Did you catch Monday's feature to Stellar's story, Hidden Sunlight? It's well worth a read, but if the member's review didn't convince you, please check out this excerpt from chapter one! 

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Trying to describe being in stasis is difficult.

On the one hand, it's kinda like being asleep. Heavy limbs, mind just slowly kinda shuts down, everything goes into hibernation.

On the other hand, it's also kinda like being dead. No more body control, no sensation of breathing, no movement, no suggestion that you are alive. Nothing other than stillness.

Yet it wasn't sleep and it wasn't death. It was some halfway point between the two, a breathless, thoughtless, extended dreamworld, without any dreams. Without any pain or emotion; without any conscious or unconscious change. At least, that's what it was supposed to be, but somehow, I was aware at some level. Deep down, even with everything held a hair's breadth above being motionless, somehow I could still perceive.

After, I didn't remember anything specific. No actual memories and real sensations, because my body and mind weren't tuned to any of that, weren't recording it. Just lurking at the very distant shadowed corners of my consciousness, some part of me was still capable of knowing. That part of me could feel the tiniest thing. It felt like this golden glow. How it seemed, even with no concept of time, to warm slowly through me until I bathed in a pleasant harmless subsistence of a dream; less than that, a non-dream really, that seemed to continue for an eternity.

Then, I woke up.

-o-0-O-0-o-

The first thing I remember was the click of the chamber opening, the hiss of the air pressure changing, just as it had when it had sealed shut. Those little sounds were the catalysts for me to properly wake. Eyes were still shut as sensations entered my notice again. My arms and legs, feet, stomach, head; everything felt normal. My throat was dry -- really dry, almost parched -- but otherwise, it was like I'd woken up from a nap.

The room was dimly lit as I pulled myself upright, rubbing my eyes. No-one else was there and I wondered where my parents and Dr Albans were. The doctor had said they would all be around when it was time for me to wake up, but it didn't look like anyone had been into the room in a while. A carpet of dust lay across the floor and I padded slowly across it, small puffs of it rising as I moved, swirling around my toes in a nearly ticklish fashion. My mind was trying to piece together coherent thoughts about what was happening. I was still wearing the clothes I arrived in that same morning, since the doctor had assured me it didn't matter what I wore into the chamber. My shoes were left on the second floor, outside Albans' office. The Hoffstadt chambers were on a basement level, a couple below the ground floor.

Making my way up the stairs, I began to notice something. This place was a mess. The layer of dust had been obvious enough, but as I climbed up to the ground floor, there was a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something wasn't right.

In fact, something is very wrong with this place.

As I thought more, I realised I had not seen a single light turned on so far, nor even a sign that anybody else was here. It was quiet.

Uncomfortably quiet.

This is just like an abandoned building.

The feeling intensified as I climbed the final stretch of stairs to the lobby, now apprehensive. Creeping along the darkened hallway, the dust at this level gave way to a grimy stained-looking patina. Cautiously, I rounded the corner and was stopped motionless in my tracks by the view.

What in the ...

The lobby had been filled with comfortable red leather couches, magazines, a water cooler and the long curving moulded white synth-wood desk where the reception staff had greeted the clients. Now, this was gone. The broad window which took up nearly all of the exterior wall had been smashed, clearly quite a while ago since there wasn't really any broken glass visible, apart from fragments still clinging to the frame. All the furniture and decoration was gone, replaced by a scattering of scraps of wood and leather, sticks, leaves and dirt. Outside wasn't much different. The carpark was littered with weeds and debris, broken branches, random bits of rubbish. No cars. No people. It was the middle of the day, overcast, the clouds glowing dimly in the sunlight, much more muted than the last time I saw them. Even the road leading back to Palatus looked empty, the town itself not visible from here.

Staring, confused, dismayed, I stumbled forward onto the cracking asphalt of the parking lot. Still blinking from the natural light, not yet used to it, I just stood there and took it all in. This place looks abandoned, deserted. For days, maybe for weeks. My breath came faster and faster as I tried not to hyperventilate. Tried to ignore the rising sense of panic.

Where is everybody?

What's going on?

Why am I alone?

Is this some kind of horrible dream?

Am I even awake at all?

Looking up at the peaceful glow of the sky, the panic that'd been growing reached breaking point and it hit me like a speeding truck. Tears welled up and overflowed, and the anger, the frustration, the unfairness, the fucking injustice of how demented the world seemed came out in a scream. A wordless scream of suffering and grief that continued until my lungs hurt and I slumped down onto my knees, fists balled so tightly my knuckles hurt. Tears dripped onto my pants and shirt as I looked down and with my next breath, shouted again, this time every single curse word that I could think of. My vision was so blurry that I couldn't make anything out at all and my eyes were burning, head aching, from the release.

Until finally, there was nothing more to yell at in the empty parking lot, the empty building, the empty countryside. Taking a deep breath and wiping my face on my sleeve, I simply sat there, exhausted from everything.

I just want it to go away. I wish that I was ... that I ...... I don't know. That I'm ... someone else. Anyone else ... so I don't have to be here, now. So I don't have to be so fucked up.

So broken.

I took another deep breath, at last managing to calm myself down a little bit. In. Breath out. Then, this simple act made me realise for the first time, sitting on the uncomfortable gritty surface, so alone and mixed up in the cool air of the afternoon, on that alien world, that the pain was gone.

With the inexplicable way things were after waking up, it hadn't occurred to me. There hadn't been room in my head to think about this on top of trying to figure out what the fuck had happened. Instinctively, my hand came to my chest and my stomach, and I took another breath, slower and more deliberate. Again, I couldn't feel anything but the sensation of breathing, the rise and fall, muscles moving like they normally should. The slight twinge in my lungs and the pangs further down which always seemed to trigger at random times when I exerted myself, or even just with no prompting at all ...

Are they gone?

There was no headache until after crying. That's normal. No chest pain. My arms and legs feel fine, just like when I woke up in the chamber.

Slowly, I climbed back to my feet and with a rising sense of excitement, ignoring my salt-stained face and clothes, I was realising that my body felt normal. All the signs of my condition had vanished. Now that I really thought about it, I felt fine. Normal. I had NEVER been this way before. There was always something wrong, but now? Now, there was nothing. Now it was just life.

I'm thirsty, and really hungry, and ... and ...... I am CURED! There's nothing wrong any more.

The relief was huge, and gave me back some sanity. Like hell I was going to let all this beat me. I was fucking cured! I'd never had such motivation before in my life and with the revelation that I was almost certainly not sick anymore, I felt renewed -- in spirit as much as physically.

I really want to get out of here. But first, I need to find my shoes ...

-o-0-O-0-o-

As I followed the road away from the parking lot and back towards Palatus, I tried to remember everything I could about the surrounding countryside. I had been far too distracted when we arrived to pay much attention even after we got to the town. I didn't even remember the drive to the medical centre itself, just vaguely the place we were staying. It was a motel on the outskirts that dad had booked for a month. If I can make it there, maybe I can find them, or someone who knows where they are.

Whatever had happened at the Volkov building, the place I was leaving, must have been serious. It didn't look like anyone had been along the road for a while. Perhaps it was more than weeks. Perhaps it was months since I went to 'sleep', but the doctor told me that it wasn't possible to stay 'hibernating' for that long without big problems. I'd be like a vegetable or just dead if that were true. So it couldn't be, could it? I mean, I feel 100% fine. In fact I feel better than I ever have. The treatment worked. I still can't believe it worked!

The reverie was interrupted by my stomach growling and the equally intrusive itch of my throat. How far had it been from Palatus? I thought hard, the gravel crunching under my sneakers as my legs continued on autopilot, plodding doggedly, mind still occupied. We were driving for, um, like more than 15, almost 20 minutes from town and dad was doing 90 kilometres per hour almost all the way, because he's a freak and likes to go slower than the speed limit. Whatever. So that means, uh, 30 kilometres? Less, maybe 25 or something.

I groaned aloud. It was going to take me probably four or five fucking hours to get close to town. I would be starving by then. I already felt like I hadn't had anything to eat in forever and combined with being this thirsty, it wasn't going to be fun.

I was so occupied I didn't notice the faint rustle of movement in the trees off the roadside and then a stinging slap, a jolt into my shoulder as something struck me. The shock of it was electrical and pretty powerful and my limbs seized, momentarily stunned and I was falling backwards. What the fuck? Dizzily, I grabbed for the dart, still stuck painfully into my flesh and pulled it out, trying at the same time to stand. There was no time though, because a split second later, I was being yanked off my feet again and dragged away from the road, vision spinning.

The next thing I knew I was hitting the ground, my face pressed into sticks and dried leaves. Then pulled around, forcibly rolled over, onto my back. People were standing over me. There were two of them, maybe another further away, I wasn't totally sure. Both men, one younger, one older. The younger glanced down at me, a look of pure contempt on his face and turned to the other and began speaking rapidly in another language. It took a moment to register what it was as I lay there, blinking and rubbing my forehead as the last mental fuzziness from the shock died away.

Spanish? Why Spanish? Then I remembered. Lucere was settled by European colonists. A lot of European languages were commonly spoken here. I couldn't understand what they were saying but he was animated as he pointed at me, gesturing again. The older didn't speak, but when his gaze flicked down at me, his face was impassive. Cold. Handsome, but in a very arrogant hard way. A long straight nose, dark hair, olive skin and iron hard brown eyes. He looks like he'd hurt me if I don't give in to whatever he wants. Oh, fuck.

Then his eyes moved back to the younger man, but in a moment they were back on me, as he did a double take, fully turning his head to look down at me, now seeming surprised. Then without changing his angle: "Carlos, ssh."

The younger man immediately shut up, frowning as he too turned to look at me. The older crouched down, close to my face. He looked at me for another second or two, intently, then spoke, his voice soft but extremely insistent. I could smell sweat and dirt, and could see in fine detail a line of black stubble across his jaw from when he'd last shaved. I didn't know why but everything about him freaked me out.

"Hablas español?"

I shook my head slowly, a lump forming in my throat.

"Italiano? Deutsch? Ou français?"

Again, I shook my head. My mouth felt as dry as cotton and I wasn't sure I could speak even if I wanted to right now.

Then a little slower and strongly accented. "How about English? I think so, you look like the kid of some gringo. I think I am right, sí?"

"Yeah, English," I croaked, my voice as rough and dry as the leaves I was lying on.

Without hesitation, his hand came up, grabbing my chin, pushing it first left then right, examining my face. Then down to my right wrist, pulling up my arm. Then the other arm. The other man began to speak again in Spanish, but was instantly hushed.

"I don't want to repeat Carlos. We have a guest here, can't you tell? Some courtesy, favor."

Carlos sighed irritably, still glaring down at me. "León, now will you ask him? Ask him why there are no-"

"In good time, chico." León cut off the younger smoothly. "First I have a question or two of my own for our new friend here." He smiled at me wolfishly then leaned back a bit, pulling me abruptly into sitting position, his face still unnervingly close to mine. Friend? I wonder how he treats his enemies.

"Where are my manners? As you have heard I am León and this is Carlos. You would be ... ?"

"Shay."

"Well hola mi amigo Shay. I apologise for our meeting, but these are dangerous times, you understand." Dangerous times? No fucking kidding. "It is no place to wander, this country. You don't want to be caught in the open. But, this does make me think. What is a young man like you doing out here on his own?"

Something told me it would be a big mistake to tell him the complete truth, but at the same time he seemed awfully sharp. My gut instinct wasn't to lie, because I didn't really know what was going on anyway, and I felt it wouldn't end well if he realised I wasn't being honest, or if he didn't believe my story, which was just as likely. Think fast. The partial truth. A half truth, just not all of it.

"I, uh, got separated from my family. We haven't been here for long, I just got lost."

His expression didn't change. "Lost hmm? May be true, I think. You don't look like one from near here. Your clothes are foreign, easy to be smelled, especially on a road like this." His eyes narrowed and the grin faded somewhat. Involuntarily, my throat tightened. "It seems Carlos is interested in something else about you, amigo. I am also, I will admit. You see, it is not often I meet anyone who is as clean as you are. You must tell me, how is it that you are so untouched?"

There was no way to bluff my way out of this. I didn't even know what he meant. Untouched? Clean? Is he talking about some kind of disease? My hesitation and confusion must both have been evident, because León drew up the sleeve of the jacket he was wearing and held his forearm in front of me. In patches and splotches, the skin on his arm looked discoloured and wrong. From the amount of time I'd spent in hospitals and around doctors, the word 'lesion' immediately entered my mind. They weren't too big, maybe coin sized, but they were sprinkled across his arm, looking like something had taken root in his flesh. It looked unhappily merged with the normal skin, the texture seeming hard to the touch. It looked almost inhuman and I struggled not to recoil from him.

 

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