The Wall Between Our Worlds

Chapter One (Part One)

As the A-flyer plummeted toward the ground, three thoughts raced through Trep's mind:

I'm going to die.

I hope the Flight Alliance takes care of my family.

I'm going to do my best not to die.

A few minutes before that, Trep had been thinking of nothing but the spectacle of color in front of him.

Trep couldn't get enough of sunrises, especially when he was flying a mission over the East. On a clear morning, as the sun climbed across the Eastern sky, it made the Great Divide glow golden—and a million other colors as well. Surreal iridescence painted the wall of energy that divided Terrana in half.

As one of only a handful of pilots who flew missions over the East, Trep was privileged to see the sunrise from the planet's wilder hemisphere. The colors blanketed the thick forest below him, creating a soft ocean of gold and green that came straight out of a high-budget movie. Most of the time, it was easy to see through the transparent Divide to the urban landscape in the West, but at this time of day only the vague outlines of giant buildings were visible. They towered beyond the energy barrier, monsters in the golden mist.

Trep preferred to enjoy the sunrise in silence, so he turned off as many systems in his A-flyer as he could without compromising his safety. He turned off the noisy primary engines and used the stored solar power that was just enough to keep the flyer stationary. He deactivated almost all of the sensors, and he wiped away the display icons that adorned the flyer's front shield.

Only one thing would have made the sunrise any more tranquil, any more captivating—air. The flyer had a sophisticated filtration system that made sure only the cleanest air made it into the pilot's lungs. But it wasn't fresh. Fresh air had subtle smells that were the silent music that accompanied a sight. Fresh air had gentle breezes and a liveliness that was miles away from the sterile air in the flyer.

Alas, Trep would never see a sunrise on the Eastern side of the Divide while he was breathing fresh air.

Because the East and its people—especially its people—were deadly.

Trep leaned back in his chair and let the sunrise entertain him. He snapped a few photos with the camera that he always kept on hand. Even though photography had been his hobby for years and he considered himself an artist, there was no true way to capture the magnificence in front of him.

His mind drifted into the colors in front of him, and he—

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The shrill alarm sliced through the tranquility.

"Primary power system failure," a calm female voice said between the blaring alarms. "Primary power system failure."

What the—

Trep jolted into action. He reached for the controls that would switch the flyer to its secondary power system. He would have enough power to get back to Flight Alliance Headquarters and give a good lecture to whatever idiot had cleared his flyer after its last inspection.

He hit the controls to activate the secondary power system, but the indicator light didn't turn on. Nothing changed except the message from the flyer's speakers.

"Secondary power system failure. Solar power storage at five percent."

Five percent? It should still have at least fifty percent left.

"Primary and secondary power system failure. Solar power storage at three percent. Solar power collection unit failure."

Calm, Trep reminded himself. I only went through a few hundred flight simulations during training. I've been in a falling flyer before, even if it was make believe. I can do this.

He wasn't calm, though. His heart beat in his throat, and the fingers that flew across the control panel shook as if he were about to ask a supermodel to go on a date with him.

He had to land. He had to land, or he was going to fall.

He activated the display panel from which he would control the landing process—and it greeted him with a message in obnoxious red lettering: Descent System Failure.

"Solar power storage at one percent."

Trep had seconds left. He leapt out of the pilot's seat and dashed to the emergency box at the back of the small aircraft. It contained a breathing apparatus that would protect him from the East's air, a communications array, and a fall bubble.

No, it didn't.

The emergency box was empty.

The flyer began to plummet.

I'm going to die.

I hope the Flight Alliance takes care of my family.

I'm going to do my best not to die.

*

1.2

Every sunrise was a promise. It promised new beginnings. It promised that even after the darkest of times, the light always came back. Lately, Krimson had needed all the reminders she could get that the blackness couldn't win. There was always hope, always the chance that a new day could bring new blessings. She clung to that truth because, at the moment, her life was in the middle of a starless, moonless night.

She drank in the sunrise from the boughs of one of her favorite trees, which was among the oldest in her village's territory. Its twisted, elegant branches stretched toward the sky, embracing the crisp autumn air and golden sunlight.

The sun rose behind her, painting the Wall that separated the East from the West, as well as the rest of the world, in iridescent gold tones. The sight, accompanied by the songs of nearby birds, the silent music of the plant life that thrived in the forest, and the subtle scents that danced in the air, was almost powerful enough to make Krimson forget the nightmare she had been hurled into three months ago.

Here, in her spot in the tree, the universe narrowed down to her and the forest and the sunrise. Nothing else.

Except an enormous bird that was tumbling toward the ground.

No, that wasn't a bird.

It was one of the Builders' flying machines. She saw them fly over once in a while; their machines had some sort of technology that made them almost impossible to spot from the ground, but Krimson had learned to discern what the slight shimmer above her meant. Plus, she had seen undisguised flying machines through the Wall. Ghastly, ugly things. But fascinating. What did the world look like from way up there anyway?

This wasn't a slight shimmer, though. This was a large machine falling like a mountain dropped from the clouds.

Krimson stood on her branch and watched the machine's path as it rushed toward its doom.

She hesitated. The Growers had nothing to do with the Builders. She should go tell the Village Elders about what she had seen, and then they could take care of the situation. It was not her business.

But it took hours to walk to the village, and the Builders inside the flying machine might need help.

Besides that, the Village Elders might not want to help the Builders. She guessed that the Chief Elder would choose to have the Builders executed—after he subjected them to the harshest interrogation methods available. Krimson wouldn't wish that on anyone, even on people from the hideous cities that lurked beyond the Wall.

Builders were people, too—even if their ways were drastically different from those of the Growers.

Growers had a responsibility to help others when it was within their power.

Plus, she had always been curious about the Builders...

Krimson made up her mind. She swung down from her tree, jogged to her house to pick up her backpack full of medical supplies, and headed toward the crash site.

***Author's Note***

Thank you so much for reading the beginning of my story! If you love it, let me know, and I will drop you a line after I begin posting it on RNovel.