Unbelief Series by C.B. Stone - Book Tour + Giveaway
Rehabilitation
Unbelief Book 1
by C.B. Stone
Genre:
YA Dystopian
YA Dystopian
171 pages
Darkness has a name...
From the ashes of destruction, the Elite rose up as the ruling power of
the New World, enforcing new laws.
Those laws are broken at great peril.
When she witnesses her best friend taken by force in the night, she knows
he is destined for a fate worse than death.
She’s heard the rumors, the whispers of what happens in Rehabilitation.
She’s seen the dead looks in the eyes of those who return.
If they return.
But she can’t ignore what she's witnessed...
No matter the danger.
How can she abandon her best friend to such a fate?
She must try to save him...
No matter the cost.
the New World, enforcing new laws.
he is destined for a fate worse than death.
She must try to save him...
This is a dystopian series set in a post-apocalyptic world with hints of
romance. Books should be read in order. May be cliff hangers.
Outside is freezing. The snow has piled
up so high it’s up to my thighs and I wade through
it
more like water than anything. It makes my progress slow going. That coupled
with the biting
wind
doesn’t help me stay warm. It would be better if I were just walking through
town. It’d still
be
freezing of course, but the buildings would help block some of the harsh wind.
Unfortunately,
I’m not in town.
I’ve
hopped over the little rock wall—I couldn’t even see it beneath the snow—and
now
I’m
heading out in the icy cold toward the tall ruins of the Old World.
Normally,
I wouldn’t be out here. It’s stupid being out here during winter, especially
alone.
It’s
why me and Jacob always hunted and worked together. If something goes wrong, if
I fall
through
a rotted floorboard or get caught by a hungry animal, or if I just get lost in
the neverending
white,
there is no one out here to help me or save me. What’s worse, it’s incredibly
illegal.
That
wouldn’t worry me too much most of the time, but lately it’s been a bad idea to
do
anything
illegal. Selectors
and other Elite have been unusually active in the Gate lately, taking
people
in the middle of the night for Trials and Rehabilitation, then throwing what’s
left of their
family
to foster care… It’s never been this bad before. What I’m doing is just dumb.
The worst
kind
of dumb. The kind of dumb just asking
for punishment.
Which
is exactly
why I’m doing it.
It’s
maybe another mile until I hit the edge of the Old World. From there, I’ve
decided I’ll
head
west. Jacob and I haven’t seen all of the ruins, but we’ve seen a lot over the
years and I’ve
got
a good feel where things are now. Most days, I’m only out here looking for
things to take
back
to town. Stuff I can either use myself or things I can sell to the denizens of
the Gate.
Today’s
different. Today, I’m looking for something specific. So I’m headed to the west
end of
the
Old World town, in hopes of finding it.
I
pull my coat tighter around me, tucking my chin so I can cover my face, ducking
low into
my
scarf. Only my eyes are visible, looking out across the wide expanse of white
snow. Each
step
I take I struggle with. It drains my energy and I wonder fleetingly if I’ll
even make it back
when
things are all said and done. I tighten my jaw, determination washing through
me.
“I’ll
make it,” I mutter to myself, my voice whipped away immediately by the fierce
wind.
The
cold air feels like needles against my skin, but I push forward anyway.
Sometimes my
stubbornness
pays off.
After
nearly forty-five minutes, I reach the edge of the ruined city. It doesn’t
normally take
me
so long, but then I usually don’t go out in the midst of a blizzard to trudge
through thigh deep
snow.
All things considered, I’ve made good time.
Entering
the city makes an instant difference. It’s still cold outside and there’s still
lots of
snow,
banks of it piled up against decaying buildings, and roads completely covered
by it. But
the
wind is less, thankfully. The buildings break at least some of it and what raw
skin I have
exposed
is grateful for any reprieve.
I’m
careful while I move through the city ruins. Although it’s winter and no other
sane
person
is going to be out in all of this, I know animals aren’t quite the same. Most
of them, much
like
people, will be hiding wherever they can find warmth. But not all of them. Some
will be out
scrounging
around for food, searching for whatever protein and fat they can find. A frail
little
human
girl would make an awesome meal for the big cats that like to roam the area.
I’m quiet as
I
move, making for slow going. Every so often I’ll pause to make sure there isn’t
anything
moving
out there, or worse, stalking me. I’ll listen and watch and wait, then when I
decide it’s
safe,
I continue moving.
Most
of the ruins look the same. The tall buildings boast dirty or broken windows,
gates
bent
or torn down altogether, and doors leaning open on their hinges. Inside,
they’re filled with
filth.
A mixture of collected dirt, rubble, and remains of whatever poor animal took
shelter inside
to
die. That’s how I know I’m getting close to the west end of the city. Things
start changing,
fast.
The buildings surrounding me get shorter. Some of them I’m sure were always
short, but
others
look like they were once skyscrapers like the rest of the city and have just
crumbled since
being
built. As they get shorter and shorter, other things start to change too. Black
tar and
charcoal
covers the structures.
There
are square patches with metal skeletal remains, the only thing left of whatever
structure
was once there. Nothing ever grows here, not even in spring or summer months.
There
are
scorch marks that cover the ground and even snow doesn’t seem to linger in
these places. I
shiver,
unable to control it. My eyes roam the ruins, glinting grimly, eager to get
what I need and
get
out of here.
Once,
we came across a map of a small portion of the old city. I remember not being
able
to
read it, not because I couldn’t
read, but because the
symbols and everything on it didn’t make
any
sense. There aren’t
any official maps left of the old cities, at least not complete one, only
fragments
here and there like what we found. It’s difficult to say what exactly this place used to
be,
but Jacob had a theory. He always
had a theory. My lips
quirk at that. I miss his theories.
He
used to say this area was destroyed so much worse than the others that it had to have
been
important. People only destroy things, try to erase them completely, when they
rabidly hate
it—or
when they know it’s truly important to someone else. He said when the God Wars
happened
years ago, the Elite targeted places that were most significant to the citizens
of the Old
World.
I
don’t know if his theory is true or not, but I wouldn’t put it past the Elite
to destroy the
thing
that was most important to someone. I wouldn’t put anything past the Elite. My
lips tighten
as
I keep trudging, eyes constantly scanning the area around me, trying to quicken
my pace.
Walking
through the charred landscape makes me uneasy now. The snow and the wind and
the
cold were bad enough, but here, in this particular section of the ruins, things
are… eerie. It is
weird
there isn’t any snow on the ground, even though snow still falls from the sky.
It is weird
the
ground feels warmer and the air here feels thicker and harder to breathe.
I
never liked being in this part of the city, but Jacob used to always want to
come here.
“This
is where we’ll find it,” he always declared, tone adamant, eyes lit with hope
and
determination.
“If there’s anything they’d want gone, completely eradicated, it would have
been
that. And they tried to get rid of everything
around here.”
Whether
he was right or wrong, we never found what he was looking for and after a while
he
finally agreed the place was creepy and promised he’d stop making me come back
here.
“Guess
you broke your promise,” I mutter into the creepy too still air.
Because
he is
making me come out
here, whether he meant to or not this time. My boots
clop
over the blackened cement as I keep a sharp eye out. I’ve come here for
something specific,
something
that will guarantee attention.
Last
night, I didn’t sleep. Not even a wink. Every time my eyes tried to slide shut,
I had
this
image of Rehabilitation flash in front of them. Like it was burned into my eyelids.
I pictured
Jacob
there, horrible things happening to him… and then Miriam would be standing
beside him,
limp
and just sort of staring with those wide gray eyes. She would watch, horrified
as he was
hurt,
hurt badly even, but she wouldn’t do
anything. And then
there was the body.
I
always tried not to look at the body lying on the ground near Miriam’s feet,
but I didn’t
have
to to know instinctively who it was. My dad. Dresden Reardon, his light brown
hair matted
down
to his face and his hazel eyes just staring out at nothing… I shove the picture
hastily from
my
mind, refusing to give it a foothold. That’s what kept me from sleeping last
night. The idea
people
I care about are trapped there in Rehabilitation, being tortured just because
they believe in
something
the Elite doesn’t like.
At
this point, I can’t help Miriam or my father. Miriam has come and gone from
Rehabilitation
and whatever damage they did is already done. I can’t stop it or change it, and
my
Dad
is dead. Jacob is there in that camp now. And I can still do something to help
him. I’m
determined
to do something.
The
problem is, I don’t quite know what that something is. I don’t know how to help
him.
Miriam
told me last night as we sat in front of the fire if I wanted Jacob back—and I
do, I
desperately
do—then I’m going to have to bring him back myself.
But
she didn’t tell me just how I’m supposed to do that. So I stayed up, trying not
to think
or
dream, and came up with an idea during the night. It’s a stupid plan. It’s a
plan that’s going to
get
me into more trouble than I know how to get out of, I’m certain. But what do I
have to lose?
Jacob
is gone. My best friend, the only person in this world I still care about is stuck in some
glorified
concentration camp. He’s basically a prisoner.
No
one will let me see his sister, so I can’t take care of her. I can’t keep her
safe or be of
any
comfort to her, and that would be the only
thing that would stop
me from trying the
unthinkable.
So… I came up with a plan.
I’m
going to break into Rehabilitation.
“Yeah,
brilliant plan,” I say to the cold, trying not to focus too hard on the other
part of my
big
plan.
I
try not to touch anything in the blackened area, still worried there’s
something not quite
right
about the region and it’s going to make me sick if I touch any of it. Instead,
I use the toes of
my
boots to kick at things, moving them around as I search the barren ruins.
I
have to find something provocative. Something forbidden. That’s the other part of my big
plan.
Once I realized I would have to get into Rehabilitation, I also realized there
was only one
way
I could do that: fail at Trial. Except that’s the kicker. I’ve had only one
Trial the last few
years,
compared to most people who have anywhere between two and ten Trials in a
single year.
I
never
get Selected for
Trial. Why? Because everyone knows I’m not a Believer. There’s no
point
in testing me, it’s always been a wasted effort. After my mother’s death, I’m
surprised they
test
me at all anymore.
Most
of the time, I would consider that a good thing. I always knew I didn’t want to
go to
the
Hall of Science and sit in a white room for hours while they tried to decide if
there is
something
in my head they didn’t like. Except now I know I need to get there, so things are
much
more complicated.
First,
there’s the problem that Selections are random. Random time, random place,
random
person.
Selection might be at the Gate this month, or up at one of the other sectors
instead. They
might
take only one person or they might take twenty. It’s impossible to predict,
which is
deliberate.
They don’t want to give us any time to prepare for our Trials. They like to
catch us
off
guard so they can discover the truth about what we think.
That’s
not a huge problem though. Random Selections don’t affect me in this case
seeing
as
how I want
to go to Trial. I
just have to be patient and wait. Not my strongest virtue, but what
choice
do I have?
The
second problem is a tiny bit trickier though. When Selection does occur, how will I
make
sure they Select me?
I’m the least likely
person to get Selected. No one’s going to be
suspicious
of my beliefs. Absolutely no one. I sigh, incredulous that unbelief
is a bigger problem
for
me right now than Believing. That’s why I’m out here, kicking around the
charcoal of the
Old
World. I kind of hope me being out here at all is enough for them to look my
way, but I
don’t
think it is. They never noticed my frequent trips into the Old World before, so
why would
they
start now? No, I’ve got to give them a bigger reason. A reason they can’t
ignore and I’ve
decided
what that reason will be. I’m going to find something banned and get caught
with it.
Unfortunately,
it’s not enough to just get caught with a book or clothing or something they
know
is from the ruins. Instead, I’ve got to come back with something bad… something from a
church
for instance. The ghost of a grin crosses my face, and I can’t help feeling
quite pleased
with
myself in spite of the direness of the situation. So that’s what I’m looking
for, a church. I
hope
Jacob was right and this charcoal landscape is where the old churches used to
stand. Even
more
so, I hope amidst all the rubble I can find something truly incriminating.
I
haven’t had a lot of luck as of yet and it’s starting to worry me. What if I
can’t find
anything?
What if there’s nothing to
find? There’s every
possibility Jacob’s searching all these
years
has all been for nothing. Maybe—probably—the churches of the Old World are
nothing
more
than rubble, destroyed completely by the people we now call the Elite. I bite
off a sigh of
frustration,
but still refusing to abandon my big plan.
To
my right I notice a building half caved in. It’s smaller than the others. It’s
hard to tell,
but
I’m willing to bet it likely wasn’t one of those buildings that disappeared
into the skies. Its
bricks
are blackened and what may have once been a door is little more than a pile of
sticks on
the
ground near an opening. But there is
an opening. I go to
it and step carefully over the cracked
wooden
remains of the door. Inside, it’s stuffy and the air is stale. There obviously
hasn’t been
anyone
in here since it was burned down.
Once
inside, I’m not sure what kind of building it is. The inside of it is different
from most
of
the Old World buildings I’ve seen or been inside of. Definitely wasn’t one of
those sky
scraper
buildings, that’s for sure. Moving deeper inside, I continue to study my
surroundings.
There’s
a long middle aisle that covers the entire length of the large, single room.
Wooden
beams
from the ceiling have collapsed on top of it, making it difficult for me to
reach the other
side.
Gray light filters in through the non-existent roof, making the room appear
ghostly. The
quiet
certainly doesn’t help. It’s not even the same quiet from outside. The quiet
that fills the
west
side of the ruins is all about instant destruction. It’s about the feeling
people didn’t even get
a
chance to take a breath before the end was upon them. This silence is different. I don’t know
why
though, all I know is it feels… more peaceful somehow? Weird. I shrug to myself and
continue
exploring.
Along
either side of the middle aisle are rows and rows of benches. Many of them are
charred
completely black and are chipped so bad they’ve collapsed in the middle. Some
have just
been
moved out of alignment, skewed so that they’re running into each other, and
some even on
top
of others.
At
the other end of the room it looks like there’s some sort of platform or dais,
but the roof
has
caved down on it, covering it completely so I can’t see for sure what used to
be there.
There’s
little more than piles of dust and debris from the roof all along the floor. I
jump
over
it and sidestep as best I can. It’s so quiet here I can hear my feet echo where
they touch
solid
floor and creak where they hit wood. When I come to the wooden beams that block
the
aisle,
I gingerly try to climb over them. Bracing myself with my hands, wrinkling my
nose and
hoping
I’m not touching anything toxic, I dig my foot in and heave myself over the
huge beam. I
think
I’ve made it and crawl over other pieces of wood to the other side, when I hear
an ominous
snapping
sound.
I
let out a cry just as the beams crack beneath me and I fall, landing hard on
the ground
with
a grunt pain. My breath whooshes from my lungs on impact. A cloud of dust
drifts up into
the
air, with light coming in through the roof making the individual specs of dust
visible as they
float
on the air. I lay on my back, gasping for air and coughing, taking a moment to
make sure I
don’t
have any serious injuries. I grimace, knowing I’m going to be sore later
regardless.
I
think I’m mostly okay, so I roll onto my side, ready to get to my hands and
knees before
pushing
up to stand. Before I do though, I pause, my eyes caught on something I’d never
have
noticed
had I not taken a spill of the beams. There on the floor, hidden under one of
the long
wooden
rows, is a small book. It’s old and barely larger than my two hands put
together. My
eyes
widen with surprise. I can’t believe I’ve found a book in this place. The only
time I’ve ever
come
across books with Jacob was when we scouted schools and libraries, and most of
those
books
hadn’t survived the brutality of time very well.
I
worry this one hasn’t either.
With
trembling hands, still shaken from my fall, I reach out for it, half afraid it might
disintegrate
the moment I touch it. But it doesn’t. I breathe a minute sigh of relief and
gently
slide
it across the floor toward me. It’s covered in dust. I run a finger along the
top of it and
wrinkle
my nose, coming away with a thick layer of the stuff. I wipe my finger on my
pants, and
taking
a deep breath, I blow hard, blowing the dust off it, and making myself cough in
the
process
amidst the cloud that rises in my face. I wave a hand and wipe my nose,
struggling not to
sneeze
and pile on insult to injury.
When
the dust clears, I can finally see the cover. I squint, but I’m only able to
make out
one
word on it.
Prayer.
My
lips tilt in a small smile. Jacob,
here I come.
Ruin
Unbelief Book 2
161 pages
What happens when your eyes are opened to truth?
I dream that night of walking through the ruins. Strangely, I’m
barefoot. Yet the snow beneath my feet doesn’t feel cold, I don’t
even feel cold. Somehow though, I’m going the right way, I know I
am. I’m not sure how I know… it’s just a knowing I feel deep
down in my bones.
Sinna has stumbled into a world unlike
any she’s ever known. Her eyes have been opened and there’s no
going back. She’s never considered herself a Believer, she always
left that to Jacob, but things are happening fast.
Is there something to this faith stuff after all?
And if there is, is it strong enough to see her through what’s coming next?
This is a dystopian series set in a post-apocalyptic world with hints of romance.
Books should be read in order. May be cliff hangers.
barefoot. Yet the snow beneath my feet doesn’t feel cold, I don’t
even feel cold. Somehow though, I’m going the right way, I know I
am. I’m not sure how I know… it’s just a knowing I feel deep
down in my bones.
any she’s ever known. Her eyes have been opened and there’s no
going back. She’s never considered herself a Believer, she always
left that to Jacob, but things are happening fast.
Books should be read in order. May be cliff hangers.
Revelation
Unbelief Book 3
165 pages
She can't walk away now...
This plan—this crazy, stupid, impossible plan—could work. At the very
least, it will serve to get the boys back into the folds of the
Elite, so they don’t come to any harm for helping me.
And it’ll get me back inside so I can try to save my father—but then
what? How will I get him out? We have no guarantees this will even work…
Sinna is headed back to Rehabilitation.
Like it or not, she doesn't see any other alternatives. She can't just
pretend everything is okay, and hide out in the Garden.
But how will they get back there?
And what will happen when they do?
Will they be able make it back out alive a second time?
Sinna isn't at all sure about any of it, but her conscience won't let her back out now.
least, it will serve to get the boys back into the folds of the
Elite, so they don’t come to any harm for helping me.
what? How will I get him out? We have no guarantees this will even work…
pretend everything is okay, and hide out in the Garden.
Will they be able make it back out alive a second time?
God Wars: The Beginnings
Unbelief Book 4
188 pages
In the Beginning...
Believing wasn’t always a crime.
Faith in God wasn’t always illegal.
In the glory days of the Old World, there were
many who lived out their faith in full view of all, and taught their
children, and their children’s children about God, their beloved Creator.
In those days, prayer was still allowed in
schools, church was still held on Sundays with picnics and family get
togethers afterward, and the spare change that jangled in everyone’s
pockets still carried the words ‘In God We Trust’.
Then the God Wars happened. Life was never the same again.
This is a prequel. It's highly recommended to read the Unbelief Trilogy first.
many who lived out their faith in full view of all, and taught their
children, and their children’s children about God, their beloved Creator.
schools, church was still held on Sundays with picnics and family get
togethers afterward, and the spare change that jangled in everyone’s
pockets still carried the words ‘In God We Trust’.
C.B. Stone is sometimes called author, writer, or purveyor of stories. One
might even dub her a yarn spinner if you will. It's very possible she
might be considered just a little left of normal by most, but she's
cool with that. Really, she's too busy avoiding normal to care. On
any given day, you might find Stone pounding away at a keyboard in
sunny Florida, contemplating waves, contemplating life and dreaming
up more exciting stories to share with readers.
might even dub her a yarn spinner if you will. It's very possible she
might be considered just a little left of normal by most, but she's
cool with that. Really, she's too busy avoiding normal to care. On
any given day, you might find Stone pounding away at a keyboard in
sunny Florida, contemplating waves, contemplating life and dreaming
up more exciting stories to share with readers.
Except Sunday's of course. Sunday's are God's day, so you'll often find her
making her best "joyful noise" with her local church praise
team. When not pounding poor fingers to bloody nuggets and
reinventing the definition of eye strain, C.B. Stone enjoys living it
up, doing the family thing, the kid thing, and the friend thing.
And in her downtime, reading the minds of fans.
And in her downtime, reading the minds of fans.
Also being invisible. Being invisible is fun.
Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!
2 Comments
I enjoyed getting to know your book; congrats on the tour, I hope it is a fun one for you, and thanks for the chance to win :)
ReplyDeleteI liked the excerpt. Sounds like a good book.
ReplyDeletePlease try not to spam posts with the same comments over and over again. Authors like seeing thoughtful comments about their books, not the same old, "I like the cover" or "sounds good" comments. While that is nice, putting some real thought and effort in is appreciated. Thank you.