Behind the high-rising walls of Southern Guard, a fortified city built to protect its citizens from a catastrophic pandemic disease, Darvin Flint is graduating from his youth military regimen. Unable to escape the childhood trauma of his sisterâs infection and abduction, Darvin is determined to uncover the thirteen-year-old mystery behind his sisterâs disappearance as he leaves his family for special ops training in the capital city of New Province.
After a routine operatives mission turns disastrous, Darvin and his best friend, Merrin, discover just how little they knew about the world outside the sheltered walls of Southern Guard. From the impoverished slums of The Black Valley to the secret biotech research institutions of the Revelation Territory, Darvin must find the courage to unearth the supernatural secrets of the world he thought he knew as the mystery behind his sisterâs disappearance unravels into something much larger than he could have ever imagined.
Behind the high-rising walls of Southern Guard, a fortified city built to protect its citizens from a catastrophic pandemic disease, Darvin Flint is graduating from his youth military regimen. Unable to escape the childhood trauma of his sisterâs infection and abduction, Darvin is determined to uncover the thirteen-year-old mystery behind his sisterâs disappearance as he leaves his family for special ops training in the capital city of New Province.
After a routine operatives mission turns disastrous, Darvin and his best friend, Merrin, discover just how little they knew about the world outside the sheltered walls of Southern Guard. From the impoverished slums of The Black Valley to the secret biotech research institutions of the Revelation Territory, Darvin must find the courage to unearth the supernatural secrets of the world he thought he knew as the mystery behind his sisterâs disappearance unravels into something much larger than he could have ever imagined.
Thirteen years ago
The contamination sirens wailed throughout every corner of Southern Guardâs fortified cityscape. The concrete facades of the many homes lining the top of the Outer Wall only amplified the deep wailing alarms that pushed into my ears. Dad ran to the closest of our two living room windows and scanned the gray streets as people hastily scattered back to the safety of their homes.
âCara!â Dad yelled, calling for Mom as he closed both of the blinds, shutting out what little light strained inside through the dark afternoon clouds.
Mom hurriedly rushed into the living room from the hallway. Dad turned on the lamp beside me, then picked up one of the toys Iâd dropped on the floor and sat it in my lap.
âWhere is Ruma?â Mom asked shakily.
âShe hasnât made it back. Try calling her,â he suggested, and Mom quickly returned to her bedroom to grab her holophone.
âItâll be okay,â Dad said, trying to console me as he gently laid his hand on my head. âWhy donât you keep playing?â
The toys I had received on my fifth birthday just a few days prior sat strewn over the couch around me. The relentless droning of the sirens kept me frozen in place.
âErwyn, sheâs not answering,â Mom said frantically, reentering the room.
âIâll go look for her,â Dad said, throwing on his coat.
âTheyâll arrest you for not sheltering in place,â Mom countered, grabbing his arm.
Without warning, my thirteen-year-old sister, Ruma, smeared with blood, burst through our front door.
âPlease, help me!â she yelled as she threw the door shut and activated the security lock.
I pulled one of the couch pillows close to my stomach and clenched it with my fists. Ruma flung off her jacket and her trembling hands hung suspended in front of her body as if held by strings. Her gray undershirt, still wet from deep-red bloodstains, stuck to her skin.
âRuma! Whatâs wrong?â Mom cried.
Dad rushed quickly toward Ruma, asking, âWhat happened? What happened?â
âStop! Donât touch me,â Ruma commanded, backing hard against the front door.
Dad took another step closer, and Ruma shouted, âDonât touch me! I might be infected.â Her hands shook by her side as she stood stiffly in place.
âWhat are you talking about?â Dad asked, his voice matching Rumaâs panic.Â
 As Ruma looked down at her stained clothes, her eyes seemed to freeze in place. For a moment, no one moved, except for Mom, who carefully reached from behind the couch, lifted me over the cushions, and set me down behind her.
Before that day, Iâd only heard my parents mention perducorium a handful of times, usually when Ruma complained about not being able to travel beyond the Outer Wall. I struggled to pronounce the word, but I knew it was dangerous.
 âRuma, breathe. Just breathe,â Mom said as soothingly as she could while squeezing my arm tightly.
âListen to me,â Dad said, trying to subdue his angst. âI need to know if youâre hurt.â
âNo. I mean, I donât know. Salom rode in from the tracking line, and he was covered in blood. So I helped him. I had to.â
âWhy was he covered in blood?â Dad asked, his face heavily wrinkled with concern.
Ruma stood stiffly in place as her lips stumbled over incoherent words.
âItâll be okay,â Mom reassured Ruma. Her grip was hurting my arm, but I was too afraid to say anything, peering from behind her shirt.
Ruma struggled to get the words out between shuddered breaths. âIt was⌠He said it was a Stone.â
           Dad shook his head, and Mom kept saying âno, no, noâ over and over again.
âI-I donât understand,â Dad stammered. âHow did you make it past the perducorium scanners? You canâtââ
âWe didnât,â Ruma said. âSalom broke in through the emergency tunnels behind the stables, and we snuck in through the Outer Wall.â
âWhere is he?â Dad questioned.
âWhen we heard the sirens, he told me to leave him and get home,â she said as tears slid from her eyes. âTheyâre going to take us away,â she cried.
âYou donât know that,â Dad said hollowly.
âItâs okay, baby,â Mom whispered, softening her grip on me as she gently shushed Ruma. âLetâs calm down.â
âItâs not okay!â Ruma fired back. âTheyâll take us all.â Dad moved closer, and Ruma screamed, âStay away!â
âKeep your voice down,â Dad demanded.
           All three were silent except for Rumaâs heavy breathing.
âI have to get this off,â she whispered softly, taking off her bloody jacket.
âWe need to get you cleaned up,â Dad said.
Mom carried me to the far side of the living room. I held her tightly so she wouldnât let me go. Ruma cautiously moved across the living room toward the hallway bathroom.
Before she turned the living room corner, a heavy blow struck the front door. I screamed, and we all stood paralyzed by the voice demanding we open the door.
âWhat do I do?â Ruma quietly pleaded for an answer neither Mom nor Dad could give.
Seconds later, the door was slung open as at least a dozen agents from the Perducorium Removal Agency invaded our home. The agentsâ defensive gear, concealing every inch of their bodies, made them appear more like robots. A few distinct red bands around their arms and legs lined the metallic-gray exterior of their protective gear.
Mom sobbed, reaching out one hand in protest as one of the agents aimed a gun at Ruma. He fired. Ruma shrieked as a small wire from the head of the gun embedded itself in her back.
âNo!â Mom screamed as she clutched me close in her arms.
Ruma suddenly went stiff, like they turned her into a statue. As she fell to the floor, Ruma gashed her forehead open on the wooden end table my momâs father had made.
Her body thudded against the ground. Dad dove toward Rumaâs side, and an agent flung him into the wall, shattering a few of our family pictures. Dad fought back, tackling that agent to the ground before he, too, went stiff from the wire gun. They braced his arms and dragged him out the front door, where I couldnât see him. Mom slumped to the floor as I cried in her lap. Two nearly identical agents lurched toward us and grabbed Momâs arms, prying me away from her. I saw my face reflected in the mirror of their helmets.
âDonât take my son! Please. Heâs my baby!â she screamed as they carried us outside to the eerily empty streets lining the top of the outer wall.
âItâs okay, baby,â a gentle voice said from behind the helmet. âWeâre here to help.â I cried as she loosely carried me in her arms.
A moment later, another pair of hands pulled me from her and carried me along with my parents. No neighbors were outside, but curious and fearful faces filled the windows lining both sides of the streets. I couldnât see Ruma, but I heard one of the agents say, âHer reading is positive.â
âDarvin!â Mom sobbed as they escorted her toward a strange van that might have been an ambulance. âGive me my son. Darvin!â Mom fought to free herself from the agents.
My body wouldnât move. In a moment, I watched PRA agents shove my parents and Ruma in the backs of the strange vehicles. They drove away in opposite directions. I was loaded into a smaller car with two other children; both wore oxygen masks and looked frozen like me. They sat encased in clear chambers like unopened collectorâs toys.
A young woman in a skin-tight white suit pointed at me. âWhatâs the childâs name?â
âDoes it matter?â one of the agents responded.
âYes. For now,â she said flatly.
As another woman fastened me to the seat in my own strange container, my heavy breathing fogged her helmetâs visor with a tiny cloud. After closing me inside the chamber, she shook her hands as if sheâd just taken out a rotten bag of trash.
Someone with a droning voice said my parentsâ names and address, followed by words I couldnât understand. The woman in white grabbed my arm forcefully. Before I could resist, she stuck a thick needle in my arm with one gloved hand while she glared at a nearby medical monitor.
âDarvin Flint. Letâs hope weâre not three for three.â
I found this to be an enjoyable read in a limited sense. The main character is intimately real to us, and his motivation and reactions are realistic and engaging. However, there is an unfortunate reliance on one conflict area typical of YA fiction that undermines the suspense, leaving us with a reduced level of commitment to the story.
There is a lot of exposition in the beginning, but the setting descriptions are evocative and the social setting details are interesting enough to carry our interest through. The setting is a standard post-apocalyptic society, an island of high tech in a sea of wilderness populated by the deformed results of the pandemic that destroyed civilization. As the plot usually goes, the main character is sent out on a patrol that goes horribly wrong, leaving him stranded in a world that is far more complex than his restricted upbringing has prepared him for.
However, thatâs as far as the âstandardâ goes. Rather than a constant barrage of extreme action that we might expect next, the author takes us to the conflicts within the main characterâs mind. We are intimately exposed to his smaller fears and desires. At first, this makes the action seem slow, but as the pace of the story picks up, we get used to being exposed to his reactions to everything and take more and more interest in him as a person.
The problem with the story is the standard theme that attracts many young readers to these novels; âThey never tell me anything.â An overdependence on this conflict-creating technique has unfortunate side effects.
The plotline dictates that the mysterious characters driving the action do not tell the main character and his friends anything about what is going on. Fair enough. But this means that the reader is also kept from knowing anything, and, more important, being able to predict what might happen next, a key element in creating suspense.
So when the main character ends yet another battle against unknown adversaries by being rendered unconscious, and wakes up yet again strapped to a hospital bed with tubes attached to every vein, after a while we begin to lose the sense that anybody in the story is in control of anything, and thus we are thrown back to depending on the author for everything. This, in turn, reminds us of the fact that there is an author controlling our experience, and reduces further our connection with the story.
However, near the end, the action picks up and we start learning enough about whatâs going on to enjoy the storyline. There is a fairly satisfying ending, tying up enough of the plot strings for the readerâs satisfaction, but leaving a few serious ones dangling to attract us to the sequel.