Mom leaned her elbow against the door. “Your dad was such an advocate of basic human rights. He was so quick to see the good in everyone.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “If he were here, he’d be able to say the just right thing.”
I swallowed and looked down at my hands, remembering the time Dad took me to Washington D.C. on a special trip with just the two of us. He took me to the Supreme Court Building so I could see the frieze of Moses holding the Ten Commandments before it was torn down. It was going to be replaced with a ‘less controversial’ figure. I’d only been seven, but I remembered how it felt staring up at that frieze and feeling sad for reasons I couldn’t understand.
I missed my dad so much at times it was hard to breathe, but I was glad he wasn’t around to see what was happening to our world. The Book Ban and destruction of historical records would have crippled him—but then there was the Archive. He’d downloaded thousands of historical records onto a tiny drive and hidden it in the cover of his Bible. It was almost as if he’d known what was coming.
The car doors locked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“I should have taken another route.” Mom’s words were clipped with tension, her knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel.
Hundreds of people crowded the streets, rioting and looting stores. “Mom?” I sank down in my seat, my lungs constricting.
We had almost come to a stop. There were too many people in the street to drive. Without warning Mom’s window was hit with a baseball bat. We both screamed. I looked through the cracked glass to see a man wearing a ski mask.
“Get out of the car!” He drew back for another hit.
“Go!” I yelled.
Mom stomped down on the gas pedal, laying on the horn as people dashed out of the way like the parting of the Red Sea. She was still honking long after we’d cleared the city street.
“It’s okay, you can stop now,” I said, putting a hand on her knee the way she’d done to me minutes before.
Her whole body shook. “Complete. Chaos.” Her words were halted. “I hope the Others are really coming to help us, Lark. Because we need help. We need it.”
I nodded and stared up to the empty sky.
CHAPTER
Four
I couldn’t sleep. There were only a few hours until dawn—until Recruitment. I’d spent the past six months obsessing over whether or not I’d be Chosen, but now that it was almost here, all I could think about was Gideon.
Why hadn’t I asked for his last name? I’d searched everywhere online, but had come up empty. And why did I even care? If he’d been interested he wouldn’t have taken off like that. He obviously hadn’t felt the connection that I had.
Ugh!
I tossed back-and-forth a few times before sitting up and punching the pillow behind my back. I took my phone off the nightstand and swiped the screen. In a few seconds, I found the video I wanted. The screen wobbled a few times with my seven-year-old filming skills.
Dad bent down and looked straight at the camera.
My heart squeezed. This was the only video I had of him. He was so handsome, with his dark wavy hair and striking green eyes. He hated being on camera. Both of my parents did, which made this video so precious.
“I want you to remember something, Lark,” he said, pointing up to the frieze of Moses. “They may tear down this image, but there’s something they can’t tear down. Do you know what that is?”
I shook my seven-year-old head and the camera moved with the motion. Dad pointed to his heart. “They can’t take away what’s in here—no matter how hard they try.”
Suddenly, the camera jostled and a mop of chestnut brown hair filled the screen.
The camera pulled back and a young boy smiled sheepishly. A thin scar ran down the side of his face.
“Rusty, come here!” a woman called.
A teasing glint filled the boy’s hazel eyes as he turned to wave at the camera. “Remember my face, because someday I’m going to work in that building.” He pointed up at the Supreme Court.
Dad chuckled. “Is that so?”
“Rusty Harris, you come here this instant!” the woman called again. The camera angled her direction. She tapped her foot impatiently as Rusty ran to her.
A man walked past the camera, blocking the shot. The screen angled to his face and muddy brown eyes. He scowled, the large birthmark under his eye wrinkling in distaste as he walked off.
The camera swung back to my dad. He was watched the man, his brows pulled together in thought.
“Daddy, why was that man frowning at me?” My young voice asked. “And why was that mom yelling at that boy? Are there lots of bad people in the world? Is that why they’re tearing down the statue of Moses?”
He smiled, his warm eyes reassuring. “Most people have good in them, and there are a lot of people who want to do what’s right. Just remember that when times get tough.”
“I don’t want times to get tough,” my young voice quivered.
He reached out and gently ruffled my seven-year-old hair. The camera wiggled with the movement.
“Remember, Lark. The only thing we have to fear is—?”
“Fear itself.”
>
I stared down at my plate of breakfast rations: a cereal bar, rehydrated eggs and some bits of meat posing as bacon.
“The Recruitment begins in a few minutes. Aren’t you going to eat?” Mom glanced at the clock on the wall. She’d been checking it so often I was surprised she hadn’t made time stand still.
I sighed and picked up the cereal bar, alternating each bite with a sip of water to choke it down. I glanced out the kitchen window. “Do you think this is all some kind of twisted joke? I mean, I expected to see a spaceship of some sort, or at least hear about a sighting. If there really are Others arriving from outer space, shouldn’t there be some sign of them by now?”
Mom’s eyebrows furrowed and something unreadable passed across her face. “It’s not a joke, sweetheart. I wish it was.”
I took another sip of water, thinking back to the day six months ago when the Others first made contact.
I’d been taking a math quiz in school when suddenly all the power went out. My phone wouldn’t even work. We sat in darkness, wondering if we’d experienced some kind of EMP when all-at-once a hologram appeared in the middle of the classroom.
A middle-aged woman wearing a strange uniform stood in the hologram. She introduced herself as Lieutenant Hardcastle and explained that she was a representative from an intergalactic Freedom Fighter Academy. We were being contacted because the inhabitants of Earth were considered a liability to the health of the planet, and in violation of several codes of The Intergalactic Council.
There would be a six-month preparation period, after which would come Recruitment Day. All sixteen-year-olds of sound mind were eligible to be Chosen. Twenty teens from each nation would be selected at random to enter an off-planet training program. It would last three weeks off-planet—three months Earth time. The purpose of the program was to give the Recruits skills to take back to Earth to try to salvage our planet.
Lieutenant Hardcastle made it clear that failure to comply with these terms would result in dire consequences for Earth’s inhabitants. She closed the message with details of Recruitment Day, and the hologram ended. The power returned moments later. I’d never forgotten the looks on my teacher’s and classmates’ faces. At first, we thought it had to be some kind of high-tech prank. But then we found out the hologram presentation had appeared all over the world—anywhere there were people. Even remote huts that didn’t have electricity had seen it, and heard it in their own language.
From that point on, all time was determined as “B.C.,” before Contact, or “A.C.,” after Contact. Just one more indicator of how our society was declining. No one could question that the transmission had come from another world, and no one dared find out whether the consequences were real or not. By law,
every able-bodied sixteen-year-old would be watching the broadcast during Recruitment. If you were Chosen, you went. Any Recruit or other individual who tried to impede the decision would face a life sentence in prison.
“Lark, it’s time.”
I turned a blank stare to Mom, watching her face come into focus across the table from me. She forced a brave smile, pushing her chair back from the table to come and give me a hug.
I hugged her arm at first, and then stood to give her a tight embrace. Neither of us said anything. We’d talked through it countless times: I had nothing to worry about. I wasn’t going to be Chosen. The odds were too high. But that didn’t keep my heart from slamming against my ribcage as I glanced at the clock.
9 a.m. Showtime.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
I pulled back and nodded.
We both jumped as the power went out. There were enough windows in the kitchen so we could still see, but the lack of hum from the refrigerator was unnerving. I checked my phone but it was dead. Just like last time. Mom took my hand and I held my breath as a static sound buzzed seconds before a hologram appeared above the kitchen table. It was the same woman as before.
“Citizens of Earth, I am Lieutenant Hardcastle. I am here to represent the Intergalactic Freedom Fighter Academy.” The hologram was crystal clear. I could have sworn her light green eyes were looking straight at me. The fine wrinkles at her mouth deepened as she continued, “As stated six months ago Earth time, this is Recruitment Day. All able-bodied sixteen-year-olds should be viewing this Broadcast.”
Reagan was home now, recovering from a broken rib. She was watching. Daniel was watching from the hospital. I hoped for his sake he wasn’t considered ‘able-bodied.’ I should have envied him for his possible exemption, but ever since my confession to Gideon, my desire to defy the odds was almost overpowering. I wanted to be Chosen. I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. I shook my head to clear the irrational longing.
Mom gave me a worried sideways glance.
I smiled to reassure her.
“The names and pictures of the Chosen from your nation will appear on the hologram shortly,” the lieutenant continued. “If you are Chosen, you will be given further instructions. If not, you may return to your normal activities.” She gave a curt nod. “The following Recruits have been Chosen from the United States of America.”
I dug my fingernails into my palms. The lieutenant’s face disappeared, replaced with the holographic image of a boy my age with Chestnut brown hair. A computerized voice read his name, “Rusty Harris. Boston, Massachusetts.”
I swallowed. Mom reached for my hand. I turned to her, my heart pounding.
“One down, nineteen to go.” She gave my hand a squeeze.
I nodded and looked back at the hologram, wetting my lips as another boy’s face appeared. Each face flashed for a total of about thirty seconds before a new one appeared. We’d seen nine Recruits so far, and all of them had been boys. There were only eleven spots left.
“Maybe they’re only taking boys,” Mom whispered as the tenth picture appeared. “Oh, I hope they’re only taking boys!” She covered her mouth with her free hand.
My stomach dropped. “There don’t seem to be any patterns in location. So far they’ve Recruited from all over the nation.” My eyes bulged as the next face appeared. “Look! They picked a girl!”
Mom’s face fell and I bit my lip to hide my relief. The redheaded girl was Recruit eleven. Nine spots left. I held my breath before each of the next three Recruits were Chosen—all of them girls.
Mom sucked in a breath as yet another girl was Chosen. “Ten boys and ten girls.”
“That’s a good sign, right? That they want to be fair?” I bit my thumbnail. Another girl. There were only three spots left now.
Mom paused and turned worried eyes my direction. “Hopefully.”
I hugged my arms across my chest as the next two Recruits were Chosen. Why had I allowed myself to hope? I’d known the odds were impossible. I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat.
Mom gasped and gripped my shoulder.
“Lark Taylor, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,” the computerized voice read.
My eyes flew open. My pulse hammered, hammered, hammered as I gaped at my picture on the hologram.
I’d been Chosen.
CHAPTER
Five
“This isn’t happening,” Mom whispered, squeezing my shoulder tighter.
The doorbell rang.
Lieutenant Hardcastle appeared, wishing the Recruits luck before the hologram ended. The lights in the kitchen blinked back on.
The doorbell rang again.
“The door.” I walked as if in a trance. I was one of the Chosen.
“Lark, wait!” Mom called behind me.
It was too late. I was already reaching for the door. A kind of morbid curiosity drove me forward. I had to see the alien on the other side. I opened the door. My breath caught. “Gideon?”
He gave me a sideways smile, revealing his dimple. “Recruit Taylor, I’ve been instructed to provide you transport.”
My heart stuttered wildly. He was even more attractive than I’d remembered. I titled my head to the side, looking past him to his cab parked in the driveway. “They sent a cabbie to get me?” Not that I was complaining, but I’d expected something a little more exciting than a taxi—like some tricked-out spaceship hovering over my house.
Gideon must have read my thoughts because he turned to glance at the cab and then back at me, his intense blue eyes sparking in amusement. “Don’t worry. This is only a temporary transport to get you to the main airship. If you’ll say your good byes to your family now, my orders are to take you there immediately.”
“You’re not taking my daughter anywhere,” Mom said. She pulled me behind her and folded her arms, staring Gideon down.
I touched her shoulder. “Mom, it’s okay. This is the guy we were telling you about last night. The one who saved Daniel.” I stepped forward and met her eyes. “You can trust him.”
Gideon nodded once. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to her while she’s in my care.” He stood soldier-straight but his eyes were soft.
Mom looked between us and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” When she looked up, tears filled her eyes, but her expression was calm. She took my face in her hands. “Lark, somehow,” she bit her lip and shook her head, “somehow I knew this was going to happen. You were meant for this.”
I held her gaze and then slowly nodded. “I know.”
She stepped back, her brows pulling together.
I swallowed. “I felt it too. I wanted to be Chosen. I wanted it for me . . . and for Dad.”
Mom covered her mouth with her hand and made a small sobbing sound. I could tell she was trying to be brave. Finally, she dropped her hand and nodded. “I know he’s proud of you. He’ll watch over you, so I don’t need to worry, right?”
I took her hand, hoping she couldn’t feel the way I trembled. I straightened and forced a brave smile. “‘We have nothing to fear but fear itself.’”
She closed her eyes, pulling me in for a bone-crushing hug. After several seconds, Gideon cleared his throat. He stood a few yards away to give us privacy. We turned to him and he ran a hand through his dark hair.
“I’m sorry to cut things short, but if we’re not on our way soon, you’ll be considered non-compliant.”
Mom shifted her weight. “I’ve never known a cabbie with a vocabulary like yours—or one so young for that matter.” Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you, really?”
“It’s classified.” He glanced at his watch and back at me. “Ready, Recruit?”
I nodded. “I just need to get my things.”
He shook his head. “Your instructions are to bring nothing with you. Everything you need will be provided.”
My mouth dropped open. “But . . . wh
at about my phone?”
An amused gleam lit his blue eyes. “Where you’re going, you won’t have service.”
“Will she be able to contact me while she’s gone?” Mom asked.
He shifted. “I’m afraid not.”
Her eyes widened in panic and I touched her arm.
“It’s okay. I’ll be back before you know it.”
I thought longingly of my journal, and then shrugged. I glanced at my phone to see several texts from Reagan and a few other friends. I handed it to Mom. “Text Rea back and tell her,” I paused. “Tell her I’ll be seeing her soon.”
Mom nodded, wiping away more tears as she blew me a kiss. I pretended to catch it and plant it on my cheek, blowing her a kiss in return as I walked with Gideon to the waiting cab. Mom caught my kiss and placed it on her own cheek. “I love you, baby girl,” she said, forcing a brave smile.
“I love you too.” I stared at her a few seconds more before getting into the passenger seat of the cab.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Taylor. She’ll be safe and back to you in three months,” Gideon said before climbing into the driver’s seat. He checked his watch again and wasted no time putting the cab in reverse. I waved to Mom until she was no longer in sight.
Gideon held the watch to his mouth. I decided it was more like a cuff than a watch and distracted myself from the ache I felt leaving Mom by wondering what other tricks it could do.
“I have the asset,” he said. “We’re en route to the meeting point. ETA: 1.5 hours.”
I turned to him in shock. “Okay, so you’re definitely not a cabbie. Who are you? And don’t give me that ‘classified’ business. It wasn’t coincidence that you were there last night, was it? Have you been watching me?”
Gideon kept his eyes on the road. “It’s my job to protect you.”
“Your job? So, you’re what—CIA or something?”
He glanced at me before returning his eyes to the road. “I’m not from here.”
I raised an eyebrow. “As in, here, Philly—here, the U.S.?”
“No.” His blue eyes turned to penetrate mine. “Here, planet Earth.”
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