Gently squeezing the blood vessels flowing into her brain, I concentrate on her thoughts, the waves of brain activity, and carefully, I slow them.
Her eyes remain wide as the waves and sparks in her mind slow. Then her body crumples, and I catch her under her arms to help her lie down.
What have I done? I don’t have time to think about it now.
I open the hatch and scramble down the ladder, releasing the catch that lowers the final twenty feet.
The Shredder is where I left her, mercifully alone. My hands shake as I release her from the tree and get us ready to move.
We need to be fast.
Chapter Eight
THE PINE FOREST’S pungent scent invigorates me, and I’m almost tempted to remove the rope between the Shredder’s ankles so we can move more quickly.
She trips over a root and falls to her knees. She scrambles over the ground, probably searching for dust in the pine needles. I tug on the rope. “Get up.”
She looks up at me with hate in her eyes, and it helps remind me which one of us is the monster. Yes, I might be a killer, but I only kill when I need to. Only in self-defense or to protect those I love. And I don’t enjoy it, like Shredders do. If I were a true monster, this Shredder would already be dead.
I tug again. “It’s not much farther. Cooperate and I’ll give you some dust.” The promise gets her to her feet. She strains and snarls against her gag, but she follows.
We pass the boulder where Drake was showing off for Jayma, and then we follow the marked trees until the woods clear, and I see the stone walls of the ruins rising before us. The moon is lower now, and although the stars are fading with the hint of dawn, the night seems darker, and the building looks like a mass of creatures reaching out from the rock.
I lead the Shredder to the secret room we found, and I realize that I’m going to need both hands to open the door.
Not far from us, I discover a stone impaled in the ground outside the structure. It might once have formed the base of a window. I kick it to test its sturdiness. On my third kick, I conclude it’s dug in enough to hold the Shredder. I loop the rope around it and tie several tight knots.
“Wait here,” I tell her. She rushes after me, but when she hits the end of the rope, she tugs without budging the stone.
I set down the hatchet beside the metal door and tug on the ring. With a loud creak the door opens. The Shredder groans behind her gag, and I can’t help it—I’m feeling a bit sorry for her. Not long ago, she was a Haven employee, the mother of a young girl who needed safe passage out of the dome. What happened to you? I wonder. I hope I can find out.
When I turn back, she’s fumbling with the knots. “Hey!” I shout, and she backs away from the stone.
I untie the rope and lead her to the stairs. “Go down.”
She shakes her head.
“Now.” I pick up the hatchet.
She eyes me for a few moments as if weighing her options, then starts down the stairs. Halfway down, she stumbles, and I’m yanked forward.
I lose my footing. The hatchet’s head swings down, missing her back by inches and clanging as it strikes the metal stairs.
My heart thuds as I regain my grip and imagine the damage the blade could have done.
Taking advantage of my vulnerability, she jerks the rope out of my hands and jumps down the final few stairs. The glow from her eyes lights the small room as she spins, looking for a way out. But I’m on the stairs, blocking the exit and wielding the hatchet.
She’s clearly as freaked out by this tiny underground space as I was yesterday—as I still am now. I creep forward slowly until I’m a few feet from the end of the rope. I reach for it.
She sees the pile of skeletons and shrieks. She spins and the rope flies away before it’s in my grasp.
Enough.
I lunge, plant my foot on the rope, and then grab it.
She tugs but I wrap the rope around my hand, refusing to let go even as the rope burns my skin. I drag her until I’ve got her inside the metal cage. Something crunches underfoot. I look down. A skull.
I jump to the side. The Shredder’s eyes glow bright as she pulls on the rope and it pinches my fingers. Looking into her eyes, I concentrate and latch onto her gaze. I knock her unconscious. She slumps to the ground, landing on the rib cage of one of the skeletons.
Grasping her under the arms, I drag her to the side of the cage and lean her against the bars. After spotting a series of heavy pegs sticking out of the wall nearby, I toss the end of the rope through the bars, run to the outside of the cage, and bind the rope around two pegs. She’s still got about four feet of slack. I don’t think she can reach the door of the cage, but just in case, I need something to secure the latch.
I pull out my crank torch and creep over to the shelves beside the stack of tin cylinders. Covering my nose and mouth with a dust mask, I sort through the items on the shelves.
A moldy book falls apart in my hands. Then I pry the lid off a tin box with the word Photographs written on top. Gasping, I sort through the contents, looking at faded images of people. People who are smiling and laughing in a world I barely recognize as our own.
The Shredder stirs and I turn. The patch of sky visible through the hatch is getting brighter. I quickly check the other shelves and spot what I need: an ancient locking device I recognize from the time that Burn and I spent trapped in Fort Huron.
A key sticks out from a hole in the main part of the device, and holding my breath, I turn it.
It clicks, and I tug on the arch at the top, and one side lifts from its hole. Perfect.
I hurry back to the cage door, secure the locking device, and then stash the key in my pocket. But I can’t afford to lose it, so instead, I place the key on the highest shelf I can reach, right in the center. The Shredder moans.
She needs dust. I need information. The first chance I get, I’ll be back.
The morning light urges me to run faster, and as I climb back to the ridge, my legs and lungs burn. The searchlight’s still pointing down to the side, so I assume Gwen’s still unconscious.
I sprint the last few hundred yards, then leap onto the ladder and climb. I’m panting, and my heart rate’s through the roof by the time I pull myself onto the floor of the tower. Gwen is still lying where I left her, eyes open.
I cringe. The least I could have done was close her eyes. They’re going to be dry and sore when I wake her. Assuming I can wake her.
Lying down next to her, I focus on her eyes, but it’s hard to concentrate. My pulse is too rapid, my breathing too fast, my anxiety too high. I put my hand on her shoulder to steady myself, and I try again.
This time my power builds easily, and I lock onto her slow-moving brain waves. She’s dreaming.
Dreaming of swimming and holding on to a small child with curly blond hair. She tosses the child, a three-year-old boy, into the air. The boy laughs as his mother catches him and holds him close.
Gwen is a mother. What have I done? I am a monster.
Wake up! I think, and I concentrate on increasing the blood flow, loosening all the holds I put on her mind. Experimenting this way—with someone’s mind, someone’s life—I’m no better than Mrs. Kalin.
Gwen blinks. Then she closes her eyes tightly for a few seconds before opening them again.
I touch her hand. “Wake up.”
“What happened?” She brings her other hand up to her head. “Did I fall?”
I nod. It’s the truth, but it feels like a lie.
She pushes up on one elbow. “It’s already light? How long was I out?” Her eyes fill with worry. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“No, I won’t tell.” I do my best to look calm as I help the guard to her feet.
“Thank you.” She squeezes her eyes shut again. “And thanks for keeping watch.” She puts her hands on her belly. “I’ve been light headed lately, but I’d like to stay working as far into this pregnancy as I can. I have a feeling it’s another boy.”
“You’re pregnant?” I blurt the words way too loudly and feel rude and ashamed all at once. I could have hurt her. I could have killed Gwen and her baby. Something inside me trembles.
She pats my back. “What’s wrong?” She looks at me knowingly. “Oh. You lost your mother in Haven, didn’t you?”
I close my eyes, and she sweeps her palm down my cheek. “If you ever need anything, you let me know, okay?”
I try to smile, but I’m drowning in guilt, and her words are too much like Mrs. Kalin’s offer, when she tried to adopt me.
“If you ever have any questions,” Gwen says, “or problems that, you know, you’d rather not discuss with your dad—”
“Thanks,” I cut in and force another quivering smile. “I’d better get home.”
“Okay.” She sits with her hands on her belly again.
I wince. “Are you really okay?”
She stretches. “I actually feel better after getting some sleep. Thank you so much for helping me out and for keeping my secret.” She winks. “Tonight, I’ll remember to bring more food so I won’t get so weak. It’s not like me to pass out. This pregnancy . . .”
I open the door to the ladder.
“You’re a good kid, Glory,” she says. “And remember. Stop by to visit me anytime. I live in one of the cottages down by the cornfields.”
“Thanks,” I call back as I scramble down the ladder, feeling like I’m descending into shame.
Chapter Nine
AS I’M RUSHING from the tower, a dried branch cracks under my foot, and the sound seems a hundred times louder than it probably is.
I stop and crouch. But there’s no indication anyone heard. I continue.
“For someone sneaking around,” a deep voice says, “you’re making a lot of noise.”
It’s Burn, but where is he?
He steps from behind a thick pine bough. “What are you doing out here?” he asks.
Although his clothes are dark and they blend into the surroundings, I can’t believe I didn’t see him standing there. I glance around, wondering what else I might have missed. Did anyone see me going up to the guard tower? Did Burn?
I hold the hatchet in both hands. “Are you following me?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Neither did you.”
His voice is gruff, but as he steps into the light, I can see that his dark eyes are teasing.
“I snuck past the guard tower twice,” I say. “This place is defenseless without the army. When is your FA unit due back from Fort Huron?”
“It depends on whether they stick to just talking.”
“I thought you said they were negotiating? Do you think there might be a battle?”
Burn’s thick eyebrows draw closer together. “Hard to say. That place was a military base BTD. Fighting is in their blood.”
I nod. Those Fort Huron people are brutal. “My dad’s not with that unit, is he?”
“Hector’s not there.”
Holding on to the ax head, I let the handle swing down to my side.
“Why were you down on the beach?” Burn asks.
“Why were you there?” I shoot back.
“Cal and I figured out how the Shredders came down the cliff.”
I step forward. “Really? How?”
“Someone drove spikes into the rock and strung chains between them. It takes some upper body strength, but both Cal and I scaled the cliff easily once we found the route.”
“Wow.” It’s amazing to me that the two of them worked together on this—on anything. “Shredders did that?”
“Or someone did it for them.” He scratches his head. “Are you positive those Shredders came from Haven?”
“I saw flashes of the Hospital in that Shredder’s mind. Images of people doing experiments.”
“What kind of experiments?”
“Mrs. Kalin’s trying to find the limits of the dust. She claims she’s searching for a cure so that Normals can live safely Outside.”
“You don’t believe her.”
“I don’t think that’s all she’s doing. Especially if she’s making Shredders.” I rub the goose bumps on my arms. “What if she can plant thoughts in Shredders’ minds? What if she sent them to find us?”
“That seems unlikely. No one knows where we are.”
“With so many FA soldiers in Haven right now, she could have easily convinced someone to tell her where we are.”
Burn’s jaw tenses. “Then more Shredders could come. Or Comps.”
“And with the FA gone, we’re in trouble.” My stomach churns. “I should have killed Mrs. Kalin when I had the chance.”
“You couldn’t have known what she’d do.”
I wish he were right, but I knew Mrs. Kalin was capable of this. I knew she had to die; I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not after what I did to my mother. I slump, shaking my head.
Burn pulls me to his chest. Engulfed in his embrace, I can no longer think clearly. I no longer want to. My ear presses against the thud-thud-thud of his heart, and I grab on to the collar of his coat as if letting go would mean drowning.
But instead, I’m drowning in the scent of Burn, in the heat, in the feelings I’ve tried so hard to suppress. It’s been so long since I’ve been in his arms, and the memories tug inside me, waking pieces of myself that I’ve worked hard to ignore.
Burn draws a ragged breath, then pushes me back.
The cold air snakes between us, and I raise my gaze to join his. His expression’s pained, almost angry. He drops his hands to his sides and puts more distance between us.
“It’s okay, Burn, we can—”
“No. We can’t. I won’t. Never again.”
I swallow hard, but my mouth is so dry I’m not sure I can respond. I wish I could believe that this is someone impersonating Burn again. Zina, a Deviant with that ability, fooled me once by pretending to be Burn. But I know it’s not her now. I recognized his smell, the beat of his heart.
I know he doesn’t want to hurt me, but does he realize that his pushing me away hurts, too?
Burn’s quiet for a long time, looking down, avoiding my gaze. Unable to bear the silence, I part my lips but discover I have no words.
He drags a boot along the ground. “When you locked onto me with your Gift”—his voice is hoarse—“when I was the monster . . .” His words fade out and his face reddens. “You heard that Shredder’s thoughts . . . Did you hear mine?”
I don’t want to answer. I didn’t hear his thoughts, but the things I sensed in his mind were angry, ugly, terrifying. I can’t tell him that.
“When I’m locked onto you,” I reply, “can you hear my thoughts? Because yesterday, during that battle, it felt like you understood me.”
His eyes widen. “I felt you. You calmed me down.” He squeezes his forehead. “And that day when we got out of Haven. Up on that balcony—”
“You felt me then, too?”
He nods. I suspected as much, but suddenly my heart’s too big for my chest. Looking into his eyes, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so understood, so connected to someone, so much a part of someone. I step toward him.
He steps back and looks down. “Do you know what I’m thinking right now?” He’s clearly horrified at the thought.
“No.” I grab his arm. “No. It’s only when I’m using my Deviance, and even then I don’t really hear you.”
“But you heard those Shredders.”
“It’s not the same with you. I don’t know why.”
“Can you plant thoughts in my mind?”
“No!” I shudder. “I am not like Mrs. Kalin. I can’t make you think anything. I only tried to calm you down.”
He frowns.
“Burn, I—”
A bell sounds from the lookout tower. Three rings followed by a pause. The pattern repeats.
“More Shredders?” I ask.
A grin spreads on his face. “No. My FA unit is back.”
Chapt
er Ten
STANDING AT THE head of the ridge, I scan the crowds as the FA unit files by. Burn took off to find Rolph, the FA Commander, and tell him about the Shredder attack. Awakened by the bell, others have rushed up the hill from Concord, and each reunion amps up my urge to see my father.
When I’m sure that the last of the unit has passed, I slump against a tree trunk. Burn already told me that Dad wasn’t with his unit, but I hoped somehow he was wrong. Drake insists that he doesn’t know which FA unit our dad is with, either, but I’m starting to suspect he’s lying to me—again.
I stomp down the hill, looking for Drake. My little brother is going to tell me the truth if I have to latch onto his mind to hear it.
If Dad’s with the units fighting in Haven, I can no longer keep to the sidelines. I have no idea what’s happened inside the dome in the two weeks since the FA invaded. No one has come back. I wish I had some way to know—
I stop short, then turn to run back up the hill. I do know someone who might have been inside Haven since the FA invasion, and I need to get into that Shredder’s mind to find out what else she knows.
As soon as I lift the door, I see the glow cast by the Shredder’s eyes.
“Let me out!” she shrieks. I almost stumble on the stairs as I cover my ears. “You can’t keep me trapped here.”
I jump down the last steps and shine my torch in her direction. She covers her face and cowers in the corner, stretching to the far end of her rope. She’s huddled on top of the pile of skeletons as if they don’t bother her at all.
I direct the light downward. She’s too far away for me to make eye contact, so I retrieve the key from the shelf and then slowly open the cage door. The metal bars are cold and the hinges creak. She doesn’t move.
As I step into the cage, I try to calculate the exact length of her rope. I need to get close, but not too close.
She leaps up and rushes toward me, wielding a leg bone.
Glory Page 6
