HIDDEN: A Dystopian Science Fiction Adventure

by Troy McLaughlan

  H I D D E N

  A Dystopian Science Fiction Adventure

  TROY MCLAUGHLAN

  Copyright © 2017 Troy McLaughlan

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0-9994019-0-4

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9994019-0-3

  BLUE ECLIPSE PRESS

  DEDICATION

  This story is dedicated to you, the reader who with all the millions of choices out there, decided to give my novella a chance. It is my hope that you find the story of “Fives” as thrilling to read as it was for me to write.

  A huge thanks also goes to my family for putting up with the many late nights, weekends, and early mornings spent making this story possible. They are my inspiration.

  Also, a special thank you goes to my writing partner, Joy, who got me involved in this crazy idea to write a story based on a single word. Without her, and her encouragement, this story would have never seen the light of day.

  Also dedicated to the loving memory of Bob and Diane, who were always willing to share a good story…

  BLURB

  HU-645-555 wasn’t supposed to exist.

  Hidden as a child, at the age of twelve she’s brought into a nightmarish world where human civilization has been destroyed. The remnants of humanity are forced to work as slaves by bloodthirsty reptilian invaders called Targs.

  After six years of brutal training, she’s given a cryptic message by her human master and allowed to escape. But is the message she carries real or is she merely the perfect prey…

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  Want More?

  Hidden: One title. Endless possibilities.

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  “Sometimes the best way to hide something,

  is in plain sight.”

  Merrick, Human Overseer

  “Shhh.” Warm arms cradled me as the last echoes of my screams faded.

  My eyes burst open. The worn ceiling timbers of my master’s cellar glimmered. In the illumination of the small lamp under the stairs I saw Lumenara looking down, the light of love shining in her eyes.

  I shivered and grabbed at her blouse, burying my head into her chest. She smelled like wildflowers and her scent comforted me. “Please don’t leave me again.”

  “You just had a nightmare. You’ll be fine.”

  She took a lock of my oily blonde hair and twisted it into a long braided ponytail.

  Memories of days past swirled. Drawing shapes on the dusty concrete floor, playing with rag dolls scavenged from parts in the debris, but most times, I looked out a small window on the opposite side of the cellar. It was near the celling, about as tall as my hand and as wide as my arm. After I turned six, I stacked boxes and crates so I could climb up and get a closer look.

  Through the wavy opaque glass, I could only discern bubble-like shapes and washed-out colors while hearing faint ethereal noises. They’d dance together and mix into oblong forms before pulling apart. For hours I’d watch, imagining enormous chubby animals that laughed and rolled about. A warm magical place, far removed from my lonely solitude in the dark.

  A tear tracked down my face. “I want to come with you into the light.”

  Lumenara stared at me and wiped the tear from my cheek. “We’ve been over this Fives, you can’t come with us. Not yet.”

  I sniffled. “When?”

  “Soon.” She kissed my forehead. Then her hand reached up, took a white carnation from her blonde wavy hair, and placed it into mine. “Maybe when you’re twelve.”

  “But that’s not for two more years!” I wrung my hands through my faded pink nightshirt which was two sizes, too large. “Why can’t I come now?”

  Her worn face strained and her blue eyes turned heavy with worry. “We’re only doing this to protect you.”

  “I don’t understand—”

  Loud thumps echoed from the ceiling and Lumenara’s shoulders snapped up straight.

  “Merrick!” a voice bellowed from up the stairs.

  She gasped.

  “Merrick, you loathsome Hu-man slug, where are you?”

  She let me go and raced up the creaking stairs. “Stay put, child.”

  “Wait, please.”

  I climbed a stair and saw the light bursting forth around her at the top. Brilliant, shining, I had to get to it.

  She slammed the wooden door and locked it.

  I pounded on the other side. “Please don’t leave me.”

  “Be quiet!” Her voice was raw and trembling.

  “Please.” Tears flowed. I couldn’t stay another moment in that frightening place of shadows and noises.

  Through the door, the sounds of heavy footsteps thudded. I took a step back.

  “What was that?” the voice hissed.

  “It’s nothing,” Lumenara said. “We have an infestation of rats in the cellar.”

  “That didn’t sound like any rat. Step aside.”

  “I have seen the rats myself,” she said in a stern voice, “and I will deal with them. Merrick is in the garden. Indigo, fetch him for Draks.”

  “Right away, mistress.”

  A huge stomp shook the stairs.

  “Step aside, slave!”

  The thundering voice frightened me, and I crept down to the threadbare mattress under the stairs. I switched off the lamp and hid under my blanket.

  Some muffled sounds grated. “Indigo, hurry!”

  The sound of shattering glass echoed, followed by Lumenara’s bloodcurdling scream, and then a chilling silence.

  The door smashed open and my heart jumped into my throat. Some stairs creaked. I covered my head with my pillow and shook with fear.

  “What’s going on… here?” Merrick’s last word died in his throat.

  “Lumenara!” he cried. “What have you done?”

  “She refused to let me look in the cellar,” the voice hissed. “So, I dealt with her.”

  “No…”, he sobbed. “Oh, please no.”

  “Humph, you shouldn’t get too attached to your slaves. I’ll make you another to replace her.”

  Merrick continued to weep, calling her name.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I pulled out the carnation and a tear fell. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  ~~~

  I never again approached the stairs. For weeks, I buried my grief and pain behind a wall of tears and tried to forget what happened.

  Merrick came and visited me each day, like he always did. He brought me food and water, but it was never the same. He was never the same.

  Behind the veneered smile, his eyelids drooped and his shoulders slumped. Our conversations were no longer playful, and he never once looked at me. Instead, he spoke with a soft voice, devoid of emotion.

  It was my fault.

  I could see it written in his sad eyes.

  We no longer frolicked and roughhoused after mealtime. Instead, he began my lessons on how to read and write, and left right after that.

  For two long years, it was like this. Until one day, he took my hand and brought me into the light. Then my real nightmare began.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Move your feet,” Merrick said.

  I raised my wooden staff with both hands, bent my knees, and jostled forward and back like he taught me. Merrick circled, his staff held vertically at a slight angle. He stood almost two feet taller than me and was easily twi
ce my weight, his muscular body hidden under some white, loose fitting trousers and a shirt.

  He feigned a blow to my head, and I raised my staff to block it, only to have him pop out the lower end. He hooked my leg and yanked back. I fell forward in heap in front of him.

  “You’re still watching my hands,” he said. “Remember to look forward and use your peripheral vision.” He helped me to my feet, and we resumed sparring.

  He stepped forward and struck again, this time with exaggerated slowness at my right thigh. I moved my staff up to block it and struck with the opposite end under his right knee. Next, I swung my body around his back to hit his tailbone, followed by an upward thrust to the left arm pit. Each of the three areas marked with a light blue patch.

  He fell to his knees and smiled. “Well done, Fives. Your movements are getting more fluid.”

  “Fives” he called me because my slave number was HU-645-555. Common slaves like me didn’t have proper names. Merrick was a slave as well, but he was also an overseer, a keeper of slaves.

  For over two years I trained like this, three hours a day, six days a week, but I didn’t know why. Merrick told me it wasn’t important I know, only that I had purpose.

  He circled me, his light blue eyes searching my body for an opening as I moved my staff to counter. A slight limp on his left side exaggerated his steps.

  He struck, quick as a snake, to my lower ribs. Pain shot through my lungs and knocked the wind out of me. I staggered back. He followed this up with a vicious hit to my shoulder. As I fell backward, I flailed my staff, hitting his waist.

  “Stop!” he said, a disappointed look on his clean-shaven face. “You know the rules. You can only hit me on the blue patches.”

  I ground my teeth in frustration. I could never please him.

  He extended a hand, and I winced as he pulled me up, my right shoulder still stinging.

  “It’s not fair.”

  “Many things in life are not fair. In a real fight, you would never beat me. This at least gives you a chance. You have to be patient and wait for an opening, but strike only in the blue areas.”

  I didn’t believe him. The only time I ever got a chance were the few instances he slowed down enough for me to deflect his blows and swing around to make the critical hits. Otherwise, I just dodged his attacks, and more often than that, got hit by them.

  When we were not sparring with staffs, he had me running laps on the grassy meadow of the courtyard, doing endless push-ups, or jumping rope until I collapsed, but despite the bruises and exhaustion, the worst was yet to come.

  Each slave had a pain giving shard of blueish crystal embedded in their foreheads at birth. The crystal extended into the brain, part of it jutting through the skin. When we were being punished, it shined with a pale blue light. Skull stars we called them.

  “Are you ready?” Merrick asked.

  No, I’m not ready.

  I was never ready for it, yet I nodded my head; for to disobey an overseer meant death at the hands of the Targs.

  He pressed an armband button, and I felt my skull star activate. At first, it tingled like an annoying splinter in the back of my mind. Nothing too terrible, but the memory of past pain sessions always haunted me.

  I gritted my teeth and practiced with my staff, trying to ignore the pain like he taught me. Slowly, the throbbing sensation built, turning into icy stabs. My body convulsed with each one until my knees gave out. I fell to the training mat and writhed, clawing at my forehead.

  “Focus!” Merrick shouted. “This is only level four, and you’ve barely made any headway since last season.”

  “I can’t. It hurts!” The pain roared forward piercing the back of my mind. Throbbing. Making me want to stick a knife in and dig my skull star out myself. “Please. Please make it stop.”

  I wiped the tears from my eyes, knowing they wouldn’t sway him. They never did, and yet I saw the sadness in his eyes.

  “You have to learn to endure this, Fives. If you don’t, all is lost.”

  He lifted me up and helped me through my moves.

  “Try to picture a sunrise,” Merrick whispered. “Feel the cool air on your skin, the sounds of the birds, and the smell of wildflowers. Let it saturate your senses until the pain is a distant memory.”

  I tried. For over one excruciating hour, I tried.

  ~~~

  Afterwards, I was numb. My mind more exhausted than my body.

  Merrick unlocked the training room door and carried me into the kitchen. “You made good progress today, Fives. We’ll work on your footwork more tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow.

  The thought of doing this all over again filled me with nausea.

  “Indigo, clean her up, and feed her.”

  A slave with a tan complexion bowed her head and hooked an arm under mine. She led me step by painful step into the master bathroom. The sun shone thru a small window and glinted off the white tiled floor. Many tiles were cracked, and some were missing. Steam rolled up from an ornate cast iron bathtub, its clawed, enamel feet chipped and stained with rust.

  I smiled with anticipation. She had already filled it with hot water so I wouldn’t have to wait for her to heat some up.

  She helped pull off my sweat-soaked clothing and lifted me into the tub. The hot water rushed over and caressed my aching body, giving my bruised muscles some relief. I sighed and closed my eyes. I could almost fall asleep in the warmth of its embrace.

  “You poor thing.”

  I opened my eyes to see Indigo reaching for a bar of soap. Her long black hair shimmered with strands of gray.

  “I wonder when these beatings will stop.”

  “He’s not beating me. He’s training me.”

  “Ha,” she scoffed. “Is that what he calls it?” She lifted one of my limp arms and rubbed the soap across it. When she got to my shoulder, a sharp pain jolted down my back and I grunted. “You’ve got quite a bruise here.” She moved her fingers in small circles around the edges. Her touch was firm, but not too harsh. “You know why he does this don’t you?”

  I said nothing. I was too exhausted to think and wanted to relax.

  “You look just like her.”

  That got my attention. “Who?”

  Her lips pursed and her eyebrows turned down, like she just ate a lemon. “Lumenara, his favorite wife. She died a few years before you came and he’s never gotten over her, so he takes it out on you.” She took a wet rag and rinsed the soap off. “When Draks said he’d make another, I never thought he’d make a duplicate. You must have come from the same donor cells.”

  “Who is Draks?”

  She froze. The lines in her worn face seemed to deepen. “Someone I hope you never meet, child.”

  That night I laid in my bed thinking about what Indigo had told me. Did I really look like Lumenara? I wondered about the years I spent in seclusion in the cellar, and why Merrick let me leave two years ago.

  Who am I, and what is this purpose my master has for me?

  ~~~

  The next day began like all the others. I woke up before dawn and looked out from my cracked bedroom window in Merrick’s house. There in the twilight were columns of slaves leaving their crumbling mud brick homes. Men, women, older children like me, all with sad, resigned faces.

  Their movements were forced, their pace slow and deliberate. Yet, no one with whips hurried them along. For their skull stars glowed, pressing them forward. If someone collapsed, his skull star shined brighter and his body convulsed until he either got back up or stopped moving altogether.

  They all had similar features as well. Short black hair, soft brown eyes, and thick eyebrows, yet my hair was blond with blue eyes. Even among the house slaves I was different with only Merrick and two others sporting blond locks.

  I didn’t know where they were going. Only that they left the compound and returned at dusk, caked with dirt; their faces exhausted, eyes hollow, and lips parched.

  The sight of their skeletal frames m
ade me sick and forced me to look away. I pitied them and worried if that would be my fate.

  After they were gone, Merrick came to get me. He took me down the creaking stairs to the cellar where he spent two hours teaching me reading, science, and mathematics. He told me it was forbidden knowledge, and that I was to never to teach another slave or speak of it outside that room.

  I still remember the first day he took me from the cellar and led me up the winding staircase to my new bedroom. I rushed to the window and gazed outside for the first time. I was just twelve years old, and I spread my arms, allowing the brilliant sun to warm my skin. I marveled at the golden grass of the savanna, the green leaves of trees stretching their gray branches into a clear baby blue sky, and the rich earth tones of the enormous stone wall that surrounded our compound. The wall towered over the slaves, as tall as three men standing on top of each other and wide enough for two Targs to patrol side-by-side.

  It was like a whole new world had been hidden from me, and on that day I vowed to never be locked in that cold, black cellar again.

  After my lessons, we headed to the training room and started sparring. A couple of hours into our routine, a house slave pounded on the door and some ceiling plaster crumbled.

  “Forgive the intrusion, but Draks is here.”

  Merrick froze, and his eyes popped. “Where?”

  “I told him you were in the garden.”

  He looked around the room, and his breathing sped up. “Go to the kitchen and wait for him.”

  Some footsteps plodded and Merrick unlocked the door. He snatched my staff and tossed them both by the door hinges.

  “Lie on the mat face up and be still.”

  I hurried and complied.

  Who is Draks, and why is everyone so afraid?

  He yanked off his shirt and pants and threw them on the staffs. A ragged two-inch scar flexed on his left thigh. He got on top of me and pressed his face to mine while running nervous fingers through my hair.