AFTERMATH:
YESTERDAY
Episode 1
SHIRLEY KENNETT
Copyright
Aftermath: Yesterday, Episode 1
Shirley Kennett
Copyright © Shirley Kennett 2014
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced without the permission of the author.
Sixteen-year-old Anna Hart flees a deadly situation in a failing human colony on the planet Silva. Using her skills with an ancient weapon and her empathic ability, she struggles through danger and betrayal, searching for a place where love and hope can thrive.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 ~ Yellow Button
Chapter 2 ~ Sixteen
Chapter 3 ~ Brave Warrior
Chapter 4 ~ Pledge
Chapter 5 ~ Devos
Chapter 6 ~ Dome
Chapter 7 ~ Noah
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter 1 ~ Yellow Button
Year 1243 of the Silvan Colony
Anna Hart knew she should try to get some sleep. Her body ached for it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a few hours’ rest. During the day, they yelled at her and hurt her. There wasn’t a place on her body from the neck down that wasn’t some shade of red, purple, blue or yellow—bruises measuring out a timetable of abuse. But that was just pain. Pain faded.
The nights were worse.
She lay stiffly on her narrow cot. There was no sheet or blanket, and she was given only a short, thin gown for the night. The gown didn’t cover enough of her for decency, so she twisted on her side, tucked her legs up as high as she could, and tried to cover her body that way. It never worked. There was always an uncomfortable feeling of exposure.
She should try to get some sleep. But when the Voice was talking, it was impossible to sleep, and when the Voice was quiet, she waited in fear for it to start up again. It felt as though something horrifying and evil had crept into her ears, some kind of worm or insect that wriggled in slow, excruciating spirals. Little drills that never made any progress, just turned, turned . . .
In the early days, she would claw at her ears until they bled. Anna didn’t do that anymore. They kept her fingernails cut short anyway, to make sure she couldn’t do any serious harm.
Suddenly the drilling sensation stopped. One misery was about to be replaced by another: the Voice.
“Hello, Anna. Feeling better?”
She made no response. It was a male voice, low-pitched, grating, superior. During the previous night, she’d vomited the unusually pleasant meal she’d been given for dinner. It happened every now and then—something they put in the food or water. She’d suspected it when she saw the overflowing plate, but her stomach had overruled any thought of not eating.
“Not in the mood to talk. That’s all right. I can do the talking for both of us. You belong to me, Anna. I own you totally. If I don’t think you’re making any progress in your loyalty education, or even if I get bored with you, I can press this button right here in front of me. The red button. Do you remember what the red button does, Anna?”
Anna closed her eyes and mumbled. “Yes.”
“Good girl. If you don’t cooperate, I can press the yellow button. You know what the yellow button does?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“Puts gas in the room that makes me choke. It . . . ”
“Yes?”
“It makes me feel like I’m going to die,” she whispered. The sensation came back to her, squeezing her throat closed. She began shivering uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered and she bit the inside of her mouth. The taste of the blood brought her out of it, which was good. The more helpless she looked—and she was being watched—the worse it got.
“The program needs strong, loyal girls,” the Voice said. “It’s your duty as a future citizen to suppress your disloyal behavior. Can you do that, Anna?”
Anna didn’t answer. Thoughts were bubbling up through her fear.
No, you rotten asshole! Come in here and I’ll show you a strong girl! I’ll . . .
She squashed the thought, but not fast enough. They couldn’t read her thoughts word for word, but her brain activity and emotions were fair game, and she knew that blip of rebellion would be noticed. She pushed herself back into abject fear. It wasn’t hard. The shivers returned.
“Too late, Anna, too late.”
She heard the whoosh of gas entering the room. Her heart pounded against her ribs and she held her breath, held her breath . . . couldn’t hold it any longer. She screamed, gulped the air, and began gasping, her hands at her throat.
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