July eighteenth, five-thousand and twenty-three AD changed Chance Hastings life forever. His view of the world had irrevocably been altered for evermore. A bloody rude shock to the system when he found out humans weren’t the only intelligent race inhabiting in the universe. He wasn’t even sure he meant aliens—as by all rights and reasoning they didn’t exist—or so he’d always been taught thought his life. Hell, who was he kidding? The strangers flooding into city all over the world were real honest-to-god aliens. The word passed from human to human was they’d come to take over the world and turn the human populace all into mindless slaves. Others were saying the aliens had come to wipe everyone off of the face of the earth so they could claim it for themselves.
Chance was in the group who believed the latter explanation. So far from what he’d seen the newfound alien race were the shoot first and ask questions never kind of people. Chance sat against the side wall of Guardian Lowell’s residence and took in the destruction around him. Trying to come to grips with what he’d found. Inside the mansion the Lowell family had been slaughtered. And by the decomposition they’d been murdered a couple of weeks ago—if not longer. Deep down Chance knew if his first Guardian had still been alive they would have helped Chance if they could. Guardian Lowell had been one of the few Guardians who had actually liked Chance and his siblings. The whole Lowell family had treated them as one of their own rather than the wards they were.
Chance’s mind wandered over the past as he thought about how much their world had changed with each passing century. Once there had only been the Earth. Now there were interconnecting cities above the earth. Great cities each joined to the other via an endless corridors of housing. In the cities the wealthy thrived and the area’s joining each city was were the poorer citizens resided and they were known as Bridgers. Chance had preferred his quadrant of the world than the city dwellers. The one strange thing he’d seen was there were no imperfect people in the upper world. It had taken a long time for him to understand why and then, it was only through overhearing his guardians talking that he realised anyone born less than perfect weren’t tolerated. Imperfect people were taken to the lower world and left to defend themselves as best they could. Chance didn’t know how long the two worlds had been separated, or even why.
All he knew for sure was that it had been done way before he had been born. He’d learnt since the day he’d eaves dropped on the conversation how those in charge at the time the worlds separated chose who went up and who stayed behind, and the decisions weren’t done fairly. The rich were given preference. All criminals, the disabled, and the dirt poor people were left behind to fend for themselves. Families were torn apart. People weren’t even given the choice of remaining with their family on the surface. They were just rounded up and taken up to the shining new city to live.
Sometime Chance had to wonder why he, Faith, and Maven had been up in the city and not on the surface. They were orphans, or so they’d been told over the years by their guardians. It was odd for the three siblings to be allowed to stay together. Faith had believed there was something special about the three of them. Most people treated them with respect. That was until seven years ago when they had been transferred to their latest guardians. Something had changed and in the middle of the night they’d been woken and been shipped out of the inner cities to live among the upper-class of the poorer citizens. Going from the life of luxury to being a Bridger had been a blessing in some ways. He no longer had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Luckily Faith had been like minded. A week after they had joined Guardian Kremmer’s family he and Faith woke up to find Maven missing, and the Kremmer’s weren’t answering any of their questions about where he was. Seven years had passed since then and the reality was it didn’t even matter. Right now it looked like they wouldn’t survive until the end of the week. Chance knew if he was going to die then he was going to go out fighting.
Chance stilled as a small craft flew by overhead. If he didn’t move than maybe they would assume he was dead. At least he hoped they would. From the pattern of their flight he surmised they were looking for something, or maybe someone.
Well, they aren’t going to get me. Not now—not ever.