He leans forward, moving his lips close to my ear, and he’s all I can smell, all I can feel. His heart beats so strong and steady I feel it inside and melt as his breath burns my neck. Please don’t let my Deviance trigger.
“I was recruited into the Jecs.”
I jump back, alarm causing my heart to race more than Cal’s touch. Emotions spark the back of my eyes—anger, disbelief, betrayal. I don’t dare look at his eyes and instead stare at his feet. “Why would you do that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
I straighten and my head bangs the sky.
“Careful.” Cal reaches forward and his hand grazes my cheek. “I joined for a chance at a better future, a way out of the Pents.”
My breaths come more quickly, but I fight to hold myself together as emotions inflate and threaten to explode like a bomb. “The Junior Ethics Committee?”
His eyebrows draw closer together. “I know some of them are slimy and turn in their friends for petty crimes, but it doesn’t need to be like that. The committee’s a stepping-stone to a better life. If I work hard, I have a shot at Compliance Officer Training.” He grins. “Besides, I’ll just go after Deviants.”
I’ll just go after Deviants.
My stomach caves, my chest tightens. “But—” Words won’t come. My tongue’s dry. If he discovers my secret, I’m as good as exed.
Cal reaches for me, but lets his hand drop. “I thought you’d be happy. You took the M-Ap exams; I know you’re ambitious.” His jaw twitches and hurt builds in his eyes, before understanding flashes. “Is this about your father?” He takes my hand. “You must hate him.”
My gaze shoots straight for Cal’s eyes. “Hate him?” Cal’s right, mostly, but the man was my father, and it’s more complicated than that.
“Glory, your dad was a Deviant.” Cal’s voice is hard and deep. “He had to be exed.”
Nausea builds and pain crushes my chest as Cal’s revelation exposes then incinerates my dream of a normal life, my dream of being with him. My hand, slick with sweat, slides from his grip.
“Say something.” He looks worried.
“You’ll only turn in the dangerous Deviants, right?”
His head jerks. “They’re all dangerous. Part Shredder.”
“No one knows that for certain.” And the idea that I’m related to Shredders, might turn into one, is something I can’t let myself think. My nightmares are bad enough.
“Glory.” Cal’s voice takes on a patronizing tone. “You can’t deny history or science. The Deviants and Shredders both arrived when the earth died.”
I bite down on my lip. The earth didn’t die—not really—but over three generations ago it was buried in coarse dust from the asteroids and volcanic eruptions. In GT we learned that much of the world was burned, the rest of it buried. We learned how the dust kills normal humans. But some of the things we’re taught about life Before The Dust—like air travel and long-distance telephones—seem like science fiction, not history. And since discovering my Deviance, I no longer believe every word we were taught in GT.
No one knows why the dust killed most life on earth. No one knows why Shredders can feed off the dust, or why some people became Deviant, neither Normals nor Shredders. If someone does know, Management’s not telling. Everyone knows that neither Deviants nor Shredders existed BTD, and I shudder to think I might have DNA in common with Shredders.
“You won’t tell anyone I joined the Jecs, will you?” Cal’s forehead wrinkles. He’s clearly uncomfortable with my silence, and I wonder what he might do without reassurance.
“I won’t tell.”
“Good.” His shoulders relax. “Because if you told anyone, I’d have to kill you.” He laughs and lightly punches my arm.
I force a smile.
Cal leans forward and places his hands on his thighs. “The first thing they told us at Jecs orientation was, ‘Don’t tell anyone you’re in,’ but I had to tell you.”
Scout and Jayma approach and save me from asking why. I’m not sure I want to know. Scout’s got two rats by the tail, dripping blood, and Jayma’s face is even paler than normal. My mind spins. Cal, one of the Jecs? I wonder how far he’ll go with his role. Scout’s violating policy right now, and it’s reassuring that Cal doesn’t comment.
“Let’s head back down,” Scout says. “I’ve got to stash these at home before we go to the Hub.”
I break away from Cal to pick up my catch, but as I’m wrapping them in a scrap of cloth, he steps close.
“Do you know why I trust you? Only you?”
I flick my gaze to his eyes, then down, and draw a ragged breath. Only me.
My tongue feels thick. Conflicting emotions wage war inside me.
His head drops, his lips inches from my ear. “You won’t tell, right?”
I nod, my neck tense.
He exhales, his breath warm on my neck. “I knew you could keep a secret,” he whispers, “because you’ve got secrets, too.”
CHAPTER TWO
BLOOD RUSHES IN my ears, and I pull back, trying to control the rising terror. What does Cal know? My skin’s like ice, threatening to crack from too much pressure. If he knows I’m a Deviant, I’m as good as exed.
He touches my arm. “Don’t worry. I won’t report him.”
“Who?”
“Your brother.”
My throat closes; my ears fill. It’s not me, but Drake who’s in danger. So much worse.
Tucking my wrapped rats against my body and zipping my jacket to hold them down, I head for the edge of the roof as calmly as I can, but it’s all I can do not to run, to get far away from Cal. As I climb down the rope that provides roof access, emotion-weighted questions buzz through my mind like the static on the Hub’s TV screens when dust infiltrates the cameras Outside.
We climb down the rope, one by one, then swing off and into a corridor in the top-level penthouse, where we live. I can’t look anyone in the eyes. I don’t dare.
“You boys go on ahead. Save us a place in line?” Jayma says. “I need to talk to Glory.” She turns to me, concern in her eyes, but I can’t look at her long—not while I’m feeling so much—though I’m touched that she’s sacrificing her plan to spend time with Scout for me.
“We can wait.” Cal’s concerned, too.
I shake my head, and flash a grin of reassurance. I can’t be around him yet. I need to calm down.
“We’ll follow after you boys.” Jayma’s voice is more forceful than I’ve ever heard it, and the boys shrug and leave.
“What’s wrong?” she asks once they’re gone.
I raise a finger to my lips, and she nods with understanding. Too many ears out here in the halls. My throat tightens. I thought Jayma was the only person who knew Drake survived and can’t believe she’d tell Cal. But if not her, then who? And what else does Cal know?
I can’t overreact. All I’m certain of is that Cal knows Drake’s alive. Perhaps nothing more. That’s bad enough, but when you’ve got an emotion-triggered curse, it doesn’t pay to imagine worst-case scenarios.
Jayma follows me down the narrow passageway leading to the small apartment I share with my brother. Because of his injury—not to mention his Deviance—he hasn’t reported for GT since our parents died, making him unemployed—a Parasite. Cal must know the Parasite part, and as a Jecs he’s supposed to report him. But if that’s his intent, then why tell me his secret? That would be cruel, and while I can’t fully trust him—or anyone—I know Cal’s not cruel.
Arms bent, I trail the palms of both hands along the corridor’s walls. One advantage of this location is that the Comps’ body armor barely fits through. They have to walk sideways.
Reaching our door, I banish my fear and all thoughts of Cal. “Do you mind waiting out here?” I ask Jayma, resting my hand on the bundle of rats under my jacket.
She shivers. “Sure. You know I hate blood.”
I push the door until it bumps up against the bracket I molded from scrap metal to p
revent the door from swinging wide enough to reveal my brother’s presence. Not that passersby are frequent in this narrow hall, but I can’t be too careful.
Slipping inside, I quickly shut the door. People claim that Before The Dust, the entire penthouse floor of this building was a single family’s dwelling and, supposedly, our apartment was used for clothing storage, but I find that hard to believe. Yes, there is a metal rung along the left side of the five-by-twelve-foot space and holes in the wall where a similar rung might have hung on the right, but even if those rungs were used for clothes, at least one person must have slept in here, too. It’s not possible that a sixty-square-foot space was wasted on storage.
Currently, 211 official residents—plus Drake—live on the thirty-second floor pent at the top of our building. Impossible to believe that one family lived alone in the nearly 5,000-square-foot space. Must have been one monstrous-sized family.
I lean against the wall behind the door, one of the only places not covered by nail-scratched drawings of faces and street scenes. My brother looks up from his book and says, “Hi.”
His appearance has changed these past months. Stronger lines have cut into his boyish looks, and his face is shifting and hardening like ice crystals on a water bucket. Overwhelmed by thoughts I might lose him, I dive down and pull him into a tight hug.
He pushes me back. “Stop with the mush.” He frowns but I can tell he’s not really mad, so I don’t scold him for using the electric light instead of the crank lantern. Our power rations will drain months before I’m scheduled to get more, but he’s stuck in this windowless room, so when our power dies I’ll get more points, even if I need to scrounge or steal.
I don’t mind being the one who has to do everything. I really don’t. But some days I do wish my brother could take care of me. Just for a short while. Just a few minutes. Just so I get a small break.
But there’s no sense in wishing for things that won’t happen, and right now I need to focus on hiding the fact that I’m scared for his life. I can’t share the danger until I develop a plan.
“Look,” I whisper and hold up the rats. “I’m going to the Hub for rations, but later we’ll have a feast.”
“I’ll skin them while you’re gone.” Drake uses his strong upper body to shift himself over on the mattress and then pulls his atrophied legs to follow. “I’m starved.”
Me, too, and I wonder how much longer we’ll be able to live on half rations supplemented by contraband rat. By some miraculous error, my brother’s employee number disappeared from the HR database right after our father was expunged. Drake’s relief when he realized the Comps wouldn’t come for him right away was replaced by fear that he wouldn’t get food, so I lied and told him that Resources & Allocations still had him recorded in their rations database. They don’t.
“Maybe they’ve upped your rations.” I try to sound hopeful as I shift to sit beside him and bump our shoulders. “You’re almost a man—nearly fourteen.”
“Not for seven months.”
“Can’t have you getting scrawny.” I poke him in the ribs, and he retaliates, poking me under the arm. I squirm away, swatting his hand and laughing. “You need more food. They must be crazy in R&A not to give you more. I’ll lodge a complaint.”
His laughter vanishes. “Stop pretending. I know.”
“Know what?” I reach over to smooth the blanket on his lumpy mattress.
“I know I don’t get any rations.”
My stomach tightens. “Of course you do.” I stand and check our water supply to make sure I don’t need to go down two floors to the tap before I go out. Then I peek into our tin waste bucket. Thank Haven it’s empty, because lugging that thing down two floors is my least favorite chore. We’re luckier than some to have a human waste–collection center and water so close, but waiting in line to empty the bucket can take hours.
“I’m not a baby,” Drake says. “I know how things work. I’m a Parasite. I don’t work. I’m not in training. I don’t get rations. We split yours.”
The back of my throat pinches, and I wait for it to pass before looking into his eyes. Every week I’ve given him a larger share of my rations without hesitation or comment, and I’m surprised to learn that he’s known all along. Who knew Drake could keep secrets?
His fingers brush my hand. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For taking care of me, like Mom used to.”
The word Mom takes the strength from my legs. I drop down to sit, and he slings an arm over my shoulders.
“Remember how she used to tell us stories in the dark? I miss that.”
“Me, too.”
“Tell me one?”
I shake my head. As hard as I try, I can’t replace our mom. I can’t make up stories—not like she could—and I realize how lucky I am to have had a mother for nearly three years longer than Drake. I was thirteen when she died.
“Come on.” He squeezes my shoulders. “You tell great stories.”
I jump up. “I need to go. Jayma’s waiting.”
His upper body straightens and his chin lifts. “She’s here?” His voice is so filled with hope that I consider letting her in. Other than me, Drake never talks to anyone, and I can’t remember the last time I let Jayma visit.
“She’s in the hall.”
His expression collapses. “She didn’t want to come in?”
It’s more than I can bear, so I open the door a crack and invite her inside. As she enters, a huge smile spreads on Drake’s face, and he checks his gloves and the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt to make sure his skin will be covered should his nerves attack and reveal his Deviance.
“Hi, Jayma.” His whisper is scratchy, and he pushes dark hair from his forehead. I must remember to cut it.
“Hi, Drake.” She returns his smile, and his face brightens as if he’s made of electric lights—the bright kind like they have at the Hub.
Oh, no. Clearly my brother is smitten, and I realize I’ve never told him how Jayma likes Scout. How will I tell him and not crush his heart?
Jayma and Drake make small talk, and when she praises his latest drawings on the lower parts of our walls, he beams then pushes down to lift himself, shifting closer to Jayma.
“Have you spent time on your belly today?” I ask.
He darts his eyes toward my friend.
“Okay,” I say. “As soon as we leave, then. You don’t want another—” I stop myself from saying bedsore. Being embarrassed in front of Jayma is one more side effect of his getting older.
“Still no feeling in your legs?” Jayma bites her lower lip and looks down.
Drake uses his upper body to move again, as if hoping to impress her with his relative mobility. “My legs are as useless as the day it happened.” His cheeks flush.
Jayma slides her shoe along the floor. “It’s so horrible to think that your dad—”
“He didn’t do it.” Drake’s voice is too loud, and I turn toward the closed door, hoping beyond all hope that no one beyond it heard him.
“Then who did?” Jayma crouches to meet him eye to eye. “Was there someone besides your family in the room?” The excitement in her voice sounds as if she thinks she’s cracked the case, and I want to tell her to give it up. There’s no mystery.
Drake looks away. It must have been horrible to witness Mom’s murder—our father knocked me unconscious, so at least I didn’t have to see it happen—but I’m losing patience with my brother. His outburst, claiming our father’s innocence, rakes my nerves.
Drake’s in denial. Too young then to face the fact that our father turned against our family. Too optimistic now to believe his own Deviance might someday hurt someone he loves. He’s old enough to discuss what he saw, but I don’t push it, not with Jayma in the room.
She’s still waiting for Drake to answer, and his obvious tension fuels mine. I rub my ring. “We should go.”
“I wish you could come with us.” Jayma reaches out to touch Drake’s arm,
but he pulls back. Clearly he doesn’t trust his nerves around her. I get that. I’ve got the same problem with Cal.
Jayma has no idea why Drake can’t let her touch him. At least I can trust her to protect his other secret. Jayma knows better than anyone what would happen if Drake’s disability were discovered. Failing to report an injury or illness is almost as bad as being Deviant.
“You should visit more often,” I say to distract her from his reaction. “You’re the only one who knows he’s here.” And if it wasn’t she who told Cal, how in the world does he know?
“Would you like me to visit again?” Jayma rises from her crouch. She’s smiling again, and I can only assume she’s written off my brother’s flinch as a by-product of too much isolation. If she follows through on visiting more, I’ll figure out a way for him to wear something thick enough to prevent her from feeling through the fabric should his skin change to armor.
“Let’s go.” I tug on Jayma’s arm. “People won’t let us join the ration line if the guys have been waiting too long.”
“You’re right,” Jayma says. “See you again soon, Drake.”
“Great.” He waves, puppy love radiating through his expression.
Jayma and I walk in silence through the building’s narrow passageways—some formed by solid walls from the original structure and some literally paper thin. The only topics on either of our minds are ones we can’t broach with our neighbors close by. Everyone suspects that Management has spies living in the Pents, and now that Cal’s joined the Jecs, I know that it’s true. There’s at least one spy, one traitor, in our midst. Not to mention the Comps’ cameras, but I’m confident most are broken.
Compliance tries to make us believe they’re still watching, but most of the cameras, except near the Hub or Management buildings, don’t move. Given how they’ve cut the rations for the rest of us, it’s fitting that Management’s suffering a few shortages, too.
After walking down sixteen flights of stairs, crowded with families who live on the landings, Jayma and I step through a narrow floor-to-ceiling gap, then start across a long suspension bridge to the roof of an adjacent building. Our route to the Hub isn’t the shortest or safest—this bridge tends to sway—but it’s the fastest. Less traffic than the surface.
Deviants (The Dust Chronicles) Page 2
