“I only need a small space.”
It’s nearly ten, the sun’s light faded hours ago, and I’m past curfew. I’ve run out of time—and money—handing over twenty ration points to even gain directions to this hellhole that smells like urine, soiled clothing and despair.
I can live with that.
“Got no vacancies.” The man strokes his long, gray beard. “No space at all.”
I glance around the cluttered array of lean-tos and boxes that pass as homes for the roof’s inhabitants. “What about way over there, at the edge?”
The light there from the nicer building across the street would compensate for the lack of electricity. I’ve yet to discover how anyone cooks food up here. The prospect of raw rat meat is repulsive, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
“Can’t build there,” the man says. “Too visible.” He grabs my chin and forces me to look up at him. “You a spy? One of them Jecs kids?”
I shake my head as his rough fingers tighten on my face. I suspected this roof residence was undocumented and full of Parasites. Now it’s confirmed.
He grabs my shoulders and his bony fingers dig into my flesh. “’Cause I’ll toss you off this roof before I let you rat me out.”
“I’d never.” This man’s kidding himself if he thinks the Comps don’t know he’s up here. More likely he pays some Comp on the take. Every year, more and more Haven employees are living in undocumented locations. There’s just not enough room. The Comps largely ignore the off-policy dwellings, only clearing one or two of the many rooftops and bridge settlements each year to keep the fear levels spiked.
“You’ve gotta give me a reason to trust you, girly.” The man’s fingers knead my upper arms. “You ain’t even scared.”
I force my eyes to widen and my lips to tremble. Who knew there was a downside to my ability to hide my emotions? “Please, I’m an orphan. My last landlord, he”—I let my lips tremble some more—“he harassed me, t-touched me. I need to move.”
Mr. Gray Beard loosens his grip but doesn’t let go. I can tell that he’s reconsidering, but it’s not clear whether he’s taken pity on me or whether he’s hoping to sexually harass me himself. I’d kill anyone who tried.
He lets one hand slide down my arm to grab my elbow and then pulls me down a narrow gap between shacks. I stumble beside him, trying not to kick down the sides of anyone’s dwelling. A few dirty-faced kids peek out between sheets of filthy draped fabric, their eyes like dull points of light in the darkness.
Stopping abruptly, he spins me and points to a gap about three feet wide and ten feet deep. “You can sleep here,” he says.
“Th-thank you.” I try to sound meekly grateful but already my mind’s scrambling. We might be able to fit our two mattresses end to end in this space. Barely. And we’ll forgo comfort and use our bedding to build a roof of sorts until I can scrounge something else. Keeping Drake hidden from the other tenants is priority number one. While I doubt there are any Jecs up here, I expect there are people desperate enough to gladly trade information about a boy with paralyzed legs.
I have no idea how I’ll manage to get my brother onto this roof—the only route involves climbing a rope. While Drake’s upper body is strong, he hasn’t climbed one in years.
“I’ll take it.” I hand over the last of my ration points.
He grunts. “Not enough.”
“I can get more. Lots more.” I can’t, but I can only tackle one problem at a time.
“Welcome home.” He smiles with a nearly toothless grin.
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN I GET back to our floor, Cal’s standing in the open space near the east stairs, talking to someone around the corner and out of my sightline. His face is pale and sweating as if he’s eaten rotten rat. I instinctively hold back, then move forward to assess the risk.
I freeze as soon as I gain an angle to see. Comps. Cal’s talking to a group of Compliance Officers in full gear. From this angle I only see two, but I hear a loud clunk as another one shifts. Cal promised to warn me of any raids. He lied.
My body caves in, crushing my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. I slam back against the wall. He betrayed me. His attention was all a trick. I should have known better. Only silly girls lose their judgment around boys, and I’ve just proven myself to be one. Something I swore I’d never do.
One of the Comps turns toward me. “You. Come here,” he says and I back away.
Cal lunges toward me but I turn and run.
“Glory, stop!” Cal shouts. “The officers have questions.”
“Halt!” The Comp’s voice follows me as I race away, desperate to get to Drake.
Not hearing them behind me, I slow down after I turn the next corner. It’s either slow down or start pushing my neighbors aside. Clearly the Comps’ presence is known, and many of my neighbors are milling in the halls, talking in hushed tones. I keep my gaze down and don’t greet anyone.
Shaking, I slip into our room. Time to move Drake, although I’m not sure how. “We need to go,” I tell him. “Now.”
“Did Burn come early?”
“No.”
“What’s going on?” Drake’s armor rises and he slips on his gloves.
My heart sinks at the futility of the precautions I’ve taken. As soon as the Comps walk in here, both my brother’s injury and his Deviance will be spotted. It doesn’t matter what horrors might occur in the Hospital; he’ll never get there. He’ll be expunged. A shiver traces through me as I imagine my little brother Outside, unable to run, defenseless against the dust and the Shredders. The best I can hope is we’ll be exed together.
“What’s going on?” Drake’s voice is harder and deeper than normal. “Tell me.”
“Comps.”
His eyes snap open. “What do we do?”
“I found us a new place.”
Drake grabs his water and our meat and stuffs it all into his pockets. He snatches his pillowcase and I realize it’s already filled with nearly everything else we own, even though I haven’t told him we’re moving, yet. Did he really think I’d let him go with Burn?
I yank the ends of the blanket out from under the mattress beneath him, then pull the edges next to his hips. I spread his legs apart, turn, and crouch between them.
“Grab my shoulders,” I tell him. “Now.” I clutch the edges of the blanket.
He slings the pillowcase forward as he wraps his arms around my shoulders. Then, holding the blanket, I lean forward and pull him onto my back. He’s on me, piggyback style but dangling, nearly choking me with his overlapped forearms, and he’s so much taller and heavier than the last time I carried him. I tug the ends of the blanket forward, hoping and praying it’s tucking around his backside and thighs.
I carefully secure his legs inside the blanket and tie it firmly in front of me. He slips but then grips with his elbows and pulls himself up higher as I lean forward and adjust the knot. This might work as long as I lean forward. Some people carry laundry and other bulky items this way, so as long as he keeps his head and limbs hidden we might pull this off. I still have no idea how I’ll get up or down ladders or ropes, or what I’ll say to anyone who confronts us, but I’ve run out of options. We’ve got to leave. Now.
I take the pillowcase and peek out the door. Cal’s striding toward me. I slam the door shut.
“Glory.” Cal pushes on the door. I push back.
“Let me in,” he says. “Or come talk to the Comps. If you cooperate, they’ll leave you alone.”
Me, maybe. But Cal’s assuming I’d sacrifice Drake, adding to the evidence I was wrong to trust him, blinded by my hormones, by my fantasy of us as a couple.
“Glory,” he says through the door. “Let me in. I can help.”
Not seeing an alternative—he’s drawing attention—I open the door a crack and he slides inside. Cal looks scared.
My last puff of optimism rises. “Help me get Drake past the Comps?”
His jaw hardens. “Too lat
e. There’s no way past them.” He looks guilty and nervous, which isn’t like Cal, and I don’t like the feeling, not at all.
I slam my fists into his chest. “You promised to warn me.” I raise my fists to strike again but he grabs my wrists before they connect. The dating bracelet digs into my skin.
“Glory. I’m sorry.” He drops my wrists. “I didn’t—”
“Sorry isn’t good enough.” I make eye contact and latch on, but before I can do any damage, I chicken out and look away. I’m useless. How can I protect my brother if I can’t even use my curse against those who’ve betrayed him?
“You said you’d protect Drake.” My voice is strained and I’m in danger of letting my emotions explode.
Cal squeezes my upper arm. “Come with me. We’ll talk to the Comps. You and me. If you run, you’ll make it worse.”
I bite down the retorts I want to hurl back and pull away. “How could this possibly get any worse?”
Cal wipes sweat off his forehead. “They haven’t found Drake yet and…maybe the Hospital’s not so bad. I’ll talk to Mr. Belando.”
Drake tenses. His armor hardens and presses into the skin of my back.
“Leave!” I shout.
As soon as Cal’s gone, I’ll head in the opposite direction. I’m not sure how, or if, we’ll get off the floor, but if the Comps came to arrest a Parasite with paralyzed legs, they might not have covered all the exits, especially the ones requiring ropes.
“Go. Now.” My voice is solid ice.
Cal looks hurt and confused as he backs from the room.
I don’t care.
I close the door in his face and then Drake pokes his head out from under the blanket. “Put me down, Glory. Save yourself. Leave before the Comps come. Find Burn. He’ll take you to Dad.”
“Dad is dead.” My words are sharp like freshly cut tin.
A scraping sound comes from the back wall.
I turn. A huge serrated knife slices through the wall, low to the floor. The Comps have us surrounded. They’re cutting though the back of our apartment.
Drake leans over my shoulder and he’s—smiling?
“It’s Burn.” Drake wiggles and then slips off my back, and I realize that while I’ve been so distracted he managed to loosen the knots of the blanket sling. “He showed me that knife before. It’s super sharp and strong.”
“What are you doing?” I grab for him but he drops to the floor in a heap.
“I’m going through that hole,” he says. “You follow and pull the storage box in front once we’re through.” He grabs his packed pillowcase with his teeth and drags himself toward the wall.
His excitement seems unbelievably misplaced. Even if he’s right and it is Burn making a hole in the wall, going through it will just lead to death by way of a different route.
But I hear the heavy footsteps of Comps in our hall and realize I’d do anything not to face them, do anything to prolong the time until Drake is captured. I can’t give up.
With a thud, the section of wall falls into our room, leaving a hole. Burn’s arms thrust through. He grabs the pieces of wall he cut out and pulls them into the room he’s in.
Mind scrambling, I can’t even think whose dwelling butts up against that wall, and the more I try to remember, the more confused I become. Spatial skills are not my strong suit and I’m still stunned and frozen in place when I notice that Drake is pulling himself by his arms toward the hole more quickly than I’ve ever seen him move—even when he had use of his legs. Before I can grab him, Burn has pulled Drake through the narrow hole.
“Wait.” I dive onto my belly and slide toward the hole, grasping for my brother’s feet. Burn’s strong, hard hands latch onto my arms and pull me forward.
The second I’m through, I scramble over to Drake and put my arms around him. “Are you hurt?”
“Burn wouldn’t hurt me.”
“You’re too trusting.” I grasp my brother’s shoulders. “You haven’t seen enough of the world to know.”
Burn grunts. “Like you’ve seen the world.” He reaches back into our apartment and pulls the wooden box, which serves as both table and food storage, to block the hole. After standing, he grabs a huge piece of wooden furniture. It’s taller than me and has doors on the front. He picks it up and sets it down to block this side of the hole.
“It will have to do.” Burn strides over to the window.
I have no idea whose apartment we’re in, but luckily, whoever lives here isn’t home, or if they were, Burn scared them off. The tall cupboard-like thing that Burn moved isn’t the only big piece of furniture in this place, and I start to wonder if maybe we’re in the home of the Tenant Liaison. No one else living up this high could afford so many nice things. Against the wall a mattress sits on some kind of a platform raised off the floor. Overhead there are three light bulbs covered by a pretty glass case that filters the light to disperse it evenly, and against the wall lean wooden shelves stacked with rows and rows of books. The library only allows one book out at a time, so I assume these books must be owned. Imagine such luxuries.
While I’m distracted by the opulence—there’s a rug on the floor!—Burn throws off his long coat, grabs Drake, and puts him up on his back.
“I’ll carry him.” I reach for Drake.
Burn ignores me and instead straps some kind of harness under Drake’s backside, and then pulls it forward and back over his head. He tightens it across his broad chest. Burn dons his oversized coat and my brother’s like a small appendage attached to his back. Where Drake covered my back and then some, he’s more like a backpack on the much larger Burn.
Letting Burn carry him is more practical, but my nerves snap in protest.
Burn strides to the window and picks up a rope he’s tied to a steel girder where the frame for a window used to be. He’s pulling it, measuring out lengths, then, choosing a place to grab hold, he wraps it around his thick wrist. “Are you coming?” He glares at me but is smart enough to turn away before I gain focus. He steps over the girder and balances precariously on the edge of the building.
On Burn’s back, my brother hangs helplessly out the window. If Burn releases those straps, or they break, my brother will fall to his death.
“Why use the rope?” I point to the adjacent building. “Why not jump across there?” I’ve seen the power in his legs.
“Too far down. Plus, too risky right now.”
“Why?” Maybe if I reason with him, he’ll step back into the room, instead of leaning out of it, and I can figure out a way to get Drake off his back. “If someone sees you taking Drake, what difference does it make if you’re climbing down a rope or jumping through the air?”
“Stupid to advertise my gift.”
“Gift?”
“Deviance.” He says the word like it tastes bad, and then rechecks the straps holding Drake. Yanking the rope, as if to test its hold one final time, he looks up to me. “Are you coming or not?”
“Halt. Compliance!” someone yells and the door bursts open. Three Comps, followed by Cal, crash into the room; their heavy boots boom against the wooden floors.
Burn grabs my arm.
“Let her go,” Cal calls out. “Stop him.”
Indecision grabs my belly. Should I stay? Trust Burn with my brother?
The Comps point their shockers but don’t shoot, and I realize that if they hit Burn, all three of us will fall out of the thirty-two-story window.
“Now or never,” Burn nearly growls in my ear.
“Glory, I love you,” Cal says and my indecision vanishes.
Cal’s a liar. He betrayed me. Betrayed my brother.
I’ll miss Jayma, but beyond that there’s nothing left for me here.
I nod to Burn, he clamps his arm around my waist and, holding the rope in one hand, jumps back.
My heart leaps to my throat as we fall.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“CAN I AT least move?” I shift against the bulk of Burn’s body. “Trust me. I w
on’t leave without my brother.”
For what feels like hours, he’s had me pinned beside him in the corner of this tiny space he pushed me into after we dropped from the window. All I know is we’re below ground level, underneath our building, in a small space that’s dark and dirty. He’s only cranked his torch once, just so Drake and I could see that we were both present and unharmed. I can hear my brother breathing, moving every now and again, but otherwise I’m blinded in the complete darkness.
It’s fine for Burn. His strange glasses are special goggles that let him see in the dark. My skin crawls, thinking how he can see me but I can’t see him. Having any boy so near right now turns my stomach, never mind one as scary as Burn. Over the past hours, I’ve searched for another explanation for the Comps’ arrival on our floor, their pursuit, Cal’s involvement—but I keep landing at the same conclusion.
Cal betrayed me and the weight of the truth is almost as heavy as Burn. Worse, every few moments his betrayal stabs me, poking holes in my confidence and belief in my judgment. Have I done the wrong thing again, by trusting Burn to help us escape?
“What is this place?” I ask.
“Bottom of a garbage chute.” Burn’s deep voice fills the space.
“What’s a garbage chute?” Drake asks, sounding genuinely curious.
“ “Before The Dust”—Burn shifts, moving me—“people dropped their garbage down here from the upper floors.”
“What’s garbage?” Drake asks. While I’ve heard the word, I can’t remember what it means.
“Waste. Scraps,” Burn says. “Things people don’t need.”
“He asked an honest question.” I poke Burn’s hard arm. “The least you could do is give him an honest answer.” I cross my arms over my chest and wonder if he can see my gesture in the dark. I have no idea which way he’s looking. But if he wants me to believe there was a time when people simply threw things away, dropped them down some kind of chute, he really must think me gullible.
“What did they throw away?” Drake asks.
“Skins. Bones,” Burn answers. “Pits from fruit. Old clothes. Things people didn’t want.”
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