Girl of Glass
Girl of Glass, Book One
Megan O’Russell
Visit our website at www.MeganORussell.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Girl of Glass
Copyright © 2016, Megan O’Russell
Cover Art by X Potion Designs (https://www.x-potion.net/)
Editing by Christopher Russell
Interior Design by Christopher Russell
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Requests for permission should be addressed to Ink Worlds Press.
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Escape Into Adventure
Nola’s Journey Continues in Boy of Blood
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Girl of Glass
Girl of Glass - Chapter 13.5
Also by Megan O’Russell
Dedication
For Chris
Girl of Glass
Chapter One
Nola dug her fingers into the warm dirt. Around her, the greenhouse smelled of damp earth, mist, and fresh, clean air.
Carefully, she took the tiny seed and placed it at the bottom of the hole her finger had made.
Thump.
Soon the seed would take root. A sprout would break through to the surface.
Thump, bang.
Then the green stem would grow until bean pods sprouted.
Bang, thump!
The food would be harvested and brought to their tables. All of the families would be fed.
“Ahhhhh!” the voice came from the other side of the glass. Nola knew she shouldn’t look, but she couldn’t ignore the sounds any longer.
It was a woman this time, her skin gray with angry, red patches dotting her face. She slammed her fists into the glass, leaving smears of red behind. The woman didn’t seem to care as she banged her bloody hands into the glass over and over.
“Magnolia.”
Nola jumped as Mrs. Pearson placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t pay her any mind,” Mrs. Pearson said. “She can’t get through the glass.”
“But she’s bleeding.” Nola pushed the words past the knot in her throat.
The woman bashed her head against the glass.
“She needs help,” Nola said. The woman stared right at her.
Mrs. Pearson took Nola’s shoulders and turned her back to her plant tray. “That woman is beyond your help, Magnolia. Paying her any attention will only make it worse. There is nothing you can do.”
Nola felt eyes staring at her. Not just the woman on the other side of the glass. The rest of the class was staring at her now, too.
Bang. Thump.
Families. The food she planted would feed the families.
Bang.
Pop.
Nola spun back to the glass. Two guards were outside now. One held his gun high. A thin spike protruded from the woman’s neck. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment before she slid down the glass, leaving a streak of blood behind her.
“See,” Mrs. Pearson said, smoothing Nola’s hair, “they’ll take her where she can’t hurt herself or any of us ever again.”
Nola nodded, turning back to the tray of dirt. Make a hole, plant the seed, grow the food. But the streaks of blood were burned into her mind.
The setting sun gave the greenhouse an orange-red gleam when the chime finally sounded.
“Students,” Mrs. Pearson called over the sounds of her class packing up for the evening, “remember, tomorrow is Charity Day. Please dress and prepare accordingly. Anyone who doesn’t come ready to leave the domes will be sent home, and their grades will be docked.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pearson,” the students chorused as they drifted down into the hall.
“Magnolia.”
Nola pretended she hadn’t heard Mrs. Pearson call her name as she slipped in front of the group leaving the greenhouse. She didn’t want to be asked if she was all right or told the sick woman would be cared for. And she didn’t want to see if the glass had already been wiped clean.
Lights flickered on, sensing the group heading down the steps. Hooks lined the hallway, awaiting the gardening uniforms. Nola pulled off her rubber boots and unzipped her brown and green jumpsuit, straightening her sweater before shrugging out of the dirt-covered uniform. The rest of the class chatted as they changed—plans for the evening, talk of tomorrow's trip into the city. Nola beat the rest of them to the sink to scrub her hands. The harsh smell of the soap stung her nose, and the steaming water turned her hands red. But in a minute, the only sign of her time in the greenhouses that remained was a bit of dirt on the long brown braid that hung over her shoulder.
“Nola.” Jeremy Ridgeway took his place next to Nola at the sinks, shaking the dirt from his light brown hair like a dog. It would have been funny if Nola had been in the mood to laugh. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”
“Sure. It’s our duty to help the less fortunate.” She sounded like a parrot, repeating what their teachers said every time Charity Day came around. Nola turned to walk away.
Jeremy stopped her, taking her hand.
“Are you okay?” Wrinkles formed on his forehead, and concern filled his deep brown eyes.
“Of course.” Nola forced herself to smile.
“Do you want to come over tonight?” Jeremy asked, still holding her hand. “I mean”—his cheeks flushed—“my sister and my dad are off-duty tonight, and she hasn’t seen you in a while.”
“I’ve got to get home. My mom leaves tomorrow. But tell your dad and Gentry I said hi.” Nola pulled her hand away and half-ran down the hall. More lights flickered on as she sped down the corridor. She made herself breathe, fighting her guilt at running away from Jeremy. She liked being in the greenhouses better than the tunnels that dug down into the earth. There might only be a few feet of dirt on top of her, but knowing it was there pressed an impossible weight on her lungs.
The hum of the air-filtration system calmly buzzed overhead. The solar panels aboveground generated power so she could breathe down here. She pictured the schematics in her head. Lots of vents. Great big vents. The air would be filtered, cleaned and purified, and the big vents would bring oxygen down to her.
Blue paint on the wall read Bright Dome above an arrow pointing to a corridor on the left. Nola ran faster, knowing soon she would be aboveground. In a minute she was sprinting up the steps. She took a deep, gulping breath. The air in the tunnels might be the same as the air in the domes, but it felt so different.
The s
un had set, leaving only the bright lights of the city across the river and the faint twinkle of the other domes to peer through the glass. Nola squinted at the far side of Bright Dome. The other homestead domes glowed gently, but if she tried, she could almost make out a few stars. At least that’s what she told herself. It might only have been wishful thinking.
Tall trees reached almost to the roof of Bright Dome. Grass and wildflowers coated the ground around the stone footpaths that led from house to house. Nola followed the path through the buildings to the far side of the dome. Twelve families shared Bright Dome, each of them lucky enough to have been granted independent housing units.
The trees in the dome hung heavy with crisp, green leaves. The flowers had begun to close their petals for the night. A squirrel darted past Nola’s feet.
“A little late getting home, buddy.” Nola’s pulse slowed with each step closer to home.
The birds were all flying back to their nests. Bright Dome had been assigned robins and blue jays this cycle. The birds and the squirrels shared their home to be kept safe from contamination. The domes provided them all protection from the toxic air and tainted water.
The lights were on in Nola’s house as she swung open the door.
“Hey, Mom,” Nola called.
“Mmmmhmmm.” The sound came from her mother’s office in the back of the kitchen.
“How was your day?” Nola pulled the pot of steaming vegetables from the stove, knowing they would be overdone without having to lift the lid.
“Fine,” her mother said, running her fingers through her shoulder-length, chestnut hair, which had been graying quickly of late. “We’ve been running samples in the lab all day.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Nola didn’t ask what the problem in the lab was. Her mother, Lenora Kent, was one of the heads of the botanical preservation group. It was their job to decide what plants from the outside needed to be preserved and how to take care of those plants once they were safely inside the domes. Whatever her mother was working on was for the good of them all. Beyond that it was all vague answers about classified projects.
Nola pulled bowls down from the cabinet, dishing out steamed beans and broccoli, adding spices to make the food taste like something real.
Nola pushed the bowl in front of her mother. Only when she put the spoon in Lenora’s hand did her mother seem to notice Nola was still in the room.
“How was your day, sweetie?” Lenora looked up at her daughter.
Nola’s mind flashed to the woman. Pounding on the glass, shattering the serenity of the greenhouse.
“It was fine.” Nola smiled. “Don’t forget to pack for the conference. It’ll be colder at Green Leaf, so pack your sweaters.”
“Of course.” Lenora nodded, but she was already looking back at the charts on her computer screen.
Nola carried her dinner up the narrow stairs to the second floor. She crept into her mother’s room and found the duffel bag under her bed. Nola pulled clothes out of the tiny closet. They were lucky. The residents of the domes hadn’t been forced into uniforms outside of work and school. Yet. That would come when there was no one left on the outside to work in manufacturing.
When she had counted out enough blouses and slacks for her mother’s week-long trip, Nola moved the suitcase to the head of the bed, where her mother would have to see it if she went to sleep that night. A picture in a carved wood frame sat on the nightstand. Six faces beamed out of the photo. A ten-year-old version of herself sat in a tree above her mother and father. Kieran sat on the branch next to her, and below him were his parents.
Nola touched her father’s face, wishing the photo was larger so she could properly see his bright blue eyes that had matched her own. But her father was dead, killed in the same riot as Kieran’s mother. And now Kieran and his father had been banished from the domes. The photo blurred as tears pooled in Nola’s eyes.
She slid the picture into the top of her mother’s bag. Lenora would need a bit of home during the Green Leaf Conference—even if their family had broken.
Nola snuck across the tiny landing at the top of the stairs and into her room. She climbed straight into bed, leaving her dinner forgotten on her desk. She pushed her face into her pillow, hoping sleep would come before the face of the woman desperate to get through the glass.
Chapter Two
The scent of stale vegetables filled Nola’s room when her lights flickered on the next morning. A faint beeping came before the computerized voice that said, “Reminder: today is Charity Day. Please dress in uniform, remember sun protection, pack I-Vent…”
“Yeah, yeah.” Nola rubbed her eyes.
“Remember,” the computer continued, “charity must be done to ease the suffering of those on the outside, but protecting yourself means the salvation of mankind.”
“I said, I got it!” Nola tossed her shoe at the wall.
Her mother’s bedroom door was open, and the kitchen was empty. “Have fun at your conference, Mom,” Nola muttered to the empty house as she ran out the door.
It was easier to go through the tunnels in the morning, when she knew sunlight filled the domes above, but still, Nola walked as quickly as she could without being glared at by the people she passed.
The bus into the city would leave from the atrium, the only place in the domes with an exit to the outside world. Five-minute walk underground, then in the outside for four hours, then class, then to the greenhouses. Nola made the list in her mind.
Not too bad. I can get through today.
“Nola!” a voice called from behind her.
Nola slowed her step without looking back.
A moment later, Jeremy walked at her side.
“You ready for this?” Jeremy’s voice bounced with excitement.
“Yep.” Nola held up her wide brim hat and gloves before patting the I-Vent in her back pocket. “Ready for a trip into the dangerous world. How could I not be with PAM’s help this morning?”
“So, your computer got a little snarky with you, too?” Jeremy smiled. “I love how it gives us the 'greater good' speech before we go out and try to help people.”
Nola shrugged. She wanted to say, How much good do you think doling out one meal a month to the people we deem worthy of our assistance really does? But Jeremy looked so hopeful she couldn’t bear to disillusion him before they had to look the outsiders in the face.
“If we get on the bus soon enough, we can call the good jobs.” Jeremy took her hand and pulled her, running down the corridor.
Nola laughed as she tried to keep up, her voice echoing through the hall. People turned to stare at them, but that only made Jeremy run faster.
Nola’s step faltered as she tried to keep up with Jeremy’s much longer stride. She laughed through her panting breath as they rounded a corner and darted past a group of their classmates.
“Last one to the bus scrubs the pans!” Jeremy shouted.
The green bus waited for them in the atrium. Mr. Pillion shook his head but didn’t bother hiding his smile as they skidded to a stop in front of the bus.
“Morning.” Nola pinched the stitch in her side.
“Good morning, Magnolia. Jeremy.” Mr. Pillion’s puffy white hair bounced as he nodded.
Nola bit her lip. He always reminded her of one of the snowy white sheep from the Farm Dome. Images of the farm workers sheering Mr. Pillion’s hair floated through her mind.
“I’d like to take ladle duty.” Jeremy turned to Nola.
Nola didn’t really care what job she had. Being out there and seeing the outsiders was terrible. Did it really matter if she scrubbed pans, too? But Jeremy stared at her, eyebrows raised.
“Ladle for me, too, please,” Nola said.
Jeremy smiled and moved to pull Nola onto the bus.
“Wait,” Mr. Pillion said, holding out a hand. “One dose each from the I-Vent before we get on the bus.”
“But we don’t use them till we’re on the road,” Nola said.
The I-Vents cleared their lungs of the smog that hung heavy over the city. There was no reason to use them in the pure air of the domes.
“There was a riot last night.” Mr Pillion’s usually cheerful face darkened. “There’s still smoke in the air, so we need to be more cautious.”
Nola pulled the I-Vent from her back pocket. Holding the metal cylinder to her lips, she took one deep breath, letting the vapor pour over her tongue. The medicine tasted metallic and foul. She shivered as the mist chilled her throat. Nola pictured the drugs working. Finding all of the impurities in her lungs and rooting them out. Forming a protective layer to keep the toxins from seeping deep into the tissue.
“Good.” Mr. Pillion nodded, lowering his arm and allowing them onto the bus.
A line of other students had formed behind them now.
“Everyone. One puff of the I-Vent before you can get on the bus,” Mr. Pillion called to the crowd. “No, Nikki, you cannot get on the bus without your hat.”
“That girl is going to fail again this year,” Jeremy whispered as a girl with bright blond hair ran back to the tunnels.
A few of their classmates had beaten them onto the bus. Their class was for ages fifteen through eighteen. Some aged into the next group before others, but really they had been together since they were little, the younger ones rejoining the older ones when they moved to the next age level. They had all split into groups of friends years ago, and nothing had changed besides their heights. Until Kieran left.
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