Area 9
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Apr 3, 2018
Elizabeth Rey, a girl born to die. Her future actions wouldn't be what labeled her, it would be the 9 on her wrist that stuck her with the title "dangerous", with the title "insane", and with "good riddance" written across her forehead with bold, uppercase letters. The number fades throughout the years after it is given, but it lasts long enough to determine one's fate. Mr. and Mrs. Rey would've had to live with an unimaginable loss if it weren't for a tight bond with Doctor Arvelle, whom saved Eliza's life and restored the hope of her parents. Her seventh birthday came quickly. Too quickly, and the family was forced apart. Eliza's cold tears froze on her skin in the awfully cool night, but as she was taken further away from her parents and the needle cut her skin- she began to forget whom she was crying for and whom she was longing for. Her past turned into nothing but a far away, vacant memory that only showed up rarely. She was on her own. Alive, but on her own. **Full Synopsis in book HIGHEST RANKING: #164 in Science Fiction
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#8
teensurvival
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Elodie's life changes at the turn of a doorknob when she is forced into joining a secret organization that claims to be protecting the Earth from aliens. But with every step she takes, she finds the organization, or the facility, as they call it, becoming more and more suspicious. When a mysterious death occurs, revealing a well-concealed secret, things quickly go downhill as humanity's future is placed on the shoulders of a single gaggle of teenagers. *** I hear a sigh from the other side of the door, "Miss. Chaucer, you have a wonderful opportunity here, are you going to take it or not?" Now, I am seriously confused, "Opportunity?" She takes advantage of my befuddled state and shoves the door open. Shit. The corners of her mouth pull up, and it's so unnatural, it takes me a moment to realize she's smiling. Major plastic surgery? Probably. Click. Did she just lock the door? She locked the door! I spring towards the house phone, dusty from years of doing absolutely nothing, so I can call the police. I don't make it. Halfway there, I trip on my own pant-leg and face plant on the floor. The woman steps over me and retrieves the phone. She looks at it as if it's a foreign object, "This won't be necessary. All I want to do is talk to you." For some reason, instead of screaming, I stay silent. She smiles and pulls out a chair from the kitchen table for me to sit on. When I don't sit, she says, "If you want to know what's going on, then sit." I think about it for a moment. She hasn't hurt me yet, and I have to admit, I am quite curious as to what's going on. So, call me stupid, but I sit down. "I am from a space organization that protects civilians from . . . outside threats." *** Beautiful cover made by @mahana258! HR: 203 in science fiction (5/8/18) Completed on August 15th, 2018 (Indian independence day!) *******This is not a zombie novel

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