Impervious de Heather Letto: Extracto + Sorteo

Sinopsis:

Los residentes de Impervious son los sobrevivientes de la guerra de aniquilación. Y aunque la ciudad está repleta de placeres para tentar y entretener, una bestia acecha en las esquinas, y frecuenta a los residentes con su presencia. La Bestia, una misteriosa enfermedad terminal, mató a la mayoría de las Generaciones Uno, Dos y Tres. Y como el Gen-Cuatro se prepara para subir al escenario, una provocativa todavía cuestionable, un nuevo método para evitar una muerte prematura incite una rabia cultural. Pero Fran vive contra-cultura, en la rejilla al más puro estilo rebelde. Con una vida lejos de opulenta, ella se escabulle a través de túneles oscuros en busca de comidas calientes con Pete mientras abandona el equipo de seguridad holográfica. Para ella, es una solución de compromiso saludable. Irresponsabilidad significa que El Consejo no puede robar su pequeña esperanza, la creencia de que ella va a ver a The Epoch llegar antes que la bestia puede tirar de ella en su fétido abrazo.

Fran spied Gillius, third in line, in front of a girl with a sleek chestnut mane. Like the others, Gillius' left fist rested on his chest, pinky pointed upward as he gave honor to the great city of Impervious. His glassy stare screamed of the venom already snaking through his veins, soon to bring an end to his life.

A shudder shook Fran as she wondered about corporeal termination. Rumors spoke of an excruciating end where the forfeitures dropped into agonizing spasms of death during the final pageant. Fran shivered again and reminded herself that sensationalism stemmed from useless gossip which, in turn, always led to melodrama. Then again, the entire event was absurd, so why not?

She questioned whether she and Pete should even be there, gawking like a typical resident as the parade worked their way down the stairs from center stage to the outside rim of the circle. They began an official promenade moving as one unit, soundlessly, like a snake slithers through tall grasses. Right behind Gillius, the girl-what's her name?-moved with the grace of a dancer, while glowing hair cascaded about her shoulders like the velvety train of her robe.

Chestnut Peak―that was it.

As the procession moved closer, Fran could make out their facial features with better clarity. Chestnut's obvious youth surprised her. As far as she knew, no one under twenty-five had ever forfeited, yet this girl still had the look of a mid-lifer, like Fran.

The line swayed with rhythmic motion, and soon snaked only fifteen feet or so away from the venting where Fran and Pete hid. The eerie silence which enshrouding the promenade morphed into the sound of rushing air. A dozen pairs of slippers moved in a whisper just a few inches from Fran's eyes. When the fourth set of feet swished into her line of vision, Fran noticed a hesitation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, would you please bow your heads as Sasha Lee Dees surrenders, and we give honor to her name."

Sasha? Fran sucked in her breath.

The entire march halted. A deafening silence reverberated through the courts followed by horrific gurgling sounds. Then, Sasha dropped to the floor. Not more than a few feet from where Fran sat tucked into the venting, her chestnut head rolled from side to side and her eyes shone like polished black orbs.

Back when Fran still lived in the Old East Wing, Sasha had visited their pod once or twice to work with Ted on his macros. Fran remembered spying on them from her doorway, hoping to catch her brother making a move or something. She could almost hear Sasha's easy laughter and witty remarks.

Now, however, her eyes locked onto Fran's as if screaming for help. Her face contorted, and her body trembled. Fran felt a vibration move through her own body as her nerves quivered in sympathetic pain. Sasha's arms and legs splayed and spasmed as her back arched and head thrashed about. A sickening, acrid odor, like a mix of poison and death, wafted from the velvety robe, and bile rose in Fran's throat. Finally, Sasha's eyes rolled back into her head, and her movement terminated.

A cheer erupted from the crowd who loitered on overhead balconies and platforms, and Fran clasped her hands over her mouth stifle the scream that roared through her body. All Accountable residents of legal viewing age watched the event. It was a big deal. Although some probably scrutinized from a small screen in the comfort of their living pods, too many just couldn't resist the sick urge to watch it live.

The cheers finally died down, and when reverence returned, the swishing slippers resumed. The seven forfeitures in line behind Sasha tiptoed over the fallen body and continued the march, leaving Sasha where she dropped.