Glory

by Maureen McGowan

  Even though it’s the middle of the night, I can’t risk going to the armory—someone usually sleeps there—but I need something I can use to defend myself, and also something to contain the Shredder. The cloth bandages won’t be strong enough.

  The hospital is in the lower part of Concord, near the water. I dash through the streets, keeping to shadows when I can. On the outskirts, I head into the barn that houses dairy cows and goats. The animals remain quiet as I gather what I can find: a coil of rope and a hatchet in a holster that I strap around my waist.

  Whoever owns the hatchet is bigger than I am, so I can’t fasten the holster using the buckle, but I manage to secure it by tying the straps in a knot. A cow bellows.

  I start, still not used to the sound, but I get out of the barn and away from the settlement without running into another person.

  The nearly full moon casts a cool light that sparkles off the calm surface of the lake. The pebbles crunch and slide as I run alongside the water toward the wall of boulders where I left the Shredder. It’s been more than eight hours, and I expect she’s long gone, but I need to check.

  When I near the barricade, I slow my pace, trying to lessen the noise of my footsteps; but try as I might, it seems impossible to walk silently on this pebbled surface. The cliff looks even higher in the moonlight, and I understand why Burn and the others didn’t think this border was at risk. How in the world did the Shredders get here without going through the pass we use? If we’re going to defend this place, someone needs to figure it out. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.

  A shadow moves near the top of the boulders. I stop and listen. Something shuffles.

  It has to be her. She’s still there, and she’s awake.

  Before I climb, I unsnap the holster and remove the hatchet. The shuffling sound increases. Nearing the top of the wall, I raise the weapon. If I can’t capture her gaze right away, I’ll swing. I turn the hatchet so that I’ll be striking with the blunt side, not the blade.

  I’m shocked to find her in the exact same position, and the noise isn’t coming from her but from some kind of animal I’ve never seen before. It’s got a pointed nose and black around its eyes, almost like a mask, and a long tail with rings of gray and white. It reminds me of the rats I used to kill on the rooftops of Haven, but it’s much larger than a rat; and although its coat is matted and worn off in places, this creature has much thicker fur.

  Sensing me, it rises up on its hind legs and bares its teeth—brown and broken. Its paws almost look like fingers, its eyes are crazed, its lips dark and dry. This large rodent or small bear—whatever it is—has gone mad on dust. Whatever it was at birth, it’s now a Shredder-animal. It snarls again and I try to catch its gaze, but it skitters across the boulders toward me.

  I swing the hatchet, and the blunt side strikes the side of its head. It falls near the Shredder woman.

  One side of its head is crushed but it’s still breathing, and from a certain angle it’s almost . . . cute. BTD, some humans kept animals as pets—loved them—and I wonder if this strange masked animal was the pet kind.

  I can’t feel sorry for it.

  Avoiding its body, I climb over the rocks and look at the female Shredder. She’s halfway on her side, with one leg slightly bent over the other. She’s still asleep. Or dead.

  When I was in Haven, I managed to awaken a rat that I’d knocked unconscious. That part of my Deviance is as mysterious to me as crushing hearts or lungs used to be.

  I shake her. Nothing. I flick her cheek. Still nothing, except that I’m grossed out at the crusty feeling of her skin. Gagging, I push open one of her eyelids. I reach to open the other but realize that if I’m going to wake her I should tie her up first.

  I’d prefer to have her hands behind her back, but both of them rest in front, so I pull her hands together. Using the hatchet, I saw off a length of rope and wrap it around her wrists, binding them tight.

  I move down to her ankles and tie them, too, leaving just enough rope that she’ll be able to take small steps but not run.

  I open her other eye and stare, trying to make contact with something inside her, the part that’s still alive in her consciousness. Nothing happens. Beside her, the Shredder-animal breathes. Other than its heaving chest, it hasn’t moved. I use the top of the hatchet blade to nudge its body farther away.

  It twitches.

  I jump back.

  The animal wakes, snarling and snapping. It lunges and digs its teeth into the ribs of the Shredder woman. She screams. If I ever had doubt that Shredders feel pain, apparently they do—at least while they’re being eaten.

  She twists and kicks, trying to get the animal off. Her eyes glow, casting eerie light. I’ve seen that Deviance before.

  I swing the hatchet, blunt end first, and slam it into the animal’s head.

  The creature flies to the side and smashes into the cliff. Yet, a moment later, it rises to its feet and springs toward me, foam dripping from blackened lips. I swing the hatchet.

  The blade strikes its neck, and the creature falls onto the rocks in two pieces. Dead at last.

  I look at the Shredder woman. Her eyes are glowing with bright-green light. A flash of recognition hits me.

  Arabella, the last Deviant kid I saved from Haven, had this same Deviance: green phosphorescent eyes. I’ve never heard of a parent and child having the exact same Deviance, but I wonder if this is her mother.

  The Shredder sucks in a sharp breath and grabs my arm with her bound hands. “You.” Her voice is scratchy.

  I wrench out of her grasp. She lunges toward me and snaps, her teeth missing my face by less than an inch.

  I kick her body as I scramble back and raise the hatchet. I lock onto her eyes, planning to squeeze her heart, but I blink and turn away. If I kill her, I won’t learn any more about how she got here.

  And if she recognizes me, this must be Arabella’s mother.

  “Dust.” She slams her bound hands against her forehead so hard I’m afraid she’ll knock herself out. “Now.” She leans forward. “Dust.” Thick, phosphorescent tears rise in her eyes and trail down her cheeks.

  I raise the hatchet again. “I’ll get you some dust, but you need to come with me. Quietly.”

  She looks down at her chest. “Who bit me?” She plasters her back against the rocks and scans around, eyes wide and shining. “Did she tell them to? Where am I?”

  “Who is she?” I ask. “An animal bit you. It’s dead now.”

  She kneels and scrapes the rocks with her fingers. “Dust. Need dust.” Her fingers grow raw and leave dark trails on the stone.

  “Stop it! You’re hurting yourself. There’s no dust between these rocks.”

  She looks up at me. The light in her eyes starts to fade, and I can make out her features better. Although she has the crazed look of a Shredder, her anguish is obvious. But I need to either kill her or leave. If we stay here much longer, someone might come, especially after what happened today.

  As if on cue, I hear voices down the shore toward Concord. I pull the cloth from my pocket.

  “Calm down,” I tell the Shredder. “Be quiet or I’ll hurt you.”

  She’s pawing at the gash in her chest and doesn’t acknowledge that she’s heard me. Moving quickly, I use the cloth to gag her. As she fights against me, her eyes glow again, but at least now she can’t scream.

  Forcing my knee into her back, I turn her to face the rocks so there’s less chance that whoever’s coming will see the glow from her eyes. The voices become clearer. I know who they belong to: Cal and Burn.

  Chapter Seven

  I HOLD DOWN the Shredder woman as the guys come closer. Even though we’re on the other side of the boulders, they’ll see her eyes glow.

  I tear a piece of cloth off the bottom of my shirt to blindfold her, then crawl up the boulders to peek over. Burn’s long coat flares as he strides, making him even more imposing. As they climb over the rock barrier, I move my body to better block the Shredder.
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  “Won’t you get in trouble for deserting your FA unit?” Cal asks.

  “Nah.”

  Moonlight glints off Cal’s hair as he shifts his gun and looks over at Burn. “Because they’re afraid of you?”

  The Shredder woman struggles, and a small rock rolls down from beneath her feet. I stop breathing.

  Burn halts. “Did you hear something?”

  Cal shakes his head, but Burn looks straight toward me. Rat dung! Burn’s wearing his night-vision goggles. The two of them stand still, scanning, listening. Even if Burn didn’t see me—which I’m sure he did—they’ll hear us breathing.

  “It was probably nothing,” Burn says.

  With my heart thumping against my ribs, I wait. Burn has decided, for whatever reason, not to tell Cal that he’s seen me.

  Cal turns to face the water. “Look at how the moon shines on the lake. I’m still not used to how beautiful everything is Outside.” Cal still says the word “outside” as if it’s a specific place, the way we all grew up saying it under the dome.

  Burn grunts and crosses his arms over his chest. Staring at the lake, the two remain quiet for so long that I start to wonder if it might be safe to reveal myself, but I can’t do that. I’m not sure about Cal, but I have no question what Burn will do. He’ll kill the Shredder and my opportunity to learn more.

  “So,” Cal breaks the silence, “you get big—really big. That’s your Deviance?”

  Burn shrugs.

  “What brings it on?”

  “Why? You afraid I’ll attack?” Burn’s tone is menacing, but I note a hint of humor, too.

  “Oh, I can handle you.” Cal swings his gun but his words sound mocking.

  “If you want to believe that,” Burn says. “Go ahead.”

  Cal laughs. Are they actually kidding around with each other?

  “You didn’t answer,” Cal says. “What brings it on? Is it the same as Glory? Emotions?”

  Burn drops his arms to his sides as if all his muscles stopped working at once. “Mine’s worse.”

  “How?”

  “Glory can control hers.” Burn shoves his hands into his pockets. “She’s like a sharpened knife, and I’m more like a sledgehammer. She’s a sniper rifle, and I’m the spray from a broken shotgun.”

  Burn turns slightly toward me—he knows I’m here—and I can’t decide what’s more surprising: that he’s talking to Cal like they’re friends, or that he’s leaving me alone. Has he noticed the Shredder behind me? I feel sure he can’t have seen her.

  “Glory thinks her Deviance makes her a bad person,” Cal says. “She acts like she’s defined by the things she’s done, even the things she did by accident. But I’ve known her most of her life. She’s not a bad person. She’s . . .” Cal runs a hand over his hair. “She’s complicated, but she’s the best person I know.”

  My mouth falls open.

  “Have you told her that?” Burn asks.

  “I’ve tried, but I think I make her feel worse,” Cal sighs. “When I think of all the things I said to her before I knew . . . I bought into the whole Deviants-are-evil line they fed us in Haven. I said some horrible things to her.” He shifts and tips his head back. “It’s no surprise that she doesn’t want to be with me anymore.” He turns to Burn. “Well, that and her feelings for you, I guess.”

  “Don’t put it on me,” Burn says. “Nothing’s happened between me and Glory. Nothing ever will.”

  His words hit like a hammer.

  “Really?” Cal leans away from Burn. “Why?”

  “I can’t be with her. It’s too dangerous. My Deviance comes out when I’m—when I’m around her. She has this crazy idea that I can control it, or that she can control me.” Burn laughs harshly. “I can’t be controlled.”

  Cal slaps Burn on the back. “Sorry. That’s rough.”

  They’re quiet—too quiet for my comfort—but they seem peaceful. As strange as it may be, I’m glad to see they’ve found a way to be friends—or whatever this is.

  “Let’s check along the cliff,” Burn says. “The other direction’s more secure, because of the gorge, but until today, we thought that this cliff was impossible to come down.”

  They head away from me. I stay still until I’m sure this isn’t some kind of trick on Burn’s part—that they aren’t turning back. But Burn has led Cal away so that I can leave. I wish I understood why.

  I need to move the Shredder. The room Drake found under those ruins would be perfect, but to get there, I’ll have to take her through Concord. Do I dare? It’s at least three hours before dawn, the settlement is quiet, and I really don’t have a choice.

  I remove her blindfold, then attach the last piece of rope to her bound hands like a leash.

  “Follow me.” I raise the hatchet. “If you keep quiet, I won’t kill you. And if you cooperate, I’ll get you some dust.”

  Moving through Concord is easier than I expected. Everyone’s asleep and there are no lights, not even a candle in any home we pass.

  Nearing the last bend in the road before the top of the ridge, I stop. The second we round this corner, the lookout could see us. We might make it to the top of the trail, given that the guard is likely facing away from the settlement, but if he or she is doing a halfway good job, we’ll be spotted the instant we start downhill. The pine forest there isn’t thick enough to hide us, especially not in this moonlight. If only there were some way to create a distraction.

  The Shredder woman tugs on her ropes, her eyes shining brightly, increasing the probability we’ll be seen. There’s only one option: I need to reason with the guard.

  I pull the Shredder to a tree and tie her to the trunk. It’s not perfect—far from it. Her eyes shine like beacons. If she struggles, she might get free, but her legs are still tied. I shorten the slack between her ankles to make sure she won’t get too far, too fast.

  Now for the hard part.

  Racking my brain for a plan, I walk toward the guard tower. Maybe I can convince the guard that I’m leading one of my friends and we’re playing a game? Or doing some kind of FA training exercise? From the tower, the floodlight cuts through the darkness and pans the forest below. They use a system that was used in lighthouses in ancient BTD times.

  The ladder is pulled up about twenty feet from the ground, so I drop my hatchet and wrap my hands around one of the four wooden bases of the tower. Placing one foot on the wood, I try to climb, but my shoes slip.

  There must be a way. I could just yell up, but that might draw the attention of someone other than the guard, and I’d have more than one person to convince.

  I stare at a pine tree a few feet away, and a streak on the bark glistens. Sap.

  I dash over to the tree, finding the most shadowed side, then take off my shoes and rub the soles on the sticky surface. I rub a little of the stickiness on my hands, too.

  I put on my shoes and try again. This time it works. I reach up with one hand, pressing my feet into the wood, and creep up the wooden leg of the tower. My shoes are almost too sticky—it’s slow going—but I move up until the bottom of the ladder’s in sight. Still, I can’t reach it. I’m going to have to jump.

  I push into a crouch, both hands gripping the post, and test that my feet aren’t completely stuck to the wood. Each of them pulls off with a tacky sound that makes me fear I’ll be heard.

  Using every ounce of strength, I leap up and back. Midflight, I twist 180 degrees and my arms slam into the ladder’s rungs. I slide and my chin bumps something. Pain shoots through my head.

  One rung, then a second, slips through my grasp. Then my hands hold. I have the ladder!

  I’m on the second-to-last rung, and my legs are dangling. My hands are still slightly tacky with pine sap. I rest for a moment, as much as I can while hanging from a ladder, and then pull myself up. My back muscles strain as my chin rises above the rung. I hook my arm over, then brace my forearm along the rung and press down until I can reach up and grab another rung. Three rungs up, I swin
g my legs to the bottom one and stand.

  I climb the ladder quickly until I realize I have one last complication: there’s no opening at the end of the ladder. I push at the hatch at the top, but while I can see hinges at one side, the wood doesn’t budge. Doing the only thing I can think of, I knock.

  “Who’s there?” a female voice asks.

  “Glory Solis.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yes.”

  I hear footsteps, then the sound of a bolt sliding. The door opens above me and a face comes into view. Or rather, a silhouette.

  I smile. “Hi. Sorry to bug you. I’ve always wanted to see the view.”

  “Now? At night?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Aren’t you one of the kids who fought off those Shredders today?”

  “Why do you think I can’t sleep?” I shudder, hoping she’ll think the experience gave me nightmares.

  “I’m Gwen.” She kneels down and offers me a hand. “How did you get to the ladder? Did I leave it down?”

  I shake my head as, with her help, I pull myself onto the floor of the lookout tower. “I’m a good climber. From living in the Pents—the penthouse slums of Haven.”

  “Oh.” Gwen closes the door after me, and I look straight into her eyes. I don’t have much time if I want to get back before sunrise.

  Now that I’m up here, I don’t have a clue what to say to convince this woman she should let me pass with my prisoner. I’m thinking I should have taken my chances and snuck past. My anxiety fuels my Deviance, and I don’t fight against it as the familiar tingling rises in the backs of my eyes. I focus in on her mind and listen.

  What’s with this kid? she thinks. She must’ve had a reason to come out here in the middle of the night. But she seems harmless, and I could use the company.

  She doesn’t suspect anything devious, but then again, why should she? She doesn’t know me.

  “Just over two hours until shift change,” Gwen says, rubbing her temples. “You can stay if you like. Help me with the light.” She grins and doesn’t seem to notice that she hasn’t blinked and can’t look away. She’ll notice soon.