Glory

by Maureen McGowan

  “Glory?”

  I jump back, but Burn holds the door open.

  The boy who said my name is Ansel, a classmate from COT.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “That big Deviant was rushing through the halls and shouting your name.” Ansel, who’s almost as short as I am, looks up at Burn. “I knew he’d saved you on the President’s Birthday, so I led him here.”

  “How did you—” I have so many questions, but they can wait. “Can you take us to my brother and our friends? They’re—”

  “I know where they are,” Ansel says. “Come on.”

  The corridors are even louder than before. No one seems to realize that Mrs. Kalin is dead, but it won’t be long. Ansel finds us white coats to wear, and I hold up a clipboard, using it to shield my face.

  On the way, there’s evidence of Burn passing through—smashed windows, injured workers—but no one seems to recognize him now that he’s back to his normal size and dressed like them.

  We turn a corner and I rush to the door where we left the others, but it’s locked. Remembering the code, I type it in.

  All of the techs are gone except one who lies unconscious, or dead, in the corner.

  Drake is suspended by his wrists from a pipe high above us, not moving. Blood trails from several patches on his body where it looks like his skin was taken.

  I head toward him, but then I see Jayma. She’s in some kind of metal box, the walls of which are closing in on her from all sides. She’s pushing back against the force, and I can hear the machinery grinding against her. She’s weakening. The second she slips, she’ll be crushed.

  Burn leaps over to her and tries to pry apart the sides of the machine, but even with both of them working together, the walls won’t stop.

  I find the control panel on one side, looking for an emergency release, but I can’t find it. I try my pass code from Comp training and gasp when the System jumps to life.

  Burn yells in frustration, and I worry that he’ll change again, but he doesn’t. I find the Science and Research Department menus and what appears to be a list of devices used to test Deviant limits.

  There’s one called the Crusher. That has to be it. I switch it off.

  The second the machine releases its force, Jayma collapses. Burn lifts her and carries her onto a table. I rush to my brother.

  “Drake.” I stroke his face, but he doesn’t wake up. I find a chair to help me reach his outstretched wrists. As I release the bindings, his body slumps onto mine, and my chair tips back.

  Burn catches us both before we fall to the floor.

  “His halo,” Burn says, and I find the button at its side to release it.

  Drake groans as the halo comes off. His armor instantly rises, his skin now cold and hard against mine.

  “Is he okay?” Jayma sits up on the table.

  “He’s unconscious.” I check his pulse.

  Jayma looks exhausted and bruised but otherwise okay. “What happened?” she asks me. “Is—is it done?”

  “Yes.”

  Burn grabs something from a cabinet.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Dust.”

  “Give it to them.”

  I support Drake’s head as Burn puts a small amount of dust under his nose.

  “It’s not working.”

  “Since he thinks we’re traitors,” Burn says, “maybe it’s best if he stays unconscious?”

  I shake my head, and Burn gives him another pinch of dust.

  Drake’s eyes open. “Jayma!”

  “She’s okay,” I tell him. “How are you feeling?”

  His armor retracts and the wounds on his chest bleed. His eyes are unfocused.

  “Get some bandages,” I tell Ansel. He looks stunned but does as I say.

  Drake rubs his temples. “My head is cloudy. I can barely remember—”

  “Don’t try right now,” I tell him. “Rest.”

  Jayma inhales a tiny bit of dust. “Wow, that feels good.” She jumps off the table and stares at the dust container. Burn moves it behind his back.

  “Careful,” I say.

  “Yeah.” She rubs her arms. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow.”

  “No kidding,” Burn says.

  “What now?” she asks.

  “Time to get out of here.” Burn finds his coat and shoves the dust container in one of the pockets.

  “Cal and Larsson released some dust into Haven,” I tell the others. “They’re hoping it will help the employees clear Kalin’s thoughts from their minds.”

  “Cal and Larsson?” Ansel asks. He’s checking the pulse of the lab tech, who appears to be alive.

  Suddenly I’m not sure whether we should be so trusting. “Ansel, what do you think of President Kalin?”

  He looks down and slides one of his boots along the floor.

  I walk toward him. “It’s okay, Ansel. You can answer honestly.”

  He guides me away from the unconscious worker. “I’ll tell you what I think,” he whispers. “I think everything she says is insane. And the things they do in here are horrific.” He gestures around us.

  “Do you work in here?” I ask. He’s wearing a white coat.

  He nods. “After you left, I flamed out of COT. My dad got me placed here as part of the President’s in-house security team, and right away I knew something was wrong.”

  Ansel’s dad is in Management. He got Ansel into COT, too. “Do you look at the screens when you listen to Mrs. Kalin’s speeches?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “It’s not like you can avoid it.”

  “But you don’t believe the things she says.”

  “No. But everyone else does—even my dad—so I keep quiet. I argued with one of my coworkers the first day I was placed on the President’s detail, but I quickly realized it wasn’t smart.” His cheeks turn pink. “Instead, I help people when I can. Try to ease people’s suffering.” He looks to the side. “But I hardly do anything. I see horrible things in here every day and do nothing.” He looks up at me. “I wish I was brave like you.”

  “You’re plenty brave,” I tell him. “I wonder why you’re immune to Mrs. Kalin’s Deviance.”

  He steps back awkwardly and bangs into the wall. “She’s a Deviant?”

  “Yes. She can plant thoughts in other people’s minds.”

  “But not mine?” He looks confused and proud at the same time.

  “Some people can resist her,” I say. “You’re one of the lucky ones. I could block her, but only sometimes.” Maybe Ansel could do it because he has a Deviance he doesn’t know about yet? “We still have so much to learn.”

  “Wow. This explains so much. But”—he straightens—“how do we stop her?”

  “She’s been stopped.” I lean in close. “She’s dead.”

  “Oh.” Ansel exhales loudly. “So everything’s okay now?”

  “It’s a start.”

  Burn walks toward us. Ansel takes a step back but relaxes slightly as Burn wraps his arm around my shoulders.

  “Mrs. Kalin’s ideas,” Ansel says, “are they still planted in everyone’s minds?”

  “Cal and Larsson are trying to fix that,” I tell him. “Will you help us?”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ANSEL FINDS LAB coats for Jayma and Drake, and we all stride purposefully out of the room, chatting and referring to our clipboards. No one pays us any attention—even though Burn’s brown coat hangs out below the white one—and we march directly to the main entrance of the hospital.

  As I put my hand on the door, someone bangs from the outside. I yank my hand back.

  “I wouldn’t go out there,” a woman says from behind me.

  “Why?” Ansel asks her. “What’s going on?”

  She points to a screen on the wall. It shows the scene outside, where an angry mob is shouting and banging, trying to get in.

  “They’ve turned against us.” The woman raises a trembling hand to her cheek. “Don’t they
know that science equals safety?”

  I back away from the doors and motion for the others to follow. “It looks like the dust might be working out there,” I whisper, “but maybe the dust isn’t getting inside this building.” It makes sense that the Hospital is better sealed.

  “How do we get out then?” Jayma asks. “If that mob thinks we work here, they’ll kill us.”

  “I know where the back entrance is,” I tell them. “On our way out, we’ll ditch these white coats.”

  The streets leading to the Hub are filled with people. Many are covering their faces, clearly terrified of the dust, and it’s hard to know if they’re still under Mrs. Kalin’s mind control. At least Drake seems to be free of her, but he’s still confused about what happened.

  When we reach the designated corner of the Hub, neither Cal nor Larsson has arrived.

  “Do you think they’re okay?” I ask Burn.

  He nods slowly.

  Drake looks around the Hub and scratches his head. He spins back toward us. “How did we end up in that research room?” he asks. “Did I—” His shoulders droop. “Did I turn us in?”

  I step forward, but Jayma rushes to his side. “You were under her influence. It’s not your fault.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I can’t really remember.”

  Jayma rubs his back and looks up at me. “Glory, we’d all be dead if it weren’t for you.”

  “And Burn,” I say. “And Ansel. We all did our parts.”

  Looking up to the inside of the dome, I try to figure out whether the vents are still blowing in dust. The air is hazy, but it’s no worse than on a day when one of the factory filters malfunctions. I’d forgotten how bleak it is inside Haven. How gray.

  “Attention!” a voice calls from the speakers in the Hub. The screens flicker on, and Larsson and Cal appear.

  “Attention, employees,” Larsson says. “The President has been removed from office. Management is no longer in charge.”

  Silence falls over the Hub.

  Then, one by one, people start to clap until the air is filled with cheers.

  On screen, Cal smiles, but Larsson keeps his usual stern appearance and holds up his hands.

  “Things will be different from now on. We have a lot of work to do, many things to learn, but if we work together we can accomplish so much.”

  A murmur flows through the crowd. “Who’s in charge?” someone shouts.

  “Us!” someone else responds. “Kill everyone in Management!”

  Cheers rise.

  “There will be changes in leadership,” Larsson says, “but we hope that all Haven employees—including Management—will work together as we rebuild our city.” He steps to the side and gestures for someone to join him. It’s Mr. Alast, the Senior VP of Human Resources.

  “I realize I was following the P&P without thought,” Alast says, “especially since Kalin took over. But it’s time for change.” He nods toward Larsson. “If we all work together, we can reform the P&P and rebuild our lives.”

  Cal steps up to the microphone. “The first order of business is food. I know your rations have been severely restricted these past months. Starting in one hour, food will be available in the Hub’s ration store. Please line up in an orderly fashion. There’s enough for everyone.” He grins. “In fact, some of you will be surprised at a few of the treats we have.”

  Larsson steps back into view. “Glory, Burn, Drake, Jayma—if you’re seeing this, we will rendezvous in twenty-four hours.”

  The screens flicker off and everyone in the Hub talks at once. But there are no riots. No further shouts for anyone’s head. A line forms in front of the ration store.

  “I need to find my parents,” Jayma says.

  “I’ll go with you.” Drake reaches for her hand.

  I hug them both. “Keep each other safe. And don’t be late for the rendezvous.”

  “Worrywart.” Drake lightly punches my upper arm. “You just take care of yourself.” He kisses my cheek.

  I watch Drake and Jayma disappear into the crowd. When I turn back, I find Ansel and Burn deep in conversation.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Burn’s telling me about what it’s like Outside.” Ansel looks amazed. “I’m going to find Larsson and Cal and help out at the ration store.”

  “Good idea,” I say. “And if you’re interested in going Outside, meet us back here in twenty-four hours.”

  Ansel rubs his temple. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that. But I’ll come back to say good-bye.”

  When he leaves, I look at Burn. “What now? Should we go help at the store, too?”

  He shakes his head. “Let’s go find someplace quiet.”

  Lying back on a rooftop with my head resting on Burn’s arm, I stare at a cluster of LED lights. I spent the first sixteen years of my life inside Haven, thinking that the dome was the sky and these lights the stars. Or, at least, not believing that I’d ever have the chance to see what these were created to imitate.

  And now, I never want to be inside here again. I’m done with Haven and can’t wait until my family is reunited, so we can start our new lives together.

  The memories of my mother’s death flood back, and the LED stars blur through my tears.

  Burn turns onto his side. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was just thinking about my mom.”

  His breath catches, and I reach up to cup his cheek. “I’m so sorry you didn’t have more time with Morag.”

  “Me too.”

  We look into each other’s eyes, and I’m glad he didn’t deny his feelings. I know how hard it was for him to face his mother and then lose her. If I have any say in the matter, he’ll never feel abandoned again.

  “Thank you,” he says, his voice deep and thick.

  “For what?”

  “For everything.”

  I start to object, but he presses his lips to mine, and I forget what I was going to say. But it doesn’t matter. With his arm crooked behind my neck and the heat of his body against mine, I feel as if anything’s possible; I can do anything, be anything, accomplish whatever I want.

  Burn’s hand traces up the side of my body, leaving a trail of tingling fire, and he breaks the kiss. “Everything still okay?” His breathing is heavy and his words vibrate through me.

  “Better than okay.”

  He leans over me, but I place my fingers on his lips to block them.

  “Too fast?” he asks. “Do you need more time to make sure I don’t change?”

  “That’s not it.” I smile. “Not at all. I need to tell you something.”

  He nods.

  “Last night when we kissed, I didn’t keep you from changing.”

  He tips his head back. “Did I change and forget?”

  “No.” I stroke his cheek. “What I mean is that I didn’t do anything to stop you from changing.”

  “Yes you did.” His eyebrows draw together. “Of course you did. Last night we—How else—”

  “You did it on your own, Burn.”

  He pulls away a few inches, and the gap feels like a canyon.

  I reach for him. “I don’t think it was passion that made you change the other times we kissed.”

  “That’s crazy. When we kiss, I definitely feel passion. Believe me. Especially last night.”

  “I could tell.” I smile for a second. “Me too. But I don’t think passion was the emotion that made you change the other times. I think it was fear.”

  “Sorry, Glory. You might be pretty terrifying to some people,” he grins, “but I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Maybe you should be.” I pinch his upper arm.

  “Ouch. Okay, okay, I’m terrified.”

  I slide closer. “I’m serious about this. Remember when you said you were afraid to kiss me?”

  “So?”

  “My Deviance is only triggered by negative emotions—fear, anger, hate—and I think it’s the same for you. I think you were afraid of hurtin
g me. Afraid of the other things you were feeling.” I pause. “I was afraid of that, too.”

  He frowns. “But what was different last night? We kissed longer than we ever have before.”

  “You thought I was helping you, so you weren’t afraid. Because you weren’t afraid, you didn’t change.”

  He slips his arm out from under me and sits up.

  I sit, too. I want to wrap my arms around him, but I wait.

  “I think you’re right,” he says quietly. “Except that, before, I wasn’t just afraid that I’d hurt you.” He looks down. “I was afraid you’d hurt me.”

  “I’d never hurt you.” I put my hand on his back. “I can feel my Deviance coming on.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” His eyes fill with tears. “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved.”

  “Burn.” I slip into his lap. “That’s not going to happen. You’re not going to lose me. I promise.”

  He holds me tightly. “I want to believe that, but what if I can’t control my fear? I’m too dangerous.”

  I caress his neck. “That’s for me to decide, not you.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Come on, Burn. You’re not the only one who’s dangerous. You know perfectly well that I can kill you. And I’m afraid of losing you, too. But now that we both know what triggers our Gifts, we can sense them. Your control will improve. Mine did.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  What can I ever say to convince him?

  “I have the answer!” I keep my expression serious.

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “Practice.”

  A slight smile creeps onto his face. “Practice?”

  “Yes. Lots and lots and lots of practice. We need to kiss as often as possible.” I tip up my palms and shrug. “I’m sorry, but it’s the only answer.”

  Laughing deep in his chest, he rolls me back against the rooftop and presses his lips to mine.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  JAYMA STANDS OPPOSITE her parents, holding her mother’s hands. Her dad is carrying a sack filled with their belongings, and it’s easy to see that both of her parents are frightened. A lot of people who’ve chosen to leave Haven are frightened, and even though there are close to fifty people in this narrow corridor, the mood is hushed.