I Am Alive 2: Increscent

by Cameron Jace

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Epilogue

  I AM ALIVE 2

  I N C R E S C E N T

  Born This Way Series

  by

  Cameron Jace

  Copyright © Cameron Jace 2012.

  All Rights Reserved

  US Copyright Registration Number

  TX 7-525-458

  ISBN-13: 978-1475076509

  ISBN-10: 1475076509

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Note:

  A character previously known as Calla was renamed to Ariadna.

  Re-Edited by Mel Heeny

  Foreword

  by Cameron Jace

  I Am Alive is my first ever published book. If you’ve come this far, then you most probably have read it a few years ago. Written on a whim and without prior experience, I was pleasantly shocked by the number of readers and its overnight success. Over ten thousand downloads in one month for a novel by an unknown dude, if I remember correctly.

  In all honesty, some readers hated it, too.

  It’s not a perfect story. Far from it. With little character development and contradicting storylines at times, it is what it is. My first attempt to write, and my honor to meet all of you.

  And even though the logical thing to do was write a sequel right away, it took forever to happen — almost four years, though it’s been download over 50,000 by now.

  But the sequel never happened.

  Why? Because of the success of The Grimm Diaries, which took off at the speed of light and ended up being my first venture into the Amazon Top 100 bestseller list.

  I Am Alive, being very different in style and substance from The Grimm Diaries — and later the Insanity series — was buried in the back of my mind.

  If I show you the number of emails I receive every week requesting book 2, you’d be amazed at me not publishing it sooner. At some point, I did write a long sequel, full of adventure and action like in book one. But I hated it and will probably never publish it.

  Crazy, right?

  I thought so too. Until one day when I sat writing it from an angle that made sense to me. The trick wasn’t to write another action-packed sequel. It was to develop the wonderful characters from book one!

  Who is Woo? What does Leo do in his life? What are his passions? Do nerdy teens like Vern and Pepper get a chance at life and love? Is Faustina really evil? Why did Decca’s mother really want to kill her? What about her brother and family? What happened to them? What are Xitler’s real motives with the Monster Games? Is he an alien? A human? What really happened in the past? Where is the Rabbit Hole?

  I knew many readers cared to know of Decca’s new choice, a monster or a ten. It’s explained in the first few chapters of this sequel. But to me, I wanted to know her more. I wanted to know about her past with Woo. I wanted to know how she’d grow into a woman.

  This is why I Am Alive 2 isn’t action-packed — though it paints the road for a hell of a ride in further books. It’s is a character study. A glimpse into the lives of the survivors of the Monster Game. How a society treats them, and how they fit in being resurrected from the gutter. And about a serious revelation in the last few sentences, of course :)

  I love this sequel dearly. I hope you will love it, too. It’s a middle ground. A moment to reflect on Decca’s life and choices. That’s why Increscent seemed to be the appropriate name for it. In·cres·cent (ĭn-krĕs′ənt) adj. Showing a progressively larger lighted surface, as of a planet or the moon.

  Decca, in this sequel, is simply becoming the Decca that will change the world…

  Prologue

  Sometime in the near future

  Leo pushes the barrel of the gun against the back of my throat. “Goodbye, Decca.” He says.

  When I try to tongue the barrel into my cheek, he pushes harder, his finger fiddling with the trigger. I am screaming with my eyes, begging him not to kill me. This can’t be how it all ends. This is the worst ending ever.

  “Ten,” He says, not really talking to me. “Ten is for superheroes who stand out and fight for what they believe.”

  I tilt my head as slowly as possible so I can look him in the eyes. The glaring sun behind him is blinding me. All I see of him is a silhouette of the boy who wants to kill me, the boy who once loved me, and I… well… I’m very confused right now.

  How did we end up this way? I thought my life would be way better after winning the tenth Monster Show. Why do good things in life take such a bad turn sometimes?

  “Nine,” He says. “Is for celebrities, icons, and idols who could make this world a better place, but rarely do.”

  He pushes harder. I am choking. My hands are tied to the chair behind my back.

  “Eight,” He says. “Is for TV hosts, talkers, preachers, those who have their voices feeding our ears all day. Those who have a chance to spread the truth but tell us lies instead.”

  I hear faint voices, coming from below. People are screaming at Leo. They are begging him not to kill me, but I am not sure. You can’t make out what people are trying to say when you’re on the rooftop of the highest building in Faya, where the afterlife is an inch away from a barrel of a gun.

  “Seven,” Leo says, “Is for the ordinary, the neutral, and the nerds whose are kind and lovable. Their only fault is that they never stand for what they believe, wishing this life had been better.”

  Leo. What are you saying? I blink repeatedly, trying to send him a message: No, Leo. You don’t have to do this. You got it all wrong. Let’s rewind.

  “Six is for those who shoot their guns at the enemy in the name of the Burning Man without even questioning anything, blinded by their unconditional love for their families. How can children and women die in the name of peace?”

  I have to find a way to get out of this. I have seen worse than this. It’s not the first time someone tried to kill me. I have survived worst. I am the only girl who ever survived the Monster Show. I am a hero, and heroes shouldn’t die.

  “Five is for those who have nothing to say, although they are many and sometimes the most important. They just don’t know how powerful they could be if they united. If they only knew.”

  I can’t interpret if he is looking at me or not. All I see is a wavy tall silhouette. It suddenly occurs to me that this is a countdown from ten to one. But we don’t have ones, twos, three, or fours in Faya. We have Monsters instead, and that’s the last rank left. I have to figure out how to save myself before he shoots me.

  Leo! Wake up! You’re not yourself.

  “Any other number,” He says, “Is for the Monsters,” He stops for a breath, and I see him jerk his wavy head as if the word pulses in his brain. I am waiting for him to say what the Monsters are for. Instead, he says the most appalling words, shattering my existence into pieces, slicing me into petals of the rose I once was, “Decca,” He says with a tone the color of every dead thing. “You have to die. I should have killed you long ago.”

  I don’t move. Every breath I take is tearing my lungs apart. If he sees my fear, he will shoot me. I want to tell him that I don’t have to die, that he got it all wrong, that this is a mistake. But with the barrel of the gun in my mouth, I can only speak in vowels, like birds that hum because they don’t know the words. It might sound musical but it can’t save their lives.

  I hear the others pounding on the metal door leading to the rooftop. They can’t break through.

  “Don’t do it, Leo.” Pepper screams from behind the door.

  But it seems nothing is going to stop Leo from killing me. If they
keep pounding on the door, he will shoot me earlier than expected. I think about kicking him in his knees, but he is a step or two afar. I need him to come closer. Or maybe I should just risk it and kick him anyway. Either I do it first or I die. The hell with love. I am not going to die today!

  When I look back at all the crazy things that happened the last year, since I won the 10th Monster Show, I wonder what went wrong. What was it that led to this moment? Where did it all start slipping away?

  I think it all started last week. It’s strange how so many things can change within a week. How lovers could become enemies, enemies become friends, and how much you can learn about yourself and grow up before your time. I thought that all I needed was to stay alive, but it turns out that staying alive is not enough.

  My mind wanders back a week ago to the moment when I woke up in a bed, not remembering how I got there.

  1

  The Girl with Golden Eyes

  Flip.

  I open my eyes.

  Not Again.

  Who sedated me this time?

  I am lying on my back in a big bed, staring at some white ceiling above me. My eyes hurt like hell when I blink. Focusing through my blurry vision, I see a sign drawn on the ceiling. It’s a Decagon, the national symbol of Faya, ten angles and ten lines with the capital, Sol, in the center.

  Where am I?

  A strange sound distracts me from the sign. I don’t know what it is but I feel something sinister is approaching me.

  I can hardly move my stiffened muscles. When I try harder to sit up, I let out a painful shriek. It echoes against the huge glass windows of the room. My back hurts, my mouth is numb, and I feel as if I just woke up from the dead.

  Please God, let this be a dream. The same way my life felt before removing the receptor from under my ear. Please God, release me from the pain of knowing and opening my eyes to the truth of the world I live in. Let me stay ignorant, a slave to the iAm’s predictions because it seems like I can’t take the truth anymore.

  Wait!

  It’s the sound of water. A lot of water. I feel alert all of a sudden. What’s going on?

  God? Please take that last request back. I am much better with open eyes. I am much better being who I am -- whoever that is -- with all the consequences that follow. Let me face this. I can do it!

  Sitting up against the pain in my body, I inspect the room with my eyes. It looks like some expensive honeymoon suite in a five-star hotel. Everything is fancy and colorful. Big chairs, wavy curtains, and what looks like a big wardrobe. I see caviar on the tray table in front of my bed. Even though I am a chocolate-craving girl, my mouth melts for the caviar… but then my eyes hurt again.

  I lift my hand to rub my eyes which are full of tears. Thick tears that I didn’t cry. They feel like mercury on my fingertips and are the color of gold.

  Golden tears?

  A clock ticks nearby. Its ding in my head reminds me of all the dongs I couldn’t remember seconds ago.

  I remember now. These are not tears. It’s a liquid called Clarine. It’s the ClairVo’s new substitute. The days when the audience needed me to wear the ClairVo to see through my eyes are long gone. Now it’s just a couple of drops of this liquid and we’re connected. It’s the latest technology in Faya. They insert it into my eyes before the show, and it broadcasts everything I see and feel to the audience like when I killed Carnivore. Still, the audience has to wear their ClairVos because the Clarine isn’t compatible with everyone’s eyes. It was invented a year ago, right after I won the 10th Monster Show.

  Even though I can’t see the audience while they’re watching me now, I can picture them in my mind’s eye, sitting home with their popcorn, lazy as ever, bored, purposeless, hungry for entertainment, and seeing through my eyes.

  In the past, I used to be your Monster. The little geek girl who goes into a dark alley and gets killed in every horror film. Now, after winning the Monster Show, I am your new television, your movie of the year, your pain, your happiness, your hero, your anti-hero, your ahhs, your oohs, your fears, your tragic comedy, your aspirations, your faults, and above all your favorite TV show. I am everything you want, more than you could handle. I am more than I can handle. Every new episode, you crave for more of me while I am begging for a season finale, hoping this madness will end so I can go home and get back to my real life.

  The sound of water is getting louder and closer.

  Wake up, Decca. Stop thinking and analyzing. In this world, every second counts. You know that this is broadcasted worldwide. You made the deal with the Summit yourself. Remember?

  As I jump out of bed, my memory refreshes. I remember that I am in a reality show on TV. I signed on for this: Ten dangerous epic episodes per year where I fight for my life as the world watches through my eyes. A deal I made with the Summit to save the Monsters from getting killed. A sacrificial substitute on my behalf in exchange for canceling the Monster Shows forever. A decision I seem to regret every passing day.

  The sound of water gets louder. The walls start to vibrate. Hell. The whole building starts to shake…

  as if a fairytale giant is stomping its large feet outside the window.

  It gets louder, escalating to what sounds like a major catastrophe, but an unreal one. It’s staged by the Summit to entertain the people. I wonder if the day will come when the Summit stages apocalypse.

  Can you stage the end of the world? Sure. Why not? Come to think of it, we’re only two heartbeats away from the end of the world. The second end of the of the world, to be precise.

  I don’t need to get closer to the window to see what’s going on outside. I see it now, not quite believing it. I rub my eyes to make sure I am not dreaming. Water is rising outside the building, and soon it will submerge it.

  It’s a freakin’ flood!

  A staged flood, but one that could kill me. I wonder if Noah had seen anything like that. Should I pick a pair of every living thing with me before the floods submerges the building? Why didn’t Noah pick only animals on board? Why did he bother about humans? Those who can’t get enough of TV. A world of animals and plants would have been just right. Humans suck.

  I remind myself that Noah was tested by God who cared about humanity. I am tested by Faya who seems to care about TV, flashy screens, and big fat money. Too much green and not enough of affection. All in the name of the Burning Man.

  I watch the water rise outside my room. The pressure is forcing the inner walls to bend. The zigzags and cracks in the other windows are spreading like a chronic infection.

  Before I know it, the windows in my room will break and the water will rush inside. I don’t even know which floor of the building I am on.

  There are no iSees or cameras around. I guess my eyes are enough now. The world only needs my eyes. That’s the fun of watching through them. No one cares about Decca. They want to feed on a seventeen-year-old’s pain, angst, and anxiety while she fights for her life.

  Since when did I address myself in the third person? I guess this is how I feel now. So distant from my own self, watching what’s left of me.

  But where is my iAm? Where is the headpiece that allows me to hear the audience’s annoying comments? And why can’t I remember things accurately?

  Stop it, Decca. Fight for your life – and for the Monsters.

  I stretch my muscles, preparing for another silly game. It’s easy like when you wake up in the morning, sit up in bed, stretch your arms, drink your milk, brush your teeth, and then instead of going to school to have fun you simply fight for your life trying to fit in. No big deal. We all do it every day. Some of us survive it, and some of us spend the rest of our lives with a crooked smile on our faces, one that is a result of life punching us in the face.

  But I will not fail. I stare right into the heart of danger while the window cracks open.

  Good morning, Faya!

  The water rushes into the room, turning it into a canned swimming poo
l with floating beds, commodes, vases, and that tray table with food on it.

  Damn. I shoulda tasted that Caviar.

  Looking at the mess around me, I remember my mother. She would have been super mad if this was my room. I used to shove everything in my closet to please her and show how tidy and obedient a girl I was, and then take it out again when she left. It was my room and I should have been able to do what I want with it. Duh. But that was long ago when I used to have a room – and a mother.

  If there is one thing I learned growing up, it’s that I can’t shove water into the closet. I can’t take my fears and cram them away in a box. The only way out of the dark is to walk through it all the way to the light. The thought reminds me of Woo’s favorite song by the Beatles: Follow the Sun.

  Floating next to me, I find my backpack from the previous Monster Show. The memory urges me to feel the cut on my arm, reminding me of killing Carnivore. Somehow, every other wound in my body healed since then. All, but this cut which I had inflicted on myself.

  Before the water rises up to my neck, I open the backpack and pull out my headpiece and iAm. I start swimming, trying to reach the door. Finally, I can hear the nasty crowd of Faya in my ears.

  “Go, Decca!” Enthusiastic Kids and moms scream. “We love you.”

  At least they do love me. They do want to kill me, but they love me. What more can I ask for?

  “No bleep,” I mutter as I paddle to the door, avoiding the floating bed from knocking me over.

  No bleep? Yeah, I forgot to tell you. You can’t swear in the games in Faya anymore. Any cuss words come out as bleep. Another Fayan technology. It makes you wonder about the contradicting moralities of our society. Kids aren’t allowed to cuss but you’re allowed to kill them when they do.