Caitlin Lambert - What Lies Above

WHAT LIES ABOVE

Copyright 2021 by Caitlin Lambert

A ll rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

T his book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

F or information contact :

Caitlin Lambert

www.caitlinlambertbooks.com

B ook and Cover design by Caitlin Lambert

I SBN: 978-1-7365045-2-9

For the One who makes me free.

Get Behind-the-Scenes Access

To get exclusive content and publishing updates,

or to sign up for Caitlins newsletter, visit

www.caitlinlambertbooks.com

Authors Note About Disability Representation

T his book contains representation of a physical disability. I firmly believe that disabled people should be the first to tell their own stories, and that more authors with disabilities should be given spaces to tell them in publishing. As an able-bodied author, I wanted to say a few things. First, Jesss character is just one story. If you have met one person with a disability, you have met one person with a disability. The struggles and experiences Jess has are not universal. In order to write her, I did extensive research, watched videos and read articles by disabled people, and personally talked to people who live with disabilities. Some people said that if they had the chance to be cured, they would. Others said that their disabilities were a part of them, and they would not change them, even if they had the chance to. I share this to illustrate how different each person can be. Jess is only one person. Her story will not match all disabled stories. Although I will always advocate for disabled people telling their own stories, I also believe in diversity in character abilities. Jess is a hero in this story, not because of or in spite of her disability, but because of her strength in character. I have heard many disabled people say that they are not inspirations... they are just people. They can do inspiring things, but they are not inspirational simply for existing. Jess is not strong for being alive. Shes strong because of her heart and her mind and her actions. What she feels at any point in her story, especially the low points, does not reflect my personal views on disability. Disabled people do not need to be cured. As Eli says at one point in the book, Jess doesnt need to change. The world does. We need to focus on curing and changing ableism, not disability.

CHAPTER 1

EVA

T hey say that on the Surface, the sky is blue.

Not the deep, swirling blue of shadows or Night. Bright and flawless, like Amaras eyes. I imagine the darkness above me rolling back, the vaulted cavern splitting open and endless blue pouring in. I imagine a sky.

The thought is thrilling, but after a few seconds, shadows begin to creep in, darkening that blue. Pulling me back to the Grid and the dust and the darkness. Its an honor to live in this darkness, and I should be grateful. Its an honor to give our lives to Sub-terra. To the Government. To our people. And honor is always heroic...

Until it steals someone you love.

Before the week is done, there is a one in twelve chance I will lose the closest thing to a sister I have ever had, all at the hands of honor. Those odds are slim, Mother says, but the best and brightest are always chosen. And Amara is brilliant.

I feel it in the little moments Aaden and I spend together. The tension is coiled in his body like a spring, tightening with every passing day. He wears pain well, but I know the thought of his sister being ripped away from him keeps him up at night.

I let the panic writhe slow and heavy in my chest. It is a feeling I know well. A gut-wrenching dread that the Elect and their families feel every year. I survived it four years ago, when Aaden was Elected as a Guard. And then again three years ago, when both Lydia and I endured the excruciating moments when our entire lives would be decided in one word. Both of us escaped it, me as a Cultivator and her as a Nurturer.

An honor, an honor, an honor...

Those words have echoed like the strike of a hammer in my mind, endless over the last few weeks as the day creeps closer. It is an honor, to be chosen. But for all my obedience and loyalty to the Government, my ferociously selfish heart knows... if Amara is chosen, the pain Aaden and I will carry might just break us.

One in twelve. The odds are on her side, but Amara has always had a way of defying the odds. The nightmares have played out every scenario of her Election, and I see her again and again, being chosen as a Government Worker. Being escorted away behind metal doors that never reopen, her memory vanished from every mind except the people that mourn her. I have seen people mourn death. I have seen bodies carted away, deep into the dark snaking tunnels to the crypts. Tunnels barred by guards, like every other way out.

I asked Aaden once, what would happen if someone ever tried to escape. He didnt like that word... escape. It made us sound like prisoners.

The guards at the tunnels know me. Not my face, but my presence. I am a shadow flickering across buildings, always lingering just behind the light, beyond recognition.

Even now, that darkness falls like a blanket above me, pressing down with the familiar weight of shadows. Burned red in the light above each doorway, the sandstone compounds are completely silent as they crouch in the shadows. During this time of day, the Grid has spilled its inhabitants, to the Labs and the snaking underground tunnels of the Electricians compound. To the tunnel leading out. I walk in the center of the road, where the halos from the compounds lining the street merge. Somewhere above me, through the darkness, the cavern walls slope up into a dome ceiling. The light from below is never bright enough to reach that high. Its fingers stretch up, yet can never touch the cool rock at the caverns crest.