The Union
Page 1
The Union
Book 1 in The Union Series
T.H. Hernandez
To Ernie, for believing in me
Contents
Prologue
Book 1 - The Union
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Book 2 - The Ruins
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
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Dear Reader
Also by T.H. Hernandez
Acknowledgments
Bonus Material
Chapter 1 - Hero
Chapter 2 - Wingman
THE RUINS
Chapter 1 - Destiny
Chapter 2 - Playing a Part
About the Author
I wonder if I would’ve spent so much time agonizing over my future if I’d known I’d be dead so soon. Something tells me I would have done a lot of things differently. If I’d known, maybe I would have done everything differently.
When I try to breathe in deeply, wrenching pain stops me short. Every inch of my body is consumed by a bottomless ache, including my lungs.
It’s been days since I’ve had anything to eat, but I no longer feel hungry.
I lift my head, sending a sharp twinge through my skull. My grimace stretches my bottom lip until it cracks and bleeds. The burned coppery taste of blood hits my tongue, making me retch.
I curl into a ball, trying to hide from the pain, but there is no escaping. The packed dirt, small jagged rocks that scrape my cheek, and the putrid odor of decaying leaves all remind me of where I am.
Despair flows from my soul, drowning every last remnant of hope. I begin to cry, but without enough fluid left in my body to produce tears and a throat so ravaged no sound comes out, my body heaves with dry silent sobs until I am empty.
The emptiness eventually gives way to an unexpected calm. I lift my hand over my head and study the tiny rivers of dried blood crisscrossing my palm before it floats to my chest like one of the many brown and lifeless leaves that surround me.
With a resigned sigh, I close my eyes, no longer afraid it might mean never opening them again. In just a short time, I’ve gone through the five stages of grief and have arrived at acceptance.
What I know of death comes from entertainment. Movie deaths are noisy and dramatic, filled with action and brutal emotion. By contrast, mine will be silent and serene.
I wonder if they’ll ever find my body out here or if my family will be left to always wonder what happened to me.
In my last moments of life, I try to piece together the events that brought me here. It all started that evening in May when I took Barklyn for a walk in the park to clear my head. Back when my biggest concern was the lack of any plans for my future.
Now I know my future.
My life ends here.
Alone.
In the Ruins.
Book 1 - The Union
100 Years After the Second U.S. Civil War
* * *
“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”
―William Shakespeare
1
My Biggest Concern
It’s no big deal, just the rest of my life. Before the war, people had more time to sort out their futures – four more years of school – but now? Now, I’m almost out of time.
I drop my tablet with my history notes onto the bed and blow out a slow breath, sending crazy red curls flying in a dozen directions. The late afternoon sun cuts a bright swath across my room. Outside the window, desalinated ocean water gurgles along the channel. But neither the cheerful sun nor the sounds of the manmade stream do anything to improve my mood.
With a dramatic sigh, I roll off my bed and pad over to my door, yanking it door open. I bound down the curved staircase into the great room where my mom is sitting at the kitchen counter, reading. Katie and Rachel are sprawled across the cream-colored velour couch watching some idiotic tween show.
Barklyn leaps down from where he’d been curled up between my twin half-sisters and bounds over to me, tongue out, head cocked to the side, expectantly.
I grab his leash. “I’m going for a walk,” I call to my mom.
She glances up from her tablet, her crystal green eyes taking in my attire. “Like that?”
I glance down at my jeans and faded Epic Vinyl T-shirt. “Sure. I’m just taking Barklyn for a walk.”
“Evan, I wish you’d pay a little more attention to how you dress when you go out.”
I roll my eyes so hard, I nearly fall over.
“I refuse to be a walking billboard for M Clothing.”
“No one is asking you to, but could you at least put on a shirt without holes?”
The holes aren’t the problem, but she’ll never admit it. I hate this shirt and only wear it to annoy her. Mission accomplished.
When I don’t make a move to change, she waves me off with a huff. “Joe will be home in an hour. Be back by then for dinner.”
“Fine.”
I let myself out the front door and walk down the path, dodging a drone delivering a package to our neighbor. Taking my favorite shortcut, I cross through the cobblestone plaza, past the weeping greenhouses, and swing open the iron gate leading to the park.
Tall trees on either side of the path reach out tangled fingers and pull at one another, creating a leafy canopy. Late spring flowers fill the air with aromas of lavender and orange. The only sound is my feet slapping against my flip-flops.
Barklyn pulls at his leash until I unclip him, allowing him to zip across the clearing, a blur of brown and white fur. He spots a group of pigeons and lowers his head before launching himself at them. The terrorized birds scatter in a burst of beating wings and flustered coos.
My self-induced pity party comes to an end when a gorgeous husky wanders into the park followed by his equally gorgeous owner, Bryce Vaughn.
My central nervous system spirals into a frenzy. Bryce’s skin is the color of cappuccino and his slate gray eyes are like the winter sky. And if that combination wasn’t striking enough to turn my legs to jelly, the dimples that appear when he smiles make my heart forget how to beat.
I whistle for Barklyn and he bounds over to me, giving up on the birds. But the high-pitched noise also catches Bryce’s attention, and he turns and waves. Oh, dear god, he’s coming over here. To talk to me. And I’m wearing my rattiest shirt, the one that advertises my bio-dad’s band. Spiting my mother suddenly seems like a stupid idea.
I snap on Barklyn’s leash and steel myself, turning to face him. Bryce is currently dating Alivia Benton, Queen Bee of Moores Academy and my arch nemesis. But when his eyes meet mine, my lungs stall, and all thoughts of Alivia evaporate.
“Hey, Evan.” His smooth, sexy voice causes my pulse to do funny things.
“Bryce.” I only manage a one-word response. I am not one of those girls. I don’t get stupid around boys
. Well, not other boys, but this one is an enigma.
His hands are shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. “Do you live nearby?”
“Yeah, over there.” I point in the general direction of our apartment.
“What brings you to the park this evening?”
“I needed a break from studying for my history final.”
“I took it this morning. It’s not too hard.”
I eye him. “Maybe, but I suck at remembering dates.”
He smiles. “It’s just a matter of finding a way to connect the date and the event.”
A breeze sails across the park, sending pieces of hair into my eyes. I twist my head to get them out of my face, using my hand to shove one of the more offensive curls behind my ear. “Like?”
“I make up poems the way we did in the lower grades. Like, ‘In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue.’ I came up with a bunch of new ones, like ‘In February 2065, the war ended with more dead than alive.’”
“Clever, and yet oddly morose.”
He pulls his hands out of his pockets, shifting his feet. “The secret is to make them as twisted as possible.”
I struggle to pay attention to what he’s saying instead of staring at those perfect, kissable lips.
“…but what I really want to do is mix my love of history and literature. Write about the people who founded the Union. It must have been so cool to live back then.”
I imagine what his lips would feel like pressed against mine and smile.
“What?” He asks, a spark of amusement in his eyes.
Crap, crap, crap. He caught me ogling his mouth. Color creeps into my cheeks. “You seem so…I don’t know, excited, I guess, about your vocation.”
“What’s yours?”
My gaze drops to my toes and I wiggle them. “I haven’t declared yet.”
“Lots of teens take the summer after graduation to figure it out.”
I sigh and glance up. “I’m probably gonna end up at M Clothing anyway. My stepdad wants me work for him. Hell, he expects it.”
“That’s an amazing opportunity.” His gaze drops to my T-shirt, likely wondering why a fashion slob would go into the business. “Tons of kids at school would love to work there.”
No doubt his girlfriend is one of them. She was a child model for M Clothing until Joe fired her for tormenting me. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“You should do what you love, Evan. Find out what that is and don’t settle for less.”
The way he says my name makes little swirly happy feelings dance in my stomach. Barklyn pulls at his leash, smelling something out of range. I reach down and unhook him so he can investigate. “Go on, Barklyn.” He darts off followed by Bryce’s dog.
Bryce raises his eyebrows. “Barklyn?”
I roll my eyes at the stupid name. “Yeah. My mom’s idea. She combined Brooklyn from Old New York, with bark because, well, he’s a dog… She does that. Combines stuff to come up with weird names. Like mine.”
A smile tips up the corners of his mouth. “She named you after Evansville, Indiana?”
I laugh. “Funny, but no. She named me after my grandmother, Eve, and my grandfather, Nathan.”
His smile broadens, revealing his dimples. “It suits you. It’s beautiful and unique.”
I arch an eyebrow. Is he flirting with me? This conversation just detoured into dangerous territory. It’s safe to dream about Bryce, but in the real world, he has a girlfriend. And she hates me. If she finds out her boyfriend is flirting with me, I am so dead.
I whistle for Barklyn and snap on his leash. “I should be getting back.”
Bryce throws me a casual wave. “Maybe I’ll see you and Barklyn here again sometime.”
I turn and walk to the steps but can’t resist a quick glance over my shoulder.
He’s watching me go, his devastating smile lighting up his face. “See you tomorrow, Evansville.”
2
Tomorrow
I wake with a start and realize I overslept. Throwing off my sheet with a loud groan, I stumble out of bed. Barklyn lifts his head from the foot of my bed and yawns. After watching me for a few seconds, he rolls to his side and closes his eyes.
I shuffle down the hall to the bathroom, my sisters’ voices rising in anger from the kitchen below. Apparently they can’t agree on which boy band has the hottest lead singer.
After a quick shower, I return to my room and dress in a pair of faded jeans. I grab a T-shirt from my drawer, but my gaze shifts from the shirt in my hand to my closet. My mom keeps it stocked with the latest fashions from M Clothing. I normally prefer comfort over style, but this morning I’m second-guessing my fashion philosophy.
A white ruffled swing tank from my stepdad’s spring collection catches my eye. I slip it on and check myself in the mirror. My flip-flops look too casual, and I cross the hall to rifle through my mom’s shoes, finding a pair of strappy sandals that perfectly match the top. Yay Mom.
Better, but my hair is a cringeworthy frizzed mess. With enough time, a big round brush, and a blow dryer, I can coax my hair into soft waves, but today, I have to settle for applying some product and twirling the strands into ringlets.
A quick touch of mascara and a little lip gloss and I’m ready to go, but now it’s too late to eat breakfast. I rush back to my room, jam my tablet into my shoulder bag, and fly down the stairs. After grabbing a protein bar from the counter, I kiss my mom goodbye, and race out the door.
The commuter station is overflowing with bodies, and I have to wait until the third train to board. By the time I get on, all the enclosed seating areas are full, meaning I’ll have to sit in the noisy galley. I spot an open seat, but the train pulls out before I can sit and I nearly topple into the lap of the woman sitting in the next seat.
“Sorry,” I mumble, dropping down next to her. I lean my head back and close my eyes. The soft hum of the electric motor is soon drowned out by the buzz of dozens of conversations, while a mixture of body odor and strong coffee pervades the car.
I do my best to block out the external stimuli and run through history dates in my head, and Bryce’s rhymes come to mind. Thinking about his dimples instead of my final makes me smile. I force my thoughts back to history, working my way from Christopher Columbus through Union Formation Day.
My feet silently flip me off as I step off the train and walk across the terminal. I’m half tempted to go back home and change into my flip-flops when Colin spots me.
My best friend lopes over and throws one of his long arms over my shoulder, his shaggy brown hair falling into his dark eyes. “Hey, looking good today, EvTay.”
Colin is fascinated by all things twenty-first century, from music and movies to fashion and food, and especially pop culture. Mashing up first and last names is his ultimate tribute, and a fad that died out long before the first shot was fired in the Second Civil War.
We make our way from the train station to Lisa’s apartment. She flings the door open when Colin knocks and takes in my attire. Her blond eyebrows notch up, but she wisely keeps her thoughts to herself. She knows me well enough to understand there’s a reason I spent more time getting ready this morning, but the look I shoot her keeps her from asking me about it.
The three of us head to the congested sidewalk, bumping shoulders with other pedestrians. We pass shops and restaurants with dark wood exteriors and brick facades that create the illusion of a pre-war Manhattan neighborhood.
Lisa chatters about her summer plans on the three-block walk to school. She’s been accepted into the internship of her dreams at a trendy restaurant in the Western Province. “I lined up an apartment, and I’m going to spend the summer out west. I’m gonna miss you guys, though.” She grabs my arm, pulling me to a sudden stop. “I have the best idea. Come with me. Stay at my place. Ev, you can sort out your…future….” she waves her hand in front of my face, “…while lying on the beach. Maybe indulge in a summer romance. You could use a little boy action.”
“No
way. My mom’s head would explode if I take off for the summer. Anyway, I’m not interested in dating right now.”
“Fine, just look then.” She rolls her dark brown eyes. “I don’t get you, it’s not like you have to sleep with a guy to date him. Besides, no one gets pregnant by accident anymore.”
“You mean no one besides my mom.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and levels her gaze at me. “You’re not going to end up like your mom.”
“Your mom’s life isn’t so bad,” Colin says.
I turn to face him, eyes narrowed. “If you tell me my mom’s hot one more time, I’ll smack you into next week. That’s just creepy.”
Colin flushes bright red. “No…I mean…for having been a teen mom, she’s got a pretty good life. You guys live on the top level. Most people would kill for that.”
“She gave up everything she wanted because of some guy, and then he dumped her the second she got pregnant,” I huff out. “That’s not gonna be me.”
“I’m not saying you should follow in her footsteps,” Colin mumbles. “But you could pick a worse role model.”
I try hard not to roll my eyes.
“Getting back to your plan…I don’t think I can go. I think I’m going to work for Joe. At least over the summer.”