WORLD OF SHELL AND BONE
DYSTOPIAN/SPECULATIVE FICTION (ADULT)
In a world ravaged by a nuclear holocaust, Vika Cannon knows there are no guarantees: no guarantees of safety, no guarantees that your neighbor is not actually a spy for the government, and no guarantees you’ll be allowed to emigrate to Asia, which is a person’s only chance for survival.
New Amana (as the North and South American continents are now called) is blanketed by a constant drift of fallout. Food and water are scarce, acid rain has eaten away at all the structures, and generations of people suffering from radiation-caused mutations—the Nukeheads—are the new class of homeless. To control the conditions, the government operates under a totalitarian regime.
Every resident of New Amana has only one purpose. Females must produce healthy progeny using Husbands who are assigned to them by the Match Clinic. Unhealthy children are carted away to Asylums where experiments are run to determine what went wrong. Parents incapable of producing healthy progeny are put to death in gas chambers.
When Vika Cannon is assigned a Husband shortly after her twentieth birthday, she expects him to be complacent and obedient as all Husbands are. But Shale Underwood has a secret. He is a member of the Radicals, the terrorist group intent on overthrowing the government and freeing the children in the Asylums. Not only that, Shale has information about Ceres, Vika’s sister, who was taken to the Asylums as a child.
Now, Vika must decide whether she wants to assist Shale or have a baby and get on a ship to a new life.
First 150 words:
I am baffled by mirrors.
When I look at my reflection, I see eyes I do not recognize, my mother's nose, my sister's mouth. It is myface, but the lines and curves of it do not resonate deep within me, do not inspire waves of feeling. I am nothing more than a collection of genetic puzzle pieces—I understand and accept this fully. I do not think myself beautiful, nor ugly. In any case, such labeling of oneself is against the law.
Dressing quickly in my uniform, I tie the scarf around my left arm. It weighs heavily on me today, heavier, perhaps, than it has in a long time. The large red zero flaunts my emptiness. I am devoid of an embryo. As of this moment, I am worth very little to my government and my people. But maybe today that will change.