Justin - Chapter One
by Machelli
Prologue
Okey dokey. There are a few things in this story that are common knowledge to the characters within it.
The tale takes place in the future. Of course, the people in the story are not aware of this, per se; they consider the time in which the story takes place to be their present but to us it is the future.
West America seceded from the "Union" - so to speak - because of the restrictions on weapons that almost every country had agreed to at that point. West America's stance - which is shared by a few other countries, as well - is that the notion of such wide-spread "gun control" should not even be considered. The problem, though, is that many nations have agreed to abide by the restriction, which makes things rather tense for West America and the others who have not.
To sum it up, West and East America are not too fond of each other and the manufacturing of weapons is strictly forbidden. That's the current status of the World in which Justin lives – just as screwy as our own, if not more so.
The point is that, like our current situation, the world in which this story takes place is rife with several problems. Any other differences from the present day will be revealed as the characters discover them.
Machelli
1
It was quiet. Of course, that was to be expected at five o'clock in the morning. The small neighborhood with its cozy little houses was still collectively asleep. The streetlights were on and the horizon was cloaked in the purplish darkness of dawn. And there amongst all of this peacefulness stood a fourteen-year-old boy.
Justin was standing alone at the end of his house's driveway as he stared at the street that wound its way through the neighborhood. Next to him were three large suitcases, as if he were waiting patiently for a plane to land and take him and his belongings to another world altogether. But instead of a plane, a sleek, black car could be seen maneuvering itself along the twisted madman's creation that was the road. As it wound its way around the houses, its shape could be distinguished more easily. Its glossy, black finish distorted the reflection of the streetlights and the sound of the engine, however subtle, grew louder.
It was a limousine. Justin bent over and picked up one of his three enormous pieces of luggage, relieved with the arrival of the car which he had waited for since four thirty. The vehicle came to a halt in front of Justin. The sudden cut-off of the engine made the silence of the neighborhood even quieter in contrast. Then, with a miniscule click, the trunk popped open. Justin lifted the suitcase with obvious strain and set it down with a thud in the cargo space. After doing the same with the other two, Justin closed the trunk and stepped around the limousine to the back seat. He opened the door and got in, the seat enveloping him with its surprisingly soft material. The engine started up again and the vehicle moved forward. Justin twisted around in his seat and looked out of the tinted window in the back. He saw his house slowly recede behind them until it was lost behind another home when the car swiveled around a curve in the road. He couldn't help but think about all that he was leaving behind and the image of his house disappearing did nothing to improve his mood.
Justin knew he wouldn't see Jeff again; that was a definite. Jeffery D'neb was his best friend in middle school. Jeff had helped Justin learn to play sports and Justin had helped Jeff with homework and other things that Jeff had trouble with. Justin realized that he never appreciated the importance of a friend like Jeff until it was taken away from him. He felt sorry for not saying good bye to Jeff in person but the phone call had been so sudden he hadn't known what to do.
He was doing homework in his room; a baby sitter was downstairs because his mom was over-seas on a business trip. Justin had just finished his Math homework and was moving on to Science when the phone rang. He picked it up before the baby sitter had even made an effort. He figured it was his Mom calling him because she usually called on Thursdays and it was Friday now. She hadn't called on Thursday so Justin thought she had forgotten and was calling from the plane back to America to apologize. It wasn't his Mom though; it was a World Flights Airline representative calling. They inquired whether his last name was Evarb, which it was and Justin said so. They asked him about relatives or the other parent being there at home. Justin replied that he didn't live with any relatives or his Father, he lived with his Mom. There was an odd silence on the other end of the line and Justin wondered if he had been cut off. But as it turned out, the representative was just trying to figure out a less harmful way to tell Justin the worst news he could possibly hear.
The funeral was next Friday. Hundreds of thousands of relatives came, some of which Justin had never seen before. They were all there to say goodbye to Elizabeth Evarb, Justin's mother. They said it had happened over the Ocean in mid-flight. The plane had inexplicably lost power and simply plummeted into the Atlantic. Justin couldn't think of a worse fate. Hitting the water and knowing that if you didn't die in the crash you would surely die with the onslaught of water that came soon after. He wondered what it would be like to be lying back in the chair, reading a book perhaps, and then noticing a change in direction. It would be subtle at first, but then it would increase in momentum and you would be pushed back and up into your seat. And maybe, if you were lucky enough to get a window seat on the flight, you could just barely move your head enough to see the dark blue, pulsating water rushing up to meet you, as if anticipating your arrival.
The car hit a bump and Justin snapped back to reality. Slightly disoriented, he peered out the window at the blurred road. He sat back down in his seat and looked at the tinted glass that separated him from the driver. He suddenly felt a need to talk to someone, to say something to fill the eerie silence. He looked around for a button to bring the glass down; he found it on the armrest and pressed it. He had to say something, even if it was just a simple question. The tinted window lowered itself with a mechanical whirring sound, revealing the rearview mirror and the windshield.
"Is something the matter?" The driver asked without even turning around.
"No," said Justin, which was an obvious lie, there had been something the matter with this whole thing but he didn't voice that feeling. Instead he continued, "I was wondering how far away the airport is."
This time the driver turned his head ever so slightly before saying, "it shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes now, sir."
"Thank you," Justin replied, and the tinted glass rose back up with the same mechanical whir as before. At least the silence had been dealt with, Justin thought. And with that, he fell asleep.
***
"Excuse me, but you'll have to wake up now," the voice of the driver cut through Justin's black haze that had substituted for dreams.
The sound of an engine rumbled somewhere to his left, muted by the sound proofing of the car. Justin's eyes slowly opened and he sat upright, unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door. He stepped out of the car only to be blasted by what he had thought to be a distant engine. The sound came from a small jet plane not too far from him on the runway that the car had parked on. As Justin stood up, he saw the last of his luggage being loaded into the cargo area of the plane. He could just make out the image of the pilot and co-pilot in the cockpit. Apparently they were waiting for him. On the side of the plane in big red letters were the words: "Evarb Production Plants." With stiff legs he walked toward the steps that led to the open door of the jet plane. The engine was now almost painfully loud and he had to put his hands over his ears as he walked up the narrow steps. He imagined what a sight he must be – a fourteen-year-old boy walking up comically narrow stairs with his elbows sticking out in the air. Once he was inside of the plane, he noticed that there were no other passengers other than him. Also, the seats weren't nearly as small as a regular plane. In fact, they were about the size of a reclining chair and instead of facing the cockpit they were facing the window opposite to them. At first he thought this was odd but he realized that the "Evarb production plant" stenciled on the outside must have meant that this was a private jet. The stewardess pulled up the stairs, pushed them off to the side, and closed the door tightly. The sound of the door slamming shut reverberated briefly throughout the plane and Justin took it to mean that no matter what he did now, he could not go back. He was saying good-bye forever to all of his friends – goodbye to the familiar and hello to the unfamiliar.
His Father lived in that place; the unfamiliar world that he had never visited called West America. He was in East America now, or more specifically in Connecticut. This was the only place he knew. Justin doubted that he ever traveled much and, when he had, he barely even went out of the state. The whole place would be different, the whole experience terrifying and yet exciting.
The engines fired. The sound and sudden movement startled Justin, and in response he quickly buckled his seat belt. He looked out the window at the scenery that was whizzing passed him. Suddenly the plane lifted up, off of the ground and Justin almost screamed in protest. As if by reflex, he grasped the arm rests as if they were the only things keeping him in his seat. The feeling of it was too much for him and he thought that he wouldn't make it, that he would throw up. He looked around for something to use but the effort was a wasted one. Just when he thought the inevitable would occur, the plane leveled out. Justin relaxed and eased his grip on the armrests. He realized he had been holding in his breath and he let it out now with a deep whistling sound.
As he sat in his seat, waiting for the next traumatic event to take place, the "fasten seat belt," sign disappeared with a bell-like tone. He unbuckled his seat belt and twisted around in his seat so he could look out the window. They were above the clouds now, which was a peculiar sight to Justin. The clouds were almost flat like the land beneath them – a gray sheet, spreading onward to infinity. He hoped that the clouds would eventually go away so he could see the ground; Justin didn't care for the infinite, monotone slate that he saw now.
As Justin came away from the window he reclined his chair and sat back. He wondered if his Father was wealthy. He had to be to be able to afford the limo and the private jet. The thought stirred an interesting feeling inside of Justin, a cross between anxious and excited. He wondered what it would be like to suddenly live with such affluence. The differences in behavior would be amazingly drastic. With thoughts of his future life Justin fell asleep, gazing out the window at the clouds in the sky.
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