Deviants (The Dust Chronicles)

by Maureen McGowan

  “Wow.” Drake sounds more like ten than thirteen. “BTD everyone in Haven must have been rich.”

  “Guess so.”

  “If they threw away food scraps,” Drake asks, “how did they make soil?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Your story about garbage doesn’t make sense.”

  “Soil just formed.” Burn’s voice is low and deep, but reveals no annoyance at our questioning.

  “By magic?” Drake asks.

  “No, not magic,” Burn says. “Things in nature automatically decompose into soil.”

  “What’s nature?” Drake asks.

  “Plants and animals—but not on a farm. Okay, on a farm, too. But not like the farms in Haven. Farms in the open air, not inside factories.”

  “Cool.”

  Hearing Drake excited about Burn’s stories, about anything, lifts my spirits and I start to relax. No longer straining against Burn’s bulk, his weight pushing against me starts to feel more like a blanket than a burden.

  “How long will we stay here in the dark?” Drake asks.

  “Not much longer.” Burn shifts his legs against mine. “We’ll wait until they’ve stopped searching this area.”

  “How do you know where they’re searching?” I ask. “Can you read the Comps’ minds or sense their presence?” I intended this as sarcasm. But after saying it, I realize I have no idea what abilities come with Burn’s Deviance. All I know is he scares me.

  “I’ve studied the Comps’ patterns, their routines,” Burn answers calmly, not taking the bait my tone tossed out.

  “When we get out of here,” I say, “I could use your help getting Drake to our new home.”

  “New home?”

  “I found us a new place to live.”

  Burn grunts. “That roof? You can’t live there.”

  My nails dig into my palms. “You were following me?” Of course he was.

  He doesn’t answer.

  “I suppose you’ve got a better plan?” I try to move my legs. “What is it?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “I’ll find out now, or we won’t go anywhere with you.” Frustration builds inside me, and I wish I could think of a way to escape this situation without relying on Burn. I don’t trust him.

  “He’s taking us to see Dad.” My brother sounds as if he’s being taken on an adventure, or out for a treat.

  “Drake”—I rub Mom’s ring—“Dad can’t be alive. On the off chance that he is, he’s a Shredder. I’m sorry to be so harsh about it, but it’s the truth.”

  “Is he a Shredder?” Drake’s voice quavers.

  “No.” Burn’s voice is low. “Your Dad’s fine. Trust me.”

  Drake’s hand lands on my foot. “We’ll be a family again.”

  Not a family. Not without Mom. My insides cave in like I’m using my curse against myself. An aching pain traces through me, but I replace it with rage. “Even if Dad’s alive, how can you be excited to see him? He killed Mom. He ruined our family. Ruined everything.”

  Burn whispers something I can’t hear.

  “What?”

  Burn shifts. “First things first. We need to get past the Comps.”

  I grit my teeth, but he’s right. This is no time to cry over what’s lost. I need to be practical, think of what’s ahead, even though it’s veiled with uncertainty.

  I move my arm and the dating license digs into my wrist. Suddenly, it’s like the bracelet’s made of acid. I twist and wrench, sliding it down. The pain’s so intense I wonder if I’m breaking my bones, but finally I slide it off. Pulling my hand back, I start to toss the license but stop. I don’t want to hit Drake with the offensive projectile and—I’m not ready to throw out the past.

  I shove it into my pocket. In spite of my disappointment in Cal, my anger at Burn, and my determination to survive, sadness creeps inside me, pinching and poking into every available opening. I’m tempted to yield. To let sadness overtake me. To complain. To cry. But I won’t. I’ve worked too hard to block my emotions, and dwelling on the past few days—how everything became so wonderful then horrible all at once—is dangerous.

  Feeling sorry for myself won’t do any good. I need a plan. And if Burn’s not lying, if he really is taking us to see our father, I’ll have a chance to confront him, to accuse him, to show him the depth of my hate and—a chill races through me—my hate kills.

  “We shouldn’t go this way,” I tell Burn. “Too close to the Hub.”

  He turns toward me, a scowl on his face. Drake’s still under the oversized coat, except now he’s strapped onto Burn’s chest, facing him, like Drake’s an infant. I have to admit that unless I look closely, it’s hard to tell he’s there. It’s more like Burn’s even huger and bulkier.

  Limping, I rush to keep up and then tug on his arm. “If we go to the Hub, we’ll get caught.”

  Burn turns to me, fire in his eyes. “Quiet,” he says, “and keep moving. Fast.”

  He turns sharply into an alley that’s so narrow his shoulders rub on both sides. The light grows even darker as the slowly brightening sky is blocked by short bridges between the buildings above us. He turns another corner and I recognize this alley. It’s the alley where I first saw Burn, and it leads directly to the Hub.

  He stops and I slam into his back. He looks around quickly and then goes down on one knee.

  “Don’t be scared, Drake,” I say. “I’m right here.”

  “Hush.” With a swipe of his arm, Burn pushes me back against the wall, then scans the alley for movement. Bending, he rubs his hands over a rough spot on the road until his finger catches a small metal ring. Hooking the ring with his index finger, he lifts a huge iron disk as if it weighs nothing, right from the surface of the road. It reveals a deep, dark hole. Great. He’s going to toss us into a pit.

  “You first.” He points to the hole and I try to shake my head, but my neck’s seized in fear.

  “Take the ladder,” he says. “Wait at the bottom. Move. Now.” His voice is quiet but comes out with cannon force. When I don’t move he adds, “You’re not strong enough to pull the cover shut behind us, so if you’re coming, you’re first. Move—now.”

  My body sparks into action. I crouch down, and after verifying that there is, in fact, a ladder starting just below the road’s surface, I reach for the top rung. But before I can get a good grip, Burn lifts me and shoots my legs down the hole. I stifle a scream, but he lowers me slowly enough to give me a chance to catch the ladder with my hands and feet. In seconds, the light disappears as Burn and Drake move into the hole above me.

  Vibrations from the ladder buzz through my hands and arms and shoulders, so I quicken my pace to avoid having one of his huge boots land on my fingers. This is crazy. I’m climbing down into a bottomless pit with no light or end but it’s not like the streets above are safer. Not for us. Not anymore.

  My foot reaches down for a rung, but doesn’t find one. Moving down, I stretch, my leg searching for the ground. What now?

  Burn’s pounding feet continue above me then stop. “Jump!” he barks.

  Drawing a deep breath, I push off and let go, bending my legs in anticipation. The impact sends pain shooting up my spine and into my joints. My injured ankle screams in protest.

  “Out of the way!” Burn yells.

  I leap back and air rushes past me as he lands with a huge thump inches away.

  “Drake?” I need to hear his voice.

  “I’m fine.” He barely sounds scared, and while I’m relieved, I almost want to be angry. Doesn’t he know that he’s strapped to the body of a crazy and dangerous boy who could very well plan to eat us for dinner?

  Burn turns on a torch that reveals a small space. It’s a miracle I didn’t slam my head on the wall when I jumped back. Another few inches and I’d have knocked myself out. Burn loosens his coat and Drake lifts his face from Burn’s chest.

  “You okay?” Burn asks.

  Drake grins. He actually grins.

  “Once w
e go through there”—Burn gestures to a door I just noticed—“keep close to me and don’t talk. Look like you know where you’re going. We need to move quickly, make sure no one stops us to ask for our numbers.”

  “What’s out there?” I ask.

  “A mall. Only Management’s allowed, but we need to cut through it to get to the tunnel’s entrance.”

  “What’s a mall?” Drake asks and I’m glad, because I want to know, too.

  “A mall’s a cluster of underground stores with a corridor down the middle.” Burn turns to me. “Act like you belong.”

  I stifle a laugh. Since I discovered my curse, all I’ve done is pretend to belong. “Did you mention a tunnel?”

  Burn nods without really answering. I know from Cal that Haven has a series of tunnels running outward from the main city like spokes. Since the city boundaries are fixed, there’s no other way to expand, and from what I understand, most of them are used for storage and manufacturing. Burn must live in the tunnels.

  “Keep close,” he says gruffly. “And be quiet.”

  He opens the door, and then wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. I feel Drake’s leg through the coat and hope we’re not hurting him. He can’t feel but he can bruise.

  But any thoughts of protest are overtaken by the sights and smells around me. It’s like we’ve walked out into an entirely different city, something from a story. It’s well lit down here and the colors are overwhelming. It’s not that I’ve never seen colors before, but these are so much brighter and stronger, as if everything else I’ve seen has been muted, painted over by a thin film of gray. My dingy jacket that I thought was green, looks brown.

  And the smells. Fresh fruits and vegetables cover tables at the front of some shops—just sitting there!—and I wonder how the shopkeepers prevent people from stealing. I don’t see any Comps, but there must be cameras. I look around but don’t see any. A woman, dressed in a bright red dress and high-heeled shoes, made out of shiny black leather, studies an apple and then places it into a small basket along with a leafy plant that’s as big as a head. She picks up something yellow that looks fresh and shiny with a green stem at its top, and then she steps up to the shopkeeper and hands him a card that he scans and passes back to her.

  “Don’t draw attention,” Burn hisses in my ear.

  A woman passes us with a question in her eyes. We stand out down here, especially if I’m struggling against his hold, so I stop doing that. I understand Burn’s concern. We need to get through this mall place quickly, before someone calls the Comps to report us, but I can’t help peering into a few shops.

  A scent hits my nostrils and I almost stumble. My head snaps to the side to locate its source, and there’s a store with long, light-brown lumps of something that smells better than freshly cooked rat. Even better than that cucumber Cal fed me. Above the shop window a sign reads Bakery.

  “What’s that?” I ask Burn as softly as I can.

  “It’s called bread. Keep moving.”

  I try but the variety and quantity of goods for sale, the brightness down here, morph my amazement to anger. What a contrast to the sad-looking rations we line up for each week. My friends and I survive on rat, rehydrated gruel, and, if we’re lucky, one or two fresh things a pay period—yet this is how Management lives?

  Adding insult to injury, this so-called mall, with its unbelievable riches, is hidden right below the Hub, where they dole out our gray rations and gather us to watch as our friends and neighbors and fathers are exed.

  Another shop window captures my attention with its bright flashing lights, and I slip away from Burn to take a closer look. The shop is fronted with real glass. Behind that lies at least a dozen screens—just like the ones up high in the Hub but smaller. Displayed in front of each screen is a sign with a number, amounts that don’t make sense as prices: ration points don’t go that high. Surely these screens aren’t meant for personal use? No one has a private TV. Imagine.

  The screens all change at once—to a photo of Burn. The air presses out of my lungs. I’m in the next image. It’s blurry, but it’s clearly Burn holding my wrist and pulling me toward the window we escaped from last night.

  Given Burn’s long coat and the way his body’s turned, at least the photo doesn’t show Drake. Words under the image read: Promising Young Employee Kidnapped by Deviant Terrorist.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I BLINK AT the screen, not quite believing my eyes. I’m not positive that Burn isn’t a terrorist, but I’m shocked to learn that the Comps interpreted what they saw as a kidnapping. I can’t decide whether this is good or bad news, and more to the point, whether it’s the truth or a misunderstanding. But even if we have been kidnapped, I can’t call for help. Compared to the Comps, Burn’s our best bet.

  He grabs my arm, and as I’m dragged down the hall, I focus on the shiny floor tiles to avoid showing my face to the crowd or possible security cameras. “Did you see those screens?” I ask quietly.

  He doesn’t answer, but his fingers tighten on my arm and he quickens his pace, keeping his head lowered, too. Footsteps race behind us, getting closer, and my heart pounds so fast and hard everyone down here must hear it.

  The steps get louder and by the time they overtake us I’m ready to explode. But they turn out to be from a couple of kids, younger than Drake but in much finer clothes, chasing each other through the mall.

  My shoulders unclench and relief floods up my throat, making me feel as if I might cry.

  Burn pulls me to the side and quickly types a code into a keypad against the wall. The door in front of us opens and Burn tugs me forward. It’s quiet, except for the low hum of generators. The entire hall—walls, ceiling, floor—is made of gray concrete, scarred by watermarks and crumbling in places. This looks more like the Haven I know. It could be almost any street, except it’s underground.

  While chasing Burn down the hall, I sneak a quick look into one of the rooms, filled with boxes and shelves—perhaps storage rooms for the shops. He stops in front of a door, types in another code, and the room we enter is dark and full of big wooden crates. I follow through the box maze until we hit the back wall, but before I have a chance to open my mouth and ask the plan, he’s tapped the corner of a crate. I hear a click.

  One of the crate’s sides drops to reveal a ladder leading down a deep, dark hole. But this ladder seems more ominous than the last, like it’s leading me away from everything I’ve ever known—with no chance to return.

  Burn rips his coat off and starts loading its padded compartments with weapons he grabs from inside the crate—Long daggers, huge heavy sticks, and various scraps of sharp metal.

  “What are you looking at?” Burn asks with a gruff voice and then grabs three filter masks from hooks. He slings the one lacking an eye shield over his head, its straps to the front, then passes another one to Drake.

  My brother’s eyes widen as he runs his finger over the filter covering the mouth and nose of the mask. “Why do we need these?”

  “Just a precaution.” Burn thrusts one toward me, then throws his coat down the hole, and it lands with a distant clank.

  I run my hand down Drake’s leg, the one that was squished between me and Burn. While I don’t feel anything wrong, it’s not like I could feel a bruise. At least nothing’s broken.

  Burn leans his head back and looks down toward Drake on his chest. “You okay, buddy?”

  “He’s not your buddy.” Events are spiraling out of control, and I feel like I’m about to explode.

  “I’m fine,” Drake says.

  Burn points at the hole. “You coming?” He won’t look directly at my eyes. “Your choice, but if you ever mention this entrance, or the way we got down into the mall to anyone—especially your little boyfriend—I’ll kill you.”

  Paralyzed by his words, I realize I do have a choice. My Deviance is easier to hide than most, and although I don’t want to trust someone else to protect my brother, this isn’t about what’s b
est for me. It’s about Drake. Burn can move more quickly without my sprained ankle limping along. The Comps think I was kidnapped, so it’s possible I can still live in Haven as if nothing happened.

  But something did happen.

  My chest heaves in and out with quick, shallow breaths. Even if I stay, nothing will be the same. Cal’s betrayal twists inside me and emotions fire behind my eyes, clouding my thoughts. To make this decision, I need to take emotions out of the equation.

  Burn bends and ducks under the top of the crate. “Last chance.”

  I rub my ring, trying to clear the fog in my head, trying to locate logic through all the murk.

  “Time’s up.” Burn grabs my dust mask, hangs it up, then steps onto the ladder. With Drake on his chest, he barely fits, and when he’s down to his waist he turns to grab a rope that pulls the side of the crate back up.

  “Wait!” I shout and grab onto the edge of the wood. He stops pulling just before my fingers are crushed.

  “At least let me say good-bye to my brother.”

  Burn releases the rope and the weight of the wood falls onto my arms. As I back up, and Burn lowers the side to the floor, I hear the clink of metal hitting the ground behind me. I don’t turn.

  “Say good-bye then.” His voice is gruff and hard.

  “Come with us, please?” Drake reaches an ungloved hand toward me. He’s frightened; his armor is up. Burn hasn’t said anything in reaction, so I assume he already knew Drake was Deviant. Of course he did.

  “Keep safe.” My voice cracks. “Be careful. I love you.” I don’t know what else to say.

  Out in the hall, something thumps.

  “Time to go. Now.” Burn looks me in the eye and I see more depth than I expect. Along with the frustration and urgency, I see a hint of compassion.

  I have no reason to stay.

  “Out of my way.” I grab the dust mask.

  Burn’s lips almost move into a grin as he climbs out enough to let me get past him and onto the ladder. As I descend, I see what made the earlier clinking sound. My dating bracelet is on the concrete floor outside the crate. My breath catches but I ignore the sign of regret. Good riddance is more like it.