Hunted

CHAPTER ONE

   The sound of the scissors fascinates me. Not just the snipping sound, but the sound it makes as the blades pierce the clump of hair I am ready to depart with.

   The clump of hair falls to the floor and drifts over to the open window, where my hometown lies.

   Los Angeles begins to die down as the sun rises. Mom herself ventures out of her room for the first time today and closes the shutters, locking them.

   She says nothing to me about my new haircut.

   A quick tap at the door sounds. I go and check the door. “What?”

   “Please! Miss! The sun—!”

   “You can’t enter.”

   “Miss! If you don’t let me in, I’ll—”

   “Die? Yes, I know you will.”

   The man’s face begins to bubble up as the sun hits him. He screams in agony and I close the door’s shutter.

   Without any interest in the man’s bloodcurdling screams, I put my ear buds in, sit down on the couch in the family room, and listen to my MP3 player.

~-~

   The year is 2121. Due to nuclear radiation, humans aren’t able to withstand the sun. Scientists have been struggling to determine why. Thousands of tests have been conducted, but they all end in the same result: nothing is wrong. It’s not a sickness; it’s not a new form of cancer or AIDS. It just...happened.

   We have a small government, elected over a hundred years ago by our great-grandfathers, and their descendants have ruled since.

   There’s very few police officers, but crime, due to there not being a “night” anymore, is at an all-time low. Bubble cities are popping up all over America, where no matter what time of the day it is, you’re safe. They’re pretty big, too, each about one hundred square miles each.

   The nearest one to Los Angeles is about six miles away, but Mom is too scared to go to one. She’s too scared to leave the house at all. I’m in charge of the food and the clothes and when the toilet needs to be cleaned.

   I’ve always thought about going myself, but where would Mom be? Besides, I’m only fourteen, and you can only go so far on a hoverboard in the eight hours of night we’re allotted.

~-~

   I must’ve fallen asleep, because when I open my eyes again, the smell of eggs and bacon fill my nostrils. The shutters are open and a fresh breeze is rolling through, even though it’s midnight.

   “Mom?” I ask, clicking STOP on my MP3 player. The hard rock music stops playing and I make my way into the kitchen, where Mom, with her gray blonde hair and her dull blue eyes, is making breakfast.

   “Mom, it’s like, midnight.”

   Mom looks up, still shoveling the eggs into a scrambled mess. “Me? I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be? You weren’t up, you weren’t, you weren’t.”

   “Mom, I think you should go back—”

   “NO!”

   The frying pan, spatula, and eggs all splatter onto the floor around her feet. She stares at me for a second, then collapses to the floor in a fit of tears. “Alice, your hair...it’s all gone...!”

   I kneel down and take my mother’s hands, leading her back to her room as she continues to cry and sob about my sudden lack of hair. “It was so beautiful, Alice! Why...? Why...? Oh, Alice...”