Collapsed: Book One of The Illusion of Truth, page 1
Collapsed
Book One of the Illusion of Truth
Jenetta Penner
First published by Torment Publishing 2020
Copyright © 2020 by Jenetta Penner
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Jenetta Penner asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
First edition
To those who always hope for a better tomorrow…
“There was truth and there was untruth, and if you clung to the truth even against the whole world, you were not mad.”
George Orwell, 1984
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
About the Author
Also by Jenetta Penner
Chapter 1
I’m a Cobalt.
For a while when I was little, I got some harebrained idea stuck in my head that being a Cobalt meant my blood was cobalt blue, too . . . or blue like the midday sky, the color amplified by the iridescent electrodome surrounding the Tenement that keeps us imprisoned unless the Scarlets require our services outside.
Imagine my surprise when I skinned my knee one morning at the outdoor market and the liquid came oozing out bright red.
My heart thudded against my ribcage in excitement, and instead of crying, I squealed with joy to Mama as she ran to me to see if I was okay. “I’m not a Cobalt . . . I’m a Scarlet!” The words tumbled from my lips.
I’ll never forget the terror bathing her green eyes as her pupils widened into saucers. Before I could utter another word, my ordinarily mild-mannered mother slapped her hand, tattooed with the ever-present three blue identification stripes on the back, over my smiling lips. The quick action dragged my loose, dark curls into my mouth, and the unexpected smack stung way more than the skinned knee ever could have.
Crimson blood oozed down my leg as Mama’s head nearly spun around, almost as if it swiveled freely on her neck. She was scanning the marketplace to see if anyone who mattered had heard my exclamation.
“Tenly!” she growled as if my name were suddenly a swear word. “I’ve told you a thousand times—”
Just the wide-eyed look of panic in her eyes made the pain in my knee burst alive. Tears soaked my six-year-old face as a cry muffled by her palm barely escaped my suddenly trembling lips. Somehow, the way she gripped onto me coupled with her terrified expression burned the horrible experience in my mind.
Every detail.
Luckily, the market was—and still is—a loud place. Stank, too. Kind of like a mix of lingering sulfur from the factories in the Tenement and market produce that is long past its prime.
Cobalts get the Scarlet castoffs and the privilege of paying way too much for them. But that day, like every day since, shoppers dressed in tattered garb bustled around to each stall spending what little untaxed Coinage they’d scraped together for the week. They had to hurry. Time spent in the market meant less time working. Less time working meant less funds to spend at the market.
A lifetime of tired eyes and hungry bellies. A circular pattern.
And then you die.
Mama’s stare landed on a Scarlet sentry not more than ten feet from my unfortunate tumble. He had short, blonde hair and was clad in the typical tan uniform topped off with a red cap like a cherry on an ice cream sundae.
Not that I’ve ever had an ice cream sundae—but I’d seen pictures of Scarlet kids enjoying the gigantic treats covered in colorful fruit sauces.
Lucky devils.
The sentry clutched a large, black gun to his chest, ready for action. If he wanted to, he would have shot a stupid Cobalt kid without asking questions. There were plenty of others to take our place performing cheap labor for rich Scarlets.
And not too many people would care if one of us died anyway.
Fewer mouths to feed. Fewer children screaming in the night that we were hungry.
Fortunately, if you can call it that, the tall guard didn’t notice the scene I nearly created because of the market noise and because he was too busy ogling the pretty red-headed girl shopping at a produce stall. Ignoring us, he strutted toward the waif and grabbed her arm, making the poor thing drop her wooden shopping basket.
The memory of the clacking sound it made when it hit the ground and the prized bunch of wilted carrots tumbled onto the street still sends a shiver up my spine to this day when I think about it.
In seconds, the creep leaned in and whispered something—likely obscene— into her ear. As the minute amount of life that had been there left her eyes, she hung her head dutifully and followed him around the back of a nearby building. It wasn’t until years later that I really knew what went on in the filthy darkness of the alley. But that unlucky girl was too appealing to avoid roaming eyes and dirty minds.
Unknowingly, she saved my hide . . . but in return lost her dignity for probably the umpteenth time.
Because of that girl, to this day I keep my gaze to the ground and make myself as unattractive as possible—wild curls pulled back into a tight bun and a perpetually downcast gaze. But at sixteen when your body suddenly bursts into womanhood, the task gets harder and harder all the time.
And honestly, the Scarlet sentries stuck on lowly duty within the Tenement tend not to be that picky.
I still wish I could find out if that red-headed girl is okay. Probably not since I never saw her again. The extra attractive ones get carted off to some unknown place outside the Tenement—and I’m pretty sure it’s not for a life of leisure or a privilege in any way.
The girl and sentry rounded out of sight as a luxe Scarlet transport craft roared across the sky over the Tenement. Mama reached down and yanked my small frame up off the ashy sidewalk.
That night, Papa and Mama sat at the small table in our apartment with no meal, and I ate little more than a crust of stale bread for supper because no way was Mama going to finish her shopping that morning.
But we were alive, and that’s all that counted.
Still Cobalt, but alive.
If you want to call this existence living.
* * *
While sitting on my bed, I trace over the three blue stripes on the back of my own hand containing my DNA sequence, history, and the history of my Cobalt forebears.
There’s no way to escape the shame of who I am. It’s always on display for all to see.
And the Scarlets don’t seem to care that everyone barely remembers anymore what the difference between the Cobalts and Scarlets even was at one time. I know they couldn’t get along, and things haven’t changed much.
The disagreements got so bad it started a war. The Scarlets won, and shortly afterward, Cobalts were forced into work camps, which became the Tenements. There are four of them, though I’ve never seen anything but Tenement Three. But honestly, with the way people still treat one another—Scarlet or Cobalt—I’m not sure if the outcome was the other way around that circumstances would’ve been different.
Hate took over and consumed both sides. And here we still are, bound by the choices of our ancestors.
Ping.
The small sound comes from the window of my tiny, drab room. A flimsy curtain is pushed to the side, allowing the light of the city to flood the small space, which has barely enough room for my bed and a rickety desk and chair where I do my homework. On the desk is a lifelike pencil drawing of a rose drawn last year and given to me by Kalib, my best friend. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips at the sight of it. He’s a talented artist, not that art holds much value in a place like this.
Ping. The noise comes again from the glass.
My bed creaks as I stand and walk to the window. I pull the glass open and find Kalib leaning against the edge of the fire escape. Eyeing him up and down, I swear that in the last few weeks he must have grown three inches. My best friend is over six feet now. Me? I’m not sure I’ll ever beat five foot four.
“What’s up, Ten?’ he says in a low voice, and his lips quirk up into a sly smile. My gut immediately tells me that he’s up to no good—but what else is new?
We are polar opposites, and I’m not sure why we’ve been friends for so long.
Kalib Fis
No babies for me. Ever. I will not be responsible for subjecting another human to this rotten life.
After that horrible day in the market, I made a pact with myself never to get in trouble. My grades are good enough that I might qualify to get out of this hellhole Tenement and be placed in the Cobalt Premier Workforce outside, with the Scarlets. Perhaps I could get a governess job with a wealthy Scarlet family. I wouldn’t see my parents again . . . or Kalib . . . but maybe that life would be better than starving.
Kalib thinks of me as a sister anyway, so I don’t need to worry about him.
“Oh, you know.” I climb out over the rusted windowsill onto the grate of the fire escape. “Just getting ready for the five-course dinner Mama prepares every night.”
His hazel eyes widen in feigned interest, and he rubs his belly covered by his stained white T-shirt. “Mine was six courses tonight. Dessert and everything.”
“Chocolate cake?” I gasp.
We have a running joke to outdo each other with fake meals for entertainment.
He shakes his head and licks his lips. “You know it. Is there anything else?”
Even though my taste buds must know by now that chocolate cake is never on the menu, my mouth waters anyway. “Save me any?”
Kalib scoffs and waves me away dismissively. “Are you kidding me? I ate every last crumb! Licked the plate clean.”
I chuckle and join him at the railing. “Jerk! I knew I never liked you.”
He grabs my arm, pulls me into a rough friend-hug, and tousles my hair before releasing me. As he does, I give him a quick jab in the shoulder.
He grabs the attack spot and rubs it as if in pain. “You watch it, or I won’t give you this.”
“What?” I mutter as I turn and glance out over the city. Smoke wafts from the ever-running factories and spreads like fog over the inside of the electrodome before the technology absorbs the pollution to keep it from spilling out to Carmine, the massive Scarlet city and its surrounding suburbs. My favorite classes have anything to do with science, so I know from my studies that stars exist in the sky outside the dome, but we can’t see them.
Kalib reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a small, shiny, gold-wrapped package and holds it out to me over the railing. “For you.”
My eyes widen, and I snatch it from his palm, staring at the treasure in the distorted moonlight.
“Where’d you get that!” The sweet, roasted aroma of the confection seeps from its thin confines. A chocolate candy. “It would cost a day’s wages!”
I have had chocolate a total of one time in my entire life. For some reason, the mayor came to Papa’s transportation assembly factory when I was ten and gave out candy pieces to a few workers. Instead of eating it, Papa saved his and brought it home to me.
Kalib waggles his eyebrows and his lips quirk into a crooked smile.
In shock my mouth falls open and my mouth goes dry as old bread. “Did you steal it?”
“Would you care if I did?”
A gunshot goes off in the distance . . . probably a Cobalt who did something to break the rules and paid for it with his life. I grit my teeth and gulp.
Of course I care, and Kalib knows this! I shove the contraband back into his hands. “No way, Kalib! You take it back! Tomorrow I’ll be seventeen and I can finally apply for the CPW. I won’t be caught with stolen goods and ruin my chances!”
Kalib presses his lips together while his eyebrows practically knit me a sweater. “You know I’m much more likely to get caught returning it than just eating it and getting rid of the evidence.” He presents the rare treasure to me again. “I got it for your birthday, anyway.”
I examine the precious golden wrapper for too long but finally shake my head. Despite my mouth still watering at the thought of the sweet, smooth, delectable chocolate on my tongue, I push his hand away. “No!”
Kalib rolls his eyes and unwraps the crinkly paper. “You sure?”
My chest tingles with every crackle. “I am not eating that. You shouldn’t either! You could get in big trouble,” I implore and twist at a lock of my curls.
With a grunt, he pops the candy into his mouth despite my warning.
I stare, mouth agape, as he chews the treat slowly, closes his eyes, and moans as if he’s having some sort of moment he should be experiencing in private. “Mmm . . . caramel.”
“Go home, Kalib.” I scoff and turn away, jealousy ripping my stomach in two.
He gulps down the candy and smacks his lips. “You’re no fun, Tenly Hawkins.”
“And you’re a criminal,” I scold and gaze out over the city again. “Someday—”
“Someday, nothing,” he interrupts. “There’s only today. You know this.”
I bring my attention back to him. “You could come with me tomorrow and apply for the CPW. You never put in your application last year; this is your final chance. There could be more . . .” I trail off. I don’t know why I even mentioned the exam. Kalib being on the outside could risk my chances of success in the Cobalt Premier Workforce program.
“Tenly, you know the CPW doesn’t allow my kind—too much trouble on my record. And there’s not more anything—not in the Tenement and definitely not on the outside.”
“There could be more for me out there.” I point out over the railing toward the edge of the electrodome.
Kalib’s lips form a thin line. “I can only hope you’re right. But anyway, I can’t take the test since I have to work tomorrow. If I don’t work, then my family doesn’t eat.” He lets out a long, exasperated breath. “Enjoy your five-course meal.” He stuffs the wrapper in his pocket and swings over to the fire escape ladder to climb up to the apartment where his mom and big sister Kayla live. His pop died in a factory accident five years ago.
There was no investigation.
I reach for my best friend and touch his arm. Despite his recklessness, just touching his warm skin makes me feel safe . . . valid. “Make sure you burn the wrapper.”
“Will do. See you tomorrow.” Kalib’s lips stretch into a sad smile.
I chuckle. “You just said there’s only today.”
He shrugs and raises a brow. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.” He hesitates, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. “I’d really like you to skip the interview tomorrow, and then you could just stay here—with me.”
Strange heat flushes my chest as Kalib fixes on me with intense hazel irises. He’s never looked at me like that before. My mouth goes dry and I barely get out, “I . . . I have to try, Kalib. The CPW program has been my dream forever.”
He sighs and averts his gaze to the ladder again. “I know. My dreams are just different than yours.”
Gulping down my discomfort and saying nothing, I watch as he grasps then climbs the rungs to his floor. The metal echoes as he swings over to his fire escape landing. Then my best friend disappears into his room through the open window above.
Chapter 2
As I stand on the iron platform and gaze out over the city, the sting of a headache pulses at the back of my neck. I rub at the skin several times and twist my head from side to side in a failed attempt to relieve the pain. With a scoff at Kalib’s shenanigans, I throw my hand onto my hip as I stand exposed in the open air. To my left, the sounds of a couple fighting inside their unit meet my ears and send a chill up my spine.
I can’t let myself get off track in thinking about Kalib too much . . . or chocolate, for that matter. My best friend has made his choices. If he would focus more, he could have a chance at getting out of the Tenement too . . . goodness knows that he’s smart enough. Instead, he chose a life of trying to get ahead through shortcuts.
The headache bites at the nape of my neck again and zips into my skull.
Resigned that I can’t solve Kalib’s issue tonight or any night, I crawl through my open window and pull the glass shut. It sticks a tiny bit against the track and doesn’t close all the way. A too-loud sigh escapes my lips as I turn and make the few steps across my room past my messy desk. I open my door to reveal the darkened hall. Saving energy is important because leaving needless lights on means we might have to skip even a measly breakfast.
