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  THE PLANTATION

  Series

  BOOKS 1 - 3

  Stella Samiotou Fitzsimons

  ©2013 by Stella Samiotou Fitzsimons

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  THE PLANTATION SERIES: BOOKS 1-3

  In a world come to an end, one girl and one ragtag group of teen slaves find each

  other in the dark woods. They plan to make a stand.

  This collection includes the first three books in the Young Adult Dystopian series

  THE PLANTATION.

  Table of Contents

  THE PLANTATION

  THE DARK LEGION

  THE SHADOW EMPIRE

  FROM THE AUTHOR

  THE PLANTATION

  1

  Everywhere I turn, all I see is black. My vision drowns in cascading waves of darkness. I

  tread on something soft and slippery. There’s the smell of sweat and drying mud in the air. I hear distant footsteps marching but I see nothing. That’s good, I think. It means they can’t see me

  either. They don’t know I’m here for them. They have no idea we linger in the shadows, our hearts

  swelling with adrenaline. Even their slaves fear us as they long for our coming. They hear

  whispers of our existence, but they don’t dare believe in us. We are their dark hope. We are

  legend. We are the Saviors.

  “Freya.” I hear my name whispered from afar. “Freya, what are you doing? One plus one plus

  one! Launch the attack now.” Theo’s voice, disturbing and commanding, shakes me out of the dream. I

  have to concentrate on the task at hand. One plus one plus one doesn’t equal three anymore. It equals

  assault and hope. One, I pull the lever to my left. Two, I press the red flashing button in front of me.

  Three, I check the numbers on the upper right hand corner of my virtual goggles.

  One, two, three, go time.

  The attack is launched in an avalanche of thuds and lightning. I find myself in the middle of

  Plantation-9 with at least a dozen weapons pointed at me – mostly tactical pulse rifles, but also two

  shock bows and a KA-1 Plasmer.

  There’s no time to think. I have to act fast. I activate my shield that covers me like a purple aura.

  I pull out my pulse gun and run toward the army green tents. I’m shot once, then twice. One more time

  and the shield will be down. Every shot will count then.

  I take a leap to the left and I duck just in time to avoid a lethal magnetic knife whistling right

  above my head. I turn and shoot three times. I hit a Sliman (or Slimy as we call them) on the shin. His body writhes in pain for a moment and then he charges at me.

  He’s very tall and built like a rock, he’s strong, he’s got the best hand-eye coordination in the

  universe. He can see as well as a hawk and he can run faster than a deer. He’s a genetic mutation

  designed to take no prisoners, a mix of DNA from three different planets – none of them being Planet

  Earth. Yet, he looks eerily human, except for his emerald green eyes and his chameleonic skin that can change color and thickness to better adapt to any environment. His skin can also breathe underwater

  through its pores.

  A second later, I’m dead. Damian won’t be happy with this. He thinks I never perform to my full

  potential. I will be in trouble. We didn’t start calling him Red by accident. He sees red several times a day and when he does, his face turns red, too.

  I take off my helmet, unbuckle the belt around my waist and get out of the simulation pod.

  Sometimes I think we are extremely lucky to have found these abandoned alien facilities and to have

  them function again, thanks to Theo and Zoe. Other times I think we’re playing with fire and we’ll

  probably live to regret it. Or not. Live, that is.

  We are not ready to go on a real mission or enter into actual battles – least of all me. I am

  probably the weakest link among us. Damian says I lack confidence and that confidence improves

  focus. That’s great, I think, only now I am just focused on my lack of confidence.

  Finn argues that I am as special as everybody else or I wouldn’t be in the camp. It takes an

  enormous amount of courage, he says, to even imagine there’s anything outside the plantations, let

  alone to actually live out here. What Finn doesn’t understand is that I believed in it simply because I was prepared to believe in anything. And everything. It was all a matter of timing and opportunity. I

  believed because I was weak and scared, not because I dreamed of heroic achievements. But Finn is

  always kind to me and replies that knowing one’s weaknesses is the ultimate strength.

  We have taken to calling ourselves the Saviors. In reality, no one has yet heard of us. We have

  to change that. Or maybe not. Maybe it would be better if the twelve of us just learned to live in the wild and stayed far away from the Sliman.

  *

  RABBIT WAITS FOR ME outside the simulation building. I forgot I promised I’d show him

  how to make different types of knots today. It’s one of the few things I’m really good at. Water knots, square knots, Palomar knots, you name it, I’ll make it.

  The old alien facilities consist of eight separate buildings placed one next to the other in a semi-circle with a great open space in the middle that we use for training. We call it the combat ring. A

  huge chunk of the forest had to be cleared to make room for this construction.

  Rabbit and I leave the facilities and return to the surrounding forest. We take the six hundred

  steps to our camp at a slow pace, preferring to linger telling silly dreams. It’s easy to do that with Rabbit, he makes me forget the harsh realities of our circumstances. He’s enthusiastic. He talks about everything, especially the future.

  We go straight to my tent. We need ropes and strings. Rabbit’s tent, as well as the one that

  belongs to Finn, are the only other two that are occupied in this part of the camp. The rest of the

  Saviors stay on the west side to be closer to the water well and the crops. Our best escape route, a

  tunnel, is also there should we ever be discovered.

  Rabbit looks tired in his wrinkly brown pants and shirt. He’s got dirt and mud all over him. He

  must have been running in the hills beyond the south side of the forest again. Despite all warnings. He likes to climb on top of the tallest bluff which provides an open view of the clearing and the facilities below.

  Rabbit is the youngest Savior, barely thirteen, and possibly the fastest creature I have ever seen.

  He’s undersized for his age and can outrun the wind. Ever since we read about a cheetah in an ancient

  book, he dreams of traveling to the far off land where cheetahs once roamed free. Unlike the cheetah,

  and lucky for us, Rabbit can go beyond a twenty second sprint and survive. Needless to say, he is the

  only one among us who could outrun the Sliman if it ever came to that.

  We sit on the ground outside my tent. There’s a pleasant afternoon breeze, something rare in our

  ever-w
arming climate. Rabbit talks almost as fast as he moves and he somehow manages to make

  sense.

  “I can’t wait for the time we make our move on Plantation-6 and I find Kicky and Mendy and get

  them out of there. Their eyes will fall out when they realize it’s me.”

  Plantation-6 was Rabbit’s plantation. The place where he was harvested, trained and severely

  punished every time he made a mistake. Kicky and Mendy are in fact called 6-57849A76 and 6—

  57940A57. We have all been tempted at one time or another to give names to our long lost friends

  from the plantations and imagine the day when we will free them.

  The aliens do not permit names. Our names were the numbers they tattooed on the back of our

  necks. That’s also the reason we were not allowed to have hair longer than three inches on the

  plantations. Those numbers identified us to the Sliman as well as what work detail we belonged to.

  There are fifteen plantations in the district. We know nothing of the rest of the world or even if

  there’s anybody alive outside the plantations and the breeding villages. We wouldn’t even know there

  was a world beyond what we have seen if it weren’t for the library ruins in Lost Town, a place the

  original Saviors happened upon years ago.

  Everything else has been destroyed, pulverized, brought down by the aliens and their mutant

  army, the terrifying Sliman. We stay out of their way as much as we can, avoiding the areas where

  they have surveillance cameras and radars, being extremely careful not to run into a Sliman patrol.

  They don’t know our plans or what we call ourselves, but they are aware of our absence and we are

  forever hunted.

  Rabbit knows we’re nowhere near ready to take over the plantations and free the tens of

  thousands of children that are trapped in them. He just likes to talk about the future as if it were a part of the present. It helps him stay focused, stay aggressive and sleep like a baby at night.

  He manages to make a perfect artillery loop a second after I show him how to do it. His fingers

  are as quick as his legs. He’s been growing by leaps and bounds and I don’t mean that as a joke. Finn

  and I have kind of adopted him. He likes our company and we like his. We never tell him what to do,

  something that he appreciates. In return he treats us with the utmost respect, something that I, at least, could use more of. When I am being totally honest with myself, it’s painfully clear that the other

  eleven Saviors have special attributes that made them destined to be a part of all this. I’m just Finn’s friend from the plantation days. A lucky byproduct of his generosity.

  Rabbit and I are both surprised when Damian and Daphne show up. We are not used to having

  them visit us out here, to the wrong part of the encampment that’s too close to the thick part of the

  forest and too far from the facilities and the underground tunnel that could be used as an emergency

  escape route. It’s not safe, they always warn, and the alien facilities are the reason we decided to set up camp here in the first place, blah blah. We’ve heard all this a million times.

  What they don’t get is that our place is cooler, especially at night, and that the deer we have

  befriended look to us for food and water. We are their protectors and when they run, we are alerted

  of possible danger. We are happier here. We feel safe here.

  I know what Daphne is thinking right now, it’s written all over her face. Tying knots instead of

  training or doing chores. There’s no doubt in her mind that she could salvage Rabbit if only she could have a week alone with him and away from my influence.

  “So this is how the alien empire will fall? With a few lengths of rope?” Daphne says. She has

  such an arrogant smirk on her structurally perfect face.

  All I can do is roll my eyes at her and finish the noose I have been tying ever since I saw her

  approaching. I’d like to snap those long legs of hers, but to do that I’d have to be as strong as Damian.

  “It might take everything we have to win back the world,” Damian says keeping the peace,

  “including a few lengths of rope.”

  Daphne’s smirk fades. She has never liked me and I cannot say I am especially fond of her. I

  have to admit she is more than just a pretty face and long legs. She is easily the strongest girl I have ever seen and she dominates most of us in training with just about every weapon. More importantly,

  her psychic powers could prove essential in avoiding future strategic mistakes for the Saviors. It

  frustrates her to no end that her powers do not work on me.

  “If you are so interested in what we do in our camp, Daphne,” I say, “why don’t you move out

  here with us?” I throw the freshly-tied noose over to her. She holds it up and realizes what she’s

  holding. “We could easily make some room for you out here.”

  “You’re such a child,” Daphne says tossing the noose aside.

  Damian shakes his head amused. “Meeting in twenty minutes at the Armory,” he says.

  Damian is the oldest in our group. He’s just turned twenty which probably also makes him the

  oldest free person in the world or at least in our district. He is severe and never takes a break. I guess these are good qualities for a leader, but he can really get on your nerves and in your head.

  Sometimes I just want him to exhale and smile a little.

  We do not know if there are other plantations or other rebel groups outside the world of our

  district. Toxic craters around the district prevent us from ever leaving it. Our previous leader, Cal, had walked all the way to the perimeter and seen it with his own eyes.

  I barely knew Cal. He died three years ago after eating poisoned food that was left as hunting

  bait by a Sliman Regiment. The poisoned food was meant for the black wolves that had been

  rummaging through the area looking for food. Cal had one tiny bite out of a slice of ham, testing it. He knew instantly something was off and prevented anybody else from trying the food but it was too late

  for him.

  I had only been at the camp for a couple months when Cal died. I had been liberated by Finn,

  Damian and Daphne. Finn had promised he would come back for me. He was like a big brother at

  Plantation-8. His word is as good as raw honey on a small wound. Faith in another can make you

  heal.

  For all intents and purposes, Damian is the only leader I have ever known. He’s stronger than

  anybody I have ever encountered. His strength rivals the Sliman. He understands strategy and tactics

  better than any of us and according to Daphne and Zoe he has a brutish charm.

  Rabbit blasts away from camp in a blur. We watch as all that’s left behind is a few fallen leaves

  floating back to the ground where his feet had been.

  “I’ll be there,” I say gathering up the various knots we have tied.

  “Don’t be late,” Daphne sneers at me. “Given your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if you

  missed the one meeting that concerns you most.” She follows Rabbit’s path with long strides.

  “Nothing has been decided. We wanted you to participate in the process,” Damian adds with an

  unexpected tenderness. Damian usually has no patience for me.

  “Damian, what is it?”

  My question confuses him. “I thought you knew. We thought Rabbit would have told you.”

  “Told me what?’ I ask as a sinking feeling hits my belly.

  “Finn is missing.”

  2

  Finn left the camp two days ago. He volunteered to go out and scan the perimeter around the

  e
ncampment within a two-mile radius and chart down any noticeable changes or unusual activity. He

  always volunteers for stuff like that and it never fails to upset me.

  Why does he have to constantly put his life in danger? Why not Damian or Daphne for a change?

  They are both better skilled and faster. Finn is the one with the sense of duty though. Damian is the

  leader but Finn is the eternal protector. He wants to shield everyone from harm, secure their safety.

  I don’t know why it upsets me so much. We are all in danger, there’s no escape from that. My

  reaction is hypocritical, to say the least. Because of what we are but also because Finn has protected me all my life and I’ve never complained. Finn is the only reason I belong with the Saviors at all.

  Where he is, I should be. This may be the only thing I know for sure.

  We come from the same breeding village and the same plantation, Finn and me. Plantation-8. We

  were transferred to the plantation separately when we turned seven years old like all other children,

  Finn a year ahead of me, leaving our mothers and younger siblings behind in the breeding village.

  Ever since, Finn has been my only family and comfort. He has protected and cared for me, has given

  me part of his food ration when I felt weak or sick, has tucked me in and stroked my hair when I

  couldn’t sleep.

  And he came back for me.

  Finn escaped from the plantation when he was fourteen, trusting that the rumors about the rebel

  bands of teens were true. It took him a year and a half before he came back for me and by that time I

  had lost all hope that he would return or that he was even alive. I missed him and I had to fight back tears as I was under surveillance all day. At night, I unleashed my fury on my pillow, punching it,

  biting it, screaming into it. Being trapped was bad enough, but without Finn it was nearly impossible

  to endure.

  During daytime, I performed my duties and my training along with the rest of the kids. Under the

  watchful eyes of the Sliman, we trained in martial arts and combat, we were instructed how to use our

  mental skills to strengthen our bodies, we cleaned and cooked, we received booster shots of who

  knows what and gulped down a handful of pills daily. We went through numerous tests, exams and