Flip (The Slip Trilogy Book 3)

by Estes, David

  This world, Benson thinks, lost in his memories.

  In this world, he found love, and family, and friends, and a surprisingly happy childhood, and a strength inside of him that no one can ever take away. In this world, he found something good.

  So as broken and wrong as this world sometimes is, Benson knows it’s still worth living each and every day to the fullest. The future isn’t set in stone for anyone, so he might as well help make it the way he wants it.

  ~~*~~

  Keep reading for a sample of The Moon Dwellers, which Buzzfeed calls “One of 15 Series to Read if you Enjoyed The Hunger Games”, available NOW!

  A personal note from David…

  If you enjoyed this book, please, please, please (don’t make me get down on my knees and beg!) considering leaving a positive review on Amazon.com. Without reviews Amazon.com, I wouldn’t be able to write for a living, which is what I love to do! Thanks for all your incredible support and I look forward to reading your reviews.

  Acknowledgments

  My wife, Adele, says this is my best series, and she’s really hard to please, which is why she’s my editor in chief. First and foremost, I want to thank Adele for supporting me during this massive life change, which has taken me from a consistent-income career as an accountant, to the up and down rollercoaster-income of being a fulltime author. I couldn’t have done any of it without you, nor would I have wanted to. You’re my partner in all things.

  Thank you to my agent, Andrea Hurst, for fighting for me and my books every step of the way, and always having my best interests at heart.

  For another series of covers that blend perfectly together, thank you to Tony Wilson at Winkipop Design. Your work is art, and I love how you’re always thinking about how my books’ spines will look on a bookshelf, even though they aren’t in bookstores (yet).

  Thank you to my beta readers, Terri Thomas, Karen Benson, and Anthony Briggs Jr. You three have taken the word ‘support’ to a level that leaves me breathless with appreciation. This book is at least a thousand times better because of your constructive feedback.

  To my two favorite groups of people in the whole world, my Street Team (Estes Angels) and my official Goodreads Fan Group (David Estes Fans and YA Book Lovers Unite), THANK YOU for being YOU. Never change. I love you all.

  And last but not least, the biggest thanks of all goes to all those readers who have taken a chance on any of my books. Without you, I’m just a guy writing stories. But with you, I’m an author.

  ~~~

  The saga continues in other books by David Estes available through the author’s official website:

  http://davidestesbooks.blogspot.com

  or through select online retailers including Amazon.com.

  Young Adult Novels by David Estes

  The Dwellers Saga:

  Book One—The Moon Dwellers

  Book Two—The Star Dwellers

  Book Three—The Sun Dwellers

  Book Four—The Earth Dwellers

  The Country Saga (A Dwellers Saga sister series):

  Book One—Fire Country

  Book Two—Ice Country

  Book Three—Water & Storm Country

  Book Four—The Earth Dwellers

  Salem’s Revenge:

  Book One—Brew

  Book Two—Boil

  Book Three—Burn

  The Slip Trilogy:

  Book One—Slip

  Book Two—Grip

  Book Three—Flip

  I Am Touch

  The Evolution Trilogy:

  Book One—Angel Evolution

  Book Two—Demon Evolution

  Book Three—Archangel Evolution

  Children’s Books by David Estes

  The Adventures of Nikki Powergloves:

  Nikki Powergloves—A Hero Is Born

  Nikki Powergloves and the Power Council

  Nikki Powergloves and the Power Trappers

  Nikki Powergloves and the Great Adventure

  Nikki Powergloves vs. the Power Outlaws

  Connect with David Estes Online

  David Estes Fans and YA Book Lovers Unite

  Facebook

  Blog/website

  About the Author

  David Estes was born in El Paso, Texas but moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania when he was very young. He grew up in Pittsburgh and then went to Penn State for college. Eventually he moved to Sydney, Australia where he met his wife and soul mate, Adele, who he’s now been happily married to for more than two years.

  A reader all his life, David began writing novels for the children's and YA markets in 2010, and has completed 21 novels, all of which have been published. In June of 2012, David became a fulltime writer and is now travelling the world with Adele while he writes books, and she writes and takes photographs.

  David gleans inspiration from all sorts of crazy places, like watching random people do entertaining things, dreams (which he jots copious notes about immediately after waking up), and even from thin air sometimes!

  David’s a writer with OCD, a love of dancing and singing (but only when no one is looking or listening), a mad-skilled ping-pong player, an obsessive Goodreads group member, and prefers writing at the swimming pool to writing at a table. He loves responding to e-mails, Facebook messages, Tweets, blog comments, and Goodreads comments from his readers, all of whom he considers to be his friends.

  A SAMPLE OF THE MOON DWELLERS BY DAVID ESTES

  Available NOW!

  Prologue

  Adele

  7 months ago

  Hands grope, men shout, boots slap the rock floor.

  Clay dishes and pots are smashed to bits as the Enforcers sweep recklessly through our house. There are more bodies in the tiny stone box that I call home than ever before. The walls seem to be closing in.

  My mother’s face is stricken with anger, her lips twisted, her eyebrows dark. I’ve never seen her fight like this. I’ve never seen her fight at all.

  It takes three bulging Enforcers to subdue her kicking legs, her thrashing arms. For just a moment I am scared of her and not the men. I hate myself for it.

  I realize my sister is by my side, watching, like me. I can’t let her see this—can’t let this be her last memory of the ones who raised us. I usher her back into the small room that we share with my parents, and close the door, shutting her inside alone.

  When I turn back to the room, my mother is already gone, taken. Undigested beans from our measly supper rise in my throat.

  My father is next.

  The Enforcers jeer at him, taunt him, spit on him. As he backs his shoulders against the cold, stark, stone wall, five men corner him. Smart. They don’t underestimate him.

  He makes eye contact with me; his emerald-green eyes are hard with concentration. Despite the inherent tension in the room, his face is relaxed, calm, the exact opposite of his eyes. Run, he mouths.

  My feet are frozen to the floor. My knees lock, stiffen, disobey me and my father. I am ashamed. After all that my father has done for me, when it counts the most, I fail him.

  One of the men lifts an arm and a gun. I hold my breath when I hear the shot, a dull thwap! that doesn’t sound like a normal gun. The man moves backwards slightly from the force, but his legs are planted firmly and he maintains his balance.

  Father slumps to the floor. I feel my lips trembling, and my hand moves unbidden to my mouth. My frozen feet melt and I try to run to him, but a big body bars my way. I kick him hard, like my father taught me. My heel catches the Enforcer under his chin and his head snaps back. Like most people, he underestimates me.

  The next Enforcer doesn’t.

  The Taser rips into my neck and tentacles of electricity slam my jaw shut. My teeth nearly snap off my tongue, which is flailing around in my mouth. They don’t take it easy on me just because I’m a kid, or a girl—not after what I did to the first guy. Still stunned by the Taser, I barely feel the thump of their hard boots as they kick me repeatedly in the ribs. My eyes a
re wet, and through my blurred vision I see the arcing nightstick.

  Strangely, it feels like destiny, like it was always going to happen.

  I hear my sister’s screams just before I black out.

  Tristan

  A brief history of the Tri-Realms

  They say the meteor was enormous. Any life left on the surface of the earth when it hit was wiped out by either the shockwave caused by the collision, or the resulting tsunamis unleashed across the world’s oceans. Humans were forced to move underground. Or so the story goes.

  Secretly, government scientists expected it for years, using covert teams of miners to dig the world’s largest caverns in preparation for the inevitable. But still: There wasn’t room for everyone. It would’ve been terrible: the Lottery. Families ripped apart; friends lost; blossoming relationships cut off at the knees. Of course, key individuals, like politicians, doctors, scientists, and farmers received a free pass, but all others just got a number. The number gave them a one in a hundred chance of getting selected to move into the underground facilities.

  All the rest were destroyed.

  And that was just the United States. No one knows for sure what happened to the rest of the world. Perhaps they weren’t so prepared. Perhaps they were all dead.

  Year Zero would have been difficult for everyone. Losing relatives who didn’t make the cut; eating from the rations of rice and beans and hoping it wouldn’t run out before the leaders and their teams of advisors could come up with a way to grow food underground; most people becoming miners; living in darkness.

  Now all of that is just a part of everyday life.

  These days, time is measured from the day the meteor hit. It’s 499 PM (Post-Meteor). Time before Armageddon is referred to as Before-Meteor, or BM. The funny thing about Armageddon: we survived. Well, some of us anyway.

  Year Zero’s first president was Stafford Hughes. Things were run much like before Armageddon, albeit in a slightly more haphazard manner. The U.S. Constitution was upheld, laws were revised as required for our new living situation, new laws were created.

  But it didn’t last. It couldn’t last.

  Things were too different. People were too scared. There was too much chaos.

  More structure was required.

  The first Nailin was elected to president in 126 PM. His name was Wilfred Nailin. He was my great-great (and a lot more greats) grandfather. At that point elections were still held regularly. Congress decided that given the state of America, elections should be held every five years instead of four, with the opportunity for reelection after the first term. But Wilfred wasn’t satisfied with ten years in power, so after his first reelection he pushed a new law through Congress that allowed for a third presidential term, but only if supported by the people, of course.

  There were rumors of ballot-rigging.

  After his second reelection, he passed a law that allowed him to remain in power indefinitely, assuming he obtained approval from Congress every five years. At the same time he passed a law that also permitted Senators and Representatives to maintain their elected positions indefinitely, unless the president released them from service. It was a circular system, one where bribery and deep pockets ruled. Who you knew meant much more than what you knew.

  The people had lost their voice.

  That wasn’t the end of it.

  Wilfred’s next move was to secure his family’s future. He had one son, Edward Nailin. With the full support of Congress, Wilfred managed to pass a law that allowed positions to be handed down from generation to generation within each family, so long as Congress and the president unanimously approved it. Public elections continued to be held, but they were fixed so that no new contenders could infiltrate the inner circle of the government, which was holding all the cards.

  It worked for a while. In fact, people seemed to like the more rigid and consistent structure. Soon, however, the gap started to widen between the classes. The wealthy began to take more and more liberties, much to the middle and lower classes’ frustration. The complaints started pouring in from those who were being disadvantaged, but they were largely ignored. It got to the point where fights were breaking out in the streets. “Elected” officials couldn’t walk down the street without being accosted by the poor and depressed. Something had to be done!

  The Tri-Realms were created from 215 PM to 255 PM. First the Moon Realm was excavated, using the advancements in mining technology to create massive caverns deep beneath the original caverns, to build more cities in. Natural caves were used as a starting point, widened and heightened to the extensive size required to house thousands of people. Heavy beams of rock were used to support the caverns’ roofs, which were prone to cave-ins. Middle and lower class citizens were used to do the work, having been convinced by large salaries and the opportunity to “advance our civilization for the good of humankind.”

  Once the caverns were complete, the workers were forced to take their families to live in them. Then the work on the Star Realm began, digging even deeper below the earth’s surface. Fewer resources were allocated to excavating the Star Realm, and therefore, the caverns were smaller, more confined, more densely populated. The poorest citizens were sent to live in the deepest caverns.

  The top level was given the name of the Sun Realm.

  Each of the Tri-Realms was split up into eight chapters, and each chapter into between two and six subchapters depending on its size, each of which was populated by between ten and a hundred thousand people.

  Over time, taxes were increased annually for the moon and Star Dwellers, as those living in the Moon and Star Realms were called, until the Sun Realm was receiving significant resources to improve their own caverns. Life was good for the Sun Dwellers. Unfortunately, it wasn’t for anyone else.

  The U.S. Constitution was legally abolished in 302 PM.

  A Nailin has been in power for more than 350 years.

  My father told my brother and me the whole story when we turned twelve. I still remember the smug smile on his face when he finished. He’s proud of what Wilfred accomplished.

  I’m disgusted by it. Sometimes I think about it, and it makes me sick. Like now, lying in bed and wishing my mother was still around. I don’t know why I’m thinking about history right now, but I am.

  Chapter One

  Adele

  Present day

  Something’s happening to my body. There’s a dull ache in my skull and ripples of energy coursing down my spine. It all started when I saw him. I know I should hate him—everyone else around me does.

  “Filthy mutt,” I hear one guy growl. “He should’ve stayed above.”

  “Yeah,” another guy says. “I’m surprised he’s gettin’ his shoes dirty down ’ere with the rats.”

  I’m sitting in the Yard. The Yard is what we call the expansive area outside the Pen’s main building, although I don’t know who came up with the name, because it makes no sense. There’s no yard, just barren rock. Real yards—with grass, bushes, and trees—are magical places that don’t exist in our world.

  The high fence surrounding the prison buzzes with electricity and threatens us with barbed wire. Through the fence we can see our town, subchapter 14 of the Moon Realm. And the non-prisoners can also see us, the convicted.

  Even as I stare at freedom through the fence, the feeling gets stronger, like a tingling in the back of my scalp; but it really hurts, too—achy and throbbing. I feel…I feel drawn to him, in the most painful of ways. Now wait just a minute before you judge me, it’s not love at first sight if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s something else entirely, but I don’t have a name for it. I’d like to think it’s magic, like in the illegal fantasy books my grandmother used to read me, but there’s no magic in the dark, underground world we live in. Nothing but rocks and electrified fences and pain.

  The parade passes the Pen, just outside the fence, so close, making all kinds of noise: people cheering, drums thumping, dogs barking.

  An
d Tristan, smiling and waving.

  All the girls in my old school are in love with Tristan. Obviously, none of them know him, but like any male celebrity, he captures the attention of young, naïve females. But I’ve always hated him, because of what he represents.

  Now, stuck in the Pen, it seems like an awfully big waste of energy—to hate the son of the president, who I don’t even know. Perhaps if I hadn’t hated him in the past, none of this would’ve happened. Perhaps my family would still be together. Maybe it was bad karma. But no matter how much I try to wish it all away, my past is the zit that you pop, watch bleed, watch heal, only to see poking from your skin again a week later.

  Tristan is the polar opposite of a recurring blemish. Blond, curly hair. Seventeen but already over six feet tall. Strong, solid frame. A princely face. Big, navy blue eyes. An addictive smile, with right-sized lips and ivory teeth. My brain is telling me to stop staring at him, but for some reason I can’t, like the pain coursing down my spine is only tolerable if I continue facing him. He flashes a smile.

  The throbbing grows duller in my head, the buzzing down my spine sharper. My body is telling me something. The pull toward Tristan is getting stronger and more painful. But why?

  There are about a thousand of his adoring fans outside the Pen, lining the streets, screaming his name and throwing flowers at his car. I even see one of them chuck her undergarments at him.

  “You like him, don’t you?” a voice says from behind.

  I turn, unable to stop the look of surprise that blankets my face. A tall, thin girl stands before me. Her strangely white hair is long and straight, reaching all the way to the small of her back. She has porcelain features, as if her face was drawn on by an artist. I can’t help wondering what a beautiful girl like her is doing in a place like this.