plant again, leaning closer and this time really looking at them. My heart trips over itself when I notice several plump, red tomatoes that hadn’t been there earlier in the day, languishing heavily from the vine.

  Reaching up, I scrub my eyes vigorously with my free hand, then blink. “Am I dreaming?”

  Noah chuckles. “No, you’re not,” he says. “Not unless I’m dreaming too.”

  I reach out and gingerly touch a supple, red tomato. My lips part in wonder, feeling utterly bemused.

  It was cool to the touch, even wet feeling with dew, which is impossible considering dew has been nonexistent for what seems like forever now. Just the fact that I can feel all of this means it can’t be a dream. Can it?

  Turning back to Noah, I gape at him and grow even more suspicious. What sort of mischief is he working? What I’m seeing is impossible. It can’t be happening.

  Yet, it is.

  My eyes drill into his as a series of thoughts occur to me. I cross my arms and tap a foot, before rapidly firing off questions at him, my tone escalating with each one I give voice to.

  “Who are you, really? How are you doing this? Ordinary people can’t do anything like this. Maybe one of the Ministry’s scientists can, but definitely not some drifter. Is that what you are? A government scientist? Are you just out here running some sort of wacko experiment?” I step closer at the last, arms akimbo, fists propped on my hips as I stare him down.

  I see Noah bite back a smile as he raises his hands again, taking a step back, and realize in a flash how ridiculous I must look. I’m barely 108 pounds soaking wet, significantly smaller than the man standing before me. Certainly not much of a threat, which obviously seems to amuse him.

  “Easy. I’m not a scientist, I swear.” He snorts as soon as he says it, his tone a little incredulous when he asks, “Do I look like a scientist?”

  I study him carefully. He’s dressed in ragged jeans that have seen far better days. His plaid shirt has a hole in it right above his stomach, and his boots are covered in thick, black mud. His hair is badly in need of a cut, and he can’t be much older than 24 or 25.

  If I’m being fair and honest, I’d never heard of someone that young working in the Ministry’s science department. It usually requires years and years of schooling to get a position like that. Still, I’m not sure how else to explain the transformations I’m witnessing.

  Stubbornly I insist, “I don’t know. I’ve never met a real scientist before. For all I know, all scientists look like you.”

  “Oh come on, Jaelynn,” Noah laughs. “Even drifters know that in order to work for the Ministry of Science, you gotta come from wealthy, brainy stock. I know I don’t look that well bred, and I haven’t looked in a mirror in years.”

  I bite my lip. It sounds truthful. “But how else can you explain this?” I pick up the tomato off the vine and hold it up, shoving it right under his nose. “This is purely the work of science. It has to be. There isn’t any other explanation.” I stare at the tomato, feeling bewildered. It’s perfect.

  I look up again when he speaks. “You sure about that?” Noah gives me a smile that crinkles his eyes, and my breath hitches a little.

  I shake my head. “No. No, I’m not. Not really. But I don’t know how else to explain it.” I give him an arch look and finish flatly, “And unless you can, I’m going to continue to be suspicious of who you really are and why you’re really here.”

  Noah studies me for a moment, not saying anything. Then, looking as though he’s made a decision, he asks, “What if I told you it has to do with the dreams you’ve been having?”

  I try to keep my expression neutral, even as my body stiffens. “The what? What are you talking about?” I half-heartedly try to dismiss what I’d revealed to him before. I wish fervently now that I’d never said a word.

  Instead of answering, he starts singing again.

  Little birds sing songs of praise

  all the summer long.

  But in colder, shorter days

  they forget their song.

  I instantly recognize the melody and a chill slithers down my spine. I stand absolutely still, striving to give no indication I’d ever heard those words before. Holding my head up high, I arrange my features carefully, and meet his gaze squarely before speaking.

  “Maybe as a drifter, you’re not aware Noah, but singing will get you arrested. It’s illegal. And I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t risk the Ministry’s wrath for anything.”

  I sniff, unable to suppress the faint flicker of guilt at the lie, even if it is to a drifter I barely know. I’m risking the Ministry’s wrath already.

  Noah must have caught something flash in my eyes. His own eyes flickered, but with what it’s too hard tell. “Oh, but you already do. And you know you do, Jaelynn,” he murmurs, stepping closer. I fight the urge to back up again, instead choosing to stand my ground. “Don’t deny it.” He stares down at me expectantly, so close we’re practically touching.

  I swallow hard, then clear my throat and demand, “Just who are you, really?” I lick my dry lips, feeling completely off kilter all of a sudden, but much too stubborn to back down.

  Noah’s gaze falls briefly to my mouth, then snaps back to mine. He seems to shake himself a little, and takes a step back on his own, putting space between us again. I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding.

  Scrubbing a hand through his already tousled mess of hair, he merely shrugs. “I told you earlier, I’m Noah Roarke. I’m just a simple drifter.”

  I shake my head vigorously, anxiety making my movements sharp and more
forceful than I intended. My long blonde hair flares out around my face. “No,” I state decisively. “I don’t believe you. Drifters can’t make gardens come to life with a touch of their hand. Maybe you’re not one of the Ministry’s scientists, but you’re definitely not just a simple drifter, Noah Roarke. If that’s even your real name.”

  Noah’s eyes crinkle again as his lips tilt, albeit this time a touch sardonically.

  “Yes, m’am. That’s my real name and I can prove it.” He reaches into his pocket, and I grip the knife tightly again, ready to use it if necessary. “Easy there, Jaelynn. I’m just getting my wallet. It may be slim as far as cash goes, but I do have an I.D.” He winks at me teasingly.

  Pulling out a plastic card, he holds out to me. I snatch it from him, taking my eyes off of him just long enough to look at the card and see the official Ministry logo. I flip it over and can see it’s made from the same hard plastic the old identification cards were made from. On the front, there’s his face, a little less shaggy and far more clean shaven than he is now. His name, Noah Roarke is printed neatly at the top. I grudgingly hand it back to him. It’s old and out of date, but it looks authentic to me.

  “Why don’t you have the identification chip?” I ask. “These aren’t even used anymore.”

  “The same reason you don’t, I’m sure,” he answers.

  “How do you know I don’t have one?”

  “Do you?” he shoots back.

  My parents never liked the idea of the chip, and knowing what they know about the Ministry, I trust their instincts. My parents say it can be used to track your location, and they fear it can be used to spy on you as well. Being Ministry guards, they’d had no choice but to get them, but they’d requested an exemption for me, claiming I was too frail as a child to handle the process. When I eventually go into my own profession, I’ll have to request another exemption. As an adult though, it’s less likely I’ll be granted one.

  Pursing my lips, I respond pertly, “I don’t. But only because I was sickly as a child.” I sniff.

  “Uh huh. Sure you were,” Noah winks. “Be that as it may, being a drifter has some benefits. No one can force me to do anything I don’t want to do because they never know where I’m at.”

  “So you’re hiding from our government?” I demand.

  Noah shrugs. “I guess you could call it that. It’s not like anyone worries ‘bout us anyway. Since we can’t get work or buy a home without entering their program, most drifters all die from starvation sooner or later.” He continues indignantly, “Government doesn’t even see us as a threat.” He looks as though his nose is a little bent about that last part, and I have to hide a smile of amusement.

  Leave it to a man to feel indignant over not being seen as threatening. “When’s the last time you ate?” I ask, surprising both myself and Noah, who looks at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. I have to resist an urge to reach up and pat myself, making sure there’s just one.

  Still eyeballing me, Noah says, “Last job I had ended two days ago. They fed me a cup of oats before I left. Why?”

  Dropping down to my knees, I rifle through the tomato plants, talking over my shoulder as I do. “Because you’ve reminded me that some people have it even worse than I do,” I say mildly, before triumphantly finding and pulling another fat tomato off the vine to go with the one I’d picked earlier.

  Standing back up, knife in one hand, tomatoes in the other, I awkwardly shake the dust from my skirt and then shove the tomatoes at his chest. He reaches up reflexively to grab them. “Here. Take these. I would give you more to eat, but right now, we don’t have anything. And it’s the least I can do after what you’ve done.” Then I mutter under my breath, “Even if I don’t understand it myself.”

  Noah resists, pushing the tomatoes back toward me, his jaw tightening and a hint of his own stubborn nature revealing itself. “Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly,” he says.

  My lips tighten. I realize suddenly that I’m no longer uncomfortable with him being here. Maybe it’s the simple fact that he hasn’t tried to attack or threaten me in any way thus far. But if I’m being completely honest, it’s something more than that.

  There’s something about this man makes my heart ache. Makes me trust him. And the fact that he hasn’t eaten in a few days bothers me deeply. As to the way he seems to make my belly all aflutter, I resolve to just ignore that. My eyes wander to the object propped against the old stump, and I resolve to ignore that too.

  A little impatient, I awkwardly brush a strand of hair from my face with the back of my tomato filled hand. “Do you have any other work lined up?” Lowering my arms, I shove the tomatoes into the pocket of my apron and lay the knife down on a nearby stump to grab later on my way back inside.

  Noah looks away as if he doesn’t want to answer the question. Tapping my foot, I ask again, “Well, do you?”

  He shrugs slightly. “No, I don’t. I figured I’d just keep walking around the Valley until someone had something for me,” he mumbles.

  I snort indelicately, which he seems to find amusing. “It’s the Valley. People don’t usually trust strangers around here and you’re going to have a really hard time finding work if folks don’t trust you. Why don’t you just leave? Head into the next city where it’s more common for drifters to look for work?”

  Noah shrugs again. Clearly he isn’t interested in traveling to the next city.

  I sigh, my heart strings tugging sharply again. I think for a few minutes, then finally say, “Well, if you’re going to insist on hanging around, then I can at least offer you some work, some food and a place to sleep for a few days.”

  My tone is grudging, although in my heart of hearts, I know that secretly I’m happy he will have a reason to stick around for a while. There’s something about him. The only problem is going to be making sure my parents stay none the wiser. I mentally groan, already imagining the worst.

  Noah’s eyes grow wide with shock, then gratitude sweeps across his scruffy yet handsome features. “Thank you, Jaelynn. I have no words to express my thanks, I really don’t.” He pauses, then queries, “I just have to ask though, I thought you didn’t trust me? What’s changed your mind?”

  I sniff and lift my chin before responding, “My mind isn’t changed. I still don’t know if I can trust you, but I also can’t turn a starving man out into the Valley to wither away and die. I was raised better than that. Besides, since you helped my garden grow, I thought maybe you can make a few more miracles happen around here.”

  Noah blinks and then just stares at me, an incredulous expression on his face. I stare back, not understanding his expression at all.

  “What?” I ask self-consciously. Once again, I resist an urge to reach up and pat around, make sure I only possess one head, he’s looking at me so weirdly.

  Noah looks a little shell-shocked. “Do you even know what that word means? What a miracle is?” he asks.

  I wrinkle my nose in confusion. “As far as I know, it’s a word I made up. It isn’t something that really exists. Why? Have you heard of it before?”

  Noah nods. “I have. But trust me, it’s much better to think of it your way,” he says cryptically.

  Feeling even more confused, my curiosity piqued sky high, I can’t resist digging deeper. “What do you mean? What’s it mean?”

  Noah just shakes his head, suddenly looking a little grim. “I’m not telling you. Not worth the prison sentence,” he says, his tone resolute.

  I try to lighten up the now heavy air hanging between us by teasing him a little. “So now you’re suddenly afraid of being taken away by the Ministry or something? Where was that fear earlier, when you were singing?”

  He shakes his head impatiently, brushing my teasing words off before capturing my gaze with his. “I’m not afraid,” he says, his deep, dark eyes boring into mine intently. “At least not for me. I’m afraid for you, Jaelynn. It’s better if you don’t dig any deeper on this, at least for now, okay? Please just t
rust me.”

  IV

  I’M not sure why, and I’ll probably never be able to explain it, but I trust that dark gaze implicitly, as well as the mysterious man behind it. I know though, that my parents will be upset if I invite a stranger into our home, so I try hard to think of a way around the problem.

  I sigh, unable to come up with anything that might work. “I can’t let you sleep inside, Noah,” I finally say, biting my lip. “My parents would never allow it.”

  He nods. “I understand.”

  I’m only slightly surprised he doesn’t argue, but feel compelled to rush on with an apology anyway. “I’m sorry. I wish I could let you sleep inside where it’s warm,” I add, still racking my brain for something I could say that might convince my parents to let him stay.

  Noah steps closer and grips my shoulders, startling me out of my thoughts. My gaze flies to his. He stares into my eyes and smiles. “Jaelynn, relax. Don’t worry about it. I’m used to sleeping outside, and it should be a nice night tonight.” He glances up at the cloudless sky, prompting me to look up too, before I respond.

  “Oh you won’t have to sleep outside at least,” I assure him. “The good news is we do have a shed out back. Here, let me show you.”

  I reach up, gently pulling his hands from my shoulders before offering him an awkward smile. I wait as he picks up the thing he’s been carrying around all day, hoisting it back over his shoulder. Then I snag his free hand and turn to lead the way, tugging him along behind me.

  We head toward my backyard which is nothing more than a dry pit of dirt. Pitiful really. I always think it would be such a beautiful backyard, if only the grass would grow.

  Near the edge of our property stands a shed that holds all our gardening supplies, among other odds and ends. As a kid, I’d often play in the shed, and we’ve always kept a cot in there for the odd passerby. Nothing much, but at least it’s something. I can find him a blanket or two from somewhere to keep warm, and honestly, it shouldn’t be half bad. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.