by C. B. Stone
“Not yet,” he says, shaking his head.
“But... why not?” I ask. “This is amazing!” Instead of looking pleased though, my Dad looks... scared? He holds onto my arm, clasping me in a vise—like grip, not letting me leave his side. “This isn’t amazing, sweetie. This is bad. Very, very bad.”
“Bad? But Daddy, look —“
He cuts me off. “Listen to me, Jaelynn. We need to be smart and we need to be safe. I need you to hide. I don’t care where you hide, but you have to hide. You have to do it now... And whatever you do, don’t let me know where you’re at, okay?”
My smile falters, confusion clouding my features. “But Daddy, I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to understand,” he says curtly. He stops talking for a moment, as if he’s listening for something in the distance. “But whatever happens, know that I love you, okay?” He looks at me then, pinning me with his gaze.
“I love you too Daddy,” I whisper.
“Do you have anywhere you can go?” he asks. “Is there any place you sneak off to when you want to be alone? Someplace you’ve never told your mother or I about?”
I rack my brain. I really don’t. I have nowhere to go, not that isn’t obvious at any rate. I’ve never had to run away before. I stare at him as shockwaves of fear begin to overcome the sense of wonder that has enveloped me ever since I saw the land blooming to life around us. I just shake my head and feel tears burning my eyes.
Papa sighs, pressing his lips together, looking worried. “You’ll find someplace.” His eyes grow wide again, and he listens, as if he hears something I don’t. “Just go. Now. Go, Jaelynn, you have to go!”
He lets go of my arm, giving me a gentle shove, and I stumble a little, rubbing away the soreness in my arm, trying to forget how hard he gripped me. I open my mouth to speak, to ask the many questions burning through my mind, but he holds up a hand and cuts me off.
“Jaelynn, you need to go, now. You don’t have much time.” His tone has turned urgent, and that urgency sparks my own sense of preservation.
I nod, grabbing my shoes, throwing them on my feet and running out to the shed. I pound on the door, and Noah opens it up right away.
“My dad says we need to go, now. I don’t know what this is all about,” I all but sob, my heart thundering in my chest and tears clogging my throat.
But as I stand before the open door of the shed, I hear it now. The rumbling. That’s what my father was listening for. The earth shakes beneath our feet, and I know in an instant they are close. Too close. They’ll be coming from land and from overhead as well, I can feel it.
Noah is still dressed and looks as though he was waiting for me. He grabs his things and we run out of the back gate and into the thick woods behind my house. I have no idea where we’re going, but my dad says we need to get out of here so I just pick a direction and we start running for all we are worth.
The rumbling gets louder and louder behind us, shaking the ground so much so that I can feel it in my gut, and I can hear nothing but engines and motors that seem to be coming from every direction.
Fear rises again, hitting me like a brick to the head. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
XI
THE forest isn’t brown and dead like it had been the day before. The canopy overhead is thick, the leaves are green, and the bushes are full of flowers blanketing the earth around them. It’s under one of those bushes we rush to take cover.
“They’re going to find us,” I whisper, panting.
“Yes, they will,” Noah responds, panting just as hard. “It’s really only a matter of time now.”
I stare at him, mouth agape.
“You’re so uplifting, you know that?” I shake my head. “The least you could do is be positive, reassure me that everything will be okay. Something.”
“We will be okay, but I told you that already. They will catch us, I have no doubt about it, but that needs to happen too.”
I put my head in my hands and feel like crying again. I’d had enough of these riddles, of these questions without any answers. What is happening, and why?
Noah puts his arm around me, and I expect to be shocked, but am pleasantly surprised when it feels no different than a hug by any other ‘normal’ person.
Sighing a little, swallowing my fear as best I can, I lean into him and let him comfort me as the earth literally rumbles all around and beneath us, even rattling the leaves.
And then Noah does the worst possible thing he could do in that moment — he begins to sing to me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but don’t bother asking him to stop. There’s probably no use. He seen it all anyway. He knows what will come to pass. We will be prisoners soon and in this moment, I’m too tired to fight it. Between the excitement of the night, and the excitement of our morning, exhaustion is taking its toll.
Slowly, I relax, letting myself be cradled by Noah as we hide from our fate. Before long, I drift off to sleep.
******
The symbol that was on the shed is right there in front of me, just within my reach. But looking closer, I can see now that it’s more than just a symbol.
There is a man, who looks to be hanging from it. He isn’t moving. He looks as though he is suffering greatly.
I desperately want to walk up to him, to help him down from whatever it is he’s hanging on. I want to do something.
But then a very strange sense of peace overcomes me, and I just know, whoever he is, he will be okay. In fact, he already is okay.
Just as I will be okay. Just as we will all be okay.
Noah has been right about that all along.
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Please keep reading for a chapter excerpt from Rehabilitation (Unbelief Book I).
Rehabilitation Chapter I
THE world’s changed. I don’t know this because I witnessed the change, or even because I felt it. No. This is all I’ve ever known, but I know it’s changed because I see what’s left behind.
Destruction.
Jacob is striding ahead of me, his strong back broad and straight, his steps sure and true. I often imagine he’s balancing the world on those shoulders. His unruly blond hair is brushing past the nape of his neck, and I know his ice blue eyes are laser focused as he makes his way through the rubble. He’s quiet, as am I, every step stealthy because though we know there aren’t any people out here anymore, there are other things.
Dangerous things. We pick our feet up as we walk and make sure not to kick any of the debris surrounding us on accident. I grimace, eyes scanning the ground looking for anything that might be of value. The pack I carry slung across my shoulder is light at the moment, but I’m hopeful we’ll be able to find something useful today.
Ahead of me, Jacob stills. He lifts a hand, signaling me to stop, then drops to his knees, crouching. I immediately follow suit, making myself as small and insignificant as I can, so whatever he’s spotted, won’t spot me. After several slow, quiet moments, hearing nothing but the sound of my breath as it clouds the air in front of me, I shuffle closer to Jacob.
“What is it?” I whisper in a voice quiet enough I don’t think it’ll carry beyond us.
He inclines his head in the direction in front of us. I squint, eyes searching along the cold terrain for the threat spurring us to crouch down out of sight. At first, I don’t see much beyond the norm. There isn’t anything visible other than the ruins of the Old World city. Then I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t notice it before, because its coloring matched the gray landscape around us, but now I see what has us stopped.
“A cougar,” I mutter. The hairs on the nape of my neck rise and I suppress a shiver.
The large animal’s gray
fur looks mottled, missing patches here and there, striped by burns in others. It looks skinny, no doubt starving as are most things in the Old World. But I don’t need telling to know its teeth work just fine, regardless of it’s meager appearance.
And it’s claws.
We wait in silence, holding our breath and watching the mangy animal limp and sniff at the air. After a while, it finally decides it’s not going to find food or water in this area and lumbers off.
We wait a few minutes more for it to disappear from view before we straighten back to full height. I shrug my shoulders as I do, trying to loosen muscles gone tight with nerves. I expel a puff of air, it’s smokey tendrils drifting off toward the sky like a lazy feather. “Guess it didn’t find anything good out here,” I mumble, then look over at Jacob, unable to hide the relief in my tone or my face. “We got lucky.”
Jacob looks down at me, a small smile on his face. “Luck has nothing to do with it.” He winks.
I roll my eyes and start moving, passing him before he takes the chance to start this conversation again. Maybe if I just ignore him, he'll get the hint and won’t start babbling on about fate and what not.
“Don’t roll your eyes,” he chastises, his voice carrying with it a gentle laughing tone as he follows behind me. “It’s true.”
Apparently, I am wrong about his babbling. I sigh. It doesn’t matter if I keep walking or not, he’s still going to bring it up.
“Can’t we just keep moving?” I ask, my voice reflecting irritability as I try to derail the subject. But Jacob isn’t to be sidetracked.
“We are moving,” he reminds me, laughter still coloring his voice.
Which is true, we are, but that isn’t the point. I meant just moving, as in no talking to accompany it. I sigh again, the small crease indicating I’m cranky appearing between my brows. But Jacob is Jacob and he’ll keep instigating this conversation—no matter how dangerous it is—because it’s the type of man he is.
That’s how much he... well, how important it is to him. I frown, a part of me proud he’s so firm in his beliefs, another part worried it will get him in trouble one day.
“Think about it, Sinna,” he tells me, and I can hear the excitement in his voice. “What were we doing the first time we met?”
I try not responding. Instead, I scan the area, looking for potential places that might hide things we can use or trade when we get home. It’s the main reason we’re out here anymore anyway, but it isn’t the first reason we came into the ruined city.
“We were looking for a—”
“There!” I point ahead of us, not caring I just interrupted him. In the distance, maybe a mile away, there’s a long building, the space of several Old World houses, and it’s about the height of three of them piled on top of one another.
Jacob looks, bright eyes filled with hope as they search. Too late, I realize how my exclamation must have sounded to him. Sure enough, when he spots the building, his shoulders slump a little in disappointment and he lets out a sigh.
“—a church,” he finishes. “We were looking for a church.”
I feel guilty for getting his hopes up. Although we go out mostly now to find Old World items we can trade, Jacob still can’t resist keeping an eye out for that fabled church.
“There aren’t any left Jacob.” My voice is quiet as I rest a gentle hand on his arm. “They were all destroyed after the War.”
He only nods. I know he still dares to hope one survived, even though he knows the truth. I’m convinced that’s why, out of everything the Elite has banned since the War, belief is most dangerous in their view.
You’ll do crazy things for what you believe, even when you know what you’re doing is pointless.
“Let’s go,” I tell him.
In perfect sync, we start moving toward the large building. I’m not sure what it is—maybe a school or a prison perhaps. Those are the buildings we find most often, and most of the stuff inside them is deteriorated beyond any recognition or value. But every once in a while we we get lucky and find something good.
Personally, I hope it’s a hospital we’re walking toward. Hospitals always hide the good stuff. Drugs, antibiotics, and other medical things most people back home don’t possess and can’t get. A hospital would be best case scenario in my book.
“Maybe it’s a library,” Jacob muses out loud. His voice is still saddened, but he’s trying to stay lighthearted and act as we always do on our trips into the Old World.
“A library,” I scoff. “What about a hospital? Hospitals always have the best stuff.” My words escape unthinkingly, echoing my thoughts of moments ago.
Jacob just shrugs. “Depends on what you’re looking for I guess.”
I roll my eyes at him again and we fall back into easy silence. Libraries are okay, I admit to myself. I’m not sure I’d ever let on to Jacob though. Books are rare and hard to get your hands on. The only people who can print them anymore is the Elite and most of those are so filled with propaganda (and are flat out boring, if I’m being honest), people just aren’t interested in reading any of them.
But Old World books are a different breed altogether. They’re filled with adventure, romance, and most dangerous of all (at least according to the Elite), Old World history. There’s a market for such books, albeit a narrow one. First, only people who can and do read want them. That narrows down buyers considerably. Then you need to find people willing to take a risk they’ve gotten their hands on a banned book. The list given out by the Elite containing banned books you can’t read is so long no one’s real positive exactly what’s on it. And to top it all off, you have to find someone who isn’t going to turn you in if you sell them a book.
I know a few people who fit the profile, but they can’t buy books often and are only on the look out for specific ones, so I don’t much like making book runs.
Jacob’s looking for a specific book, too. That’s why he’s so interested in the libraries. The thing is, the book he’s looking for is definitely banned. It’s the only one on the list that everyone knows it’s illegal to have.
Worse than illegal in fact. Having it could land you in Rehabilitation. Or worse.
Secretly, I hope he never finds the book he’s looking for. I don’t tell him this, but in my heart I hope for it every time we leave the safety of home.
Please don’t let him find it.
I’ve been in the lead, but Jacob takes over as we head toward the entrance. I can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at him for putting himself ahead of me. It’s not a jealousy thing. I know it’s about protecting me, his going ahead, but it annoys me no end he thinks I need protecting.
Nevertheless, I follow him up concrete steps toward the set of double doors. Jacob pauses right outside them. There’s a couple windows looking into the building, but they’re narrow and dirty, covered in years’ worth of dirt and grime. Inside, it’s impossible to see a thing.
Jacob glances at me and raises his eyebrows in question. “What do I think?,” he asks me silently.
I hesitate.
Being out in the ruins of the Old World is dangerous for a lot of reasons, but the most pressing one right now is we don’t know what’s inside that building. It could house another wild cat like the one we saw earlier, or could be filled with toxic mold, or be ripe with some other unexpected danger.
When we get inside the building though, it isn’t what either of us thought it would be. It isn’t filled with poisons or dangerous predators—at least, from what we can tell—but it also isn’t quite as exciting as we’d hoped. Instead, it’s a school. For younger kids it looks like. At least that’s what I think, based on the rotted and molding smiley faces plastered on the walls.
“So much for the hospital,” I mutter, my voice echoing through the long hallway, sounding eerie.
Jacob shrugs and acts as though it doesn’t matter, but I can tell he’s disappointed, too. He was really hoping for a library. Or a church. I mentally sigh, my innate worry for h
im rising up again.
“There might still be something good,” he says with a smile.
I shake my head at him, amused. “Ever the optimist.”
Together we walk down the hall, our steps cautious. Debris taking the form of everything from bricks to shoes to scraps of old, shredded clothing litters the ground. We’re treading lightly, because although it doesn’t look like anything is here, we know better than to assume there isn’t. I glance at the doors along either side of the hallway and cringe back, trying to put more distance between them and myself. There are large X’s on some of the them. Both Jacob and I avoid these automatically. There aren’t any history books that talk about the Old World and the Last War much, not in any detail at least, but we have been out here enough times we know exactly what’s behind those doors.
And I have no desire to see it.
“Must have been close to one of the bomb sites,” Jacob murmurs, as though afraid to wake the dead. Or maybe he’s just showing respect. “My dad used to say that when the population got exposed to toxins from the bombs, a lot of people suffered. Some decided it was better to just... go out quietly instead.”
Jacob’s dad has been dead about as long as mine’s been missing. I don’t think they’d been friends or anything, but I think that if they’d gotten to know each other, they would have been. At home, neighbors didn’t like mixing, it was too risky. Anyone could be an Elite hiding out, just waiting to make their move. The only people you can trust are your family members.
It was a fluke me and Jacob even became friends. And if I’d been older, like I am now, I don’t think it would have happened.
I glance at him sideways, studying his strong profile as he stares at the X on one of the doors. I’m glad we met when we were kids... even if we can never to agree on much of anything.
Folding my arms across my chest, I mutter, not able to help myself, “Or this was a testing site, just like the Elite always says. How people used each other to test out new drugs, new weapons, not caring what happened to them.”
