Deviants (The Dust Chronicles)

by Maureen McGowan

  Besides, it’s too late to climb back out to get it. The box closes, and for the second time today, I descend into the unknown. And this time there’s no going back.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DARKNESS PRESSES IN on me, crushing, grinding, choking, and I stumble, tightening my grip on Burn’s coat. He stops, presumably to make sure I’m still on my feet.

  “Can’t we use the light?” I ask in a whisper.

  “Not yet.”

  “Drake?”

  “I’m fine.” His voice is hushed but strong.

  Burn might be leading us to our deaths but at least we’re still both alive. Hearing my brother’s voice instantly makes me feel better. I put my hand out and touch the wall of the tunnel, damp and slimy, and so close. Even with his night-vision goggles, I can’t understand how Burn’s navigating without slamming into its sides or top. Our pace has been so fast I’m panting, and I shudder as a drop of sweat slithers down my back.

  “Ready to move?” Burn asks. He doesn’t wait for a reply before his coat slips out of my hand. I lunge, grabbing into the near darkness to find it again.

  Assuming he doesn’t plan to kill us, is this my life now? Life underground in the darkness, in this dank, stale air?

  Living in the Pents my whole life, I’ve been jealous of the children of Management who lived on lower floors, where the air was clearer and cooler. Although I never imagined places like that underground shopping mall existed, I did know there was a layer of Haven under the streets. I always imagined it to be a magical place. While the mall didn’t disappoint on that count, in fact it far exceeded my wildest fantasies in the boundless luxury department, it never occurred to me that anything underground could be as horrible as this. In Haven, lower levels mean higher status. Not the case here.

  After countless steps, Burn stops and I slam into his back.

  A whirring sound, followed by torchlight, floods the tunnel.

  “You need to rest?” Burn’s body is a hulking silhouette, and when he looks back I shake my head no.

  “Drink.” He hands me a bladder of water made of hides that must be from huge rats, and I take several gulps before handing it to Drake. He’s still strapped on Burn’s chest but turned forward now, his legs dangling.

  The walls of the tunnel are stone here, not concrete. And except for the occasional blast mark, they almost seem natural, not manmade with wooden or steel supports like they were right after we entered. And the strange iron rails on the ground have gone.

  I’ve walked all the way across Haven more than once and it feels like we’ve been walking much longer than that, but I can’t be certain because we’ve made so many turns. I have a poor sense of direction, even with visual cues. “Where are we?”

  “The meeting point,” Burn says as if that means something. Then carefully holding Drake, he undoes the harness and sets my brother down against the wall of the tunnel. “We’ll rest here and wait. He’ll be here soon.”

  My body clenches. “Who?”

  “Dad?” Drake asks.

  “You’ll see.”

  I decide to ignore Burn’s non-answer and crouch to check my brother’s legs.

  “I’m fine, Glory.” He swats my hands away.

  Burn shrugs his coat off. “You comfortable?” he asks Drake. Without waiting for an answer, he folds the coat shielding all the weapons and puts it behind Drake’s back like a cushion.

  Burn sets the torch on the ground but it’s fading. I pick it up and turn the crank. He doesn’t object, rather he leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, so I shine the light ahead of us. While it doesn’t project very far, I can’t see an end to the tunnel.

  “Put that down and get some rest,” Burn says.

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” I shine the torch into his eyes,

  He scowls as he squints. “Stop that.”

  “I need some answers.”

  He swats at the torch, so I aim the light away from his face. “How old are you?” I’m not sure why I want to know that—why it matters, why I put it at the top of a gazillion more important questions—but he keeps bossing me around and it’s making me crazy.

  He doesn’t reply and I’m not surprised. Of course he wouldn’t share a personal detail. That would make him human, vulnerable. Can’t have that.

  “Sixteen, maybe seventeen.” He shifts his bulk on the stone wall.

  “How come you’re not sure?”

  “Never knew my parents.” His shoulders twitch. “Sit, rest. Try to sleep. You’ll thank me later.”

  “Thank you for dragging me into this tunnel?”

  He grunts but it’s almost a laugh.

  I step forward, shoulders back. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Not a chance.” His dark eyes flash a smile in my direction as the light from the torch fades.

  My eyes snap open in the near darkness. Rat dung, I curse under my breath. I fell asleep.

  Next to me Drake is still out, and I’m glad at least that Burn didn’t murder us while we slept. There’s neither a sun light nor a moon light turned on down here, so there’s no way to tell what time it is, or how long I slept, but I sense it wasn’t long.

  Muffled voices drift toward me and I realize that’s probably what woke me. I turn and see the faint light of a torch, surrounded by two male shapes farther down the tunnel. I press my back into the stone for a moment and draw deep breaths, banishing the fear threatening to invade.

  Slowly standing, keeping pressed against the wall, I creep toward the voices, not sure of my plan, but knowing I can’t develop one unless I know what I’m dealing with. Eavesdropping seems the best strategy.

  The shape on this side of the tunnel is Burn, no mistaking his height, and the other shape isn’t nearly as tall or as broad. The unidentified man bends one leg at the knee to rest a foot against the wall of the tunnel behind him, then runs a hand down his bent thigh and drums his fingers on his knee.

  I raise my hand to my mouth to stifle a gasp. I’d know that gesture anywhere.

  Dad?

  Joy rushes through me, rising, building, making me feel like I’m about to burst. I rush forward, but then catch myself and stop.

  What is wrong with me? This monster killed my mother, paralyzed my brother, and left us to fend for ourselves, and now I’m acting the same way I did when I spotted my parents after being lost in the crowded Hub at age four. I’m acting like a baby.

  And that’s far from the only problem. Besides the fact that I let myself feel such an inappropriate emotion, what happened to my plan to be stealthy? Rushing forward like a little kid won’t keep me hidden, won’t help me learn what’s going on. I know better than that, and letting a murderer see me certainly won’t keep me alive.

  My heart thumps in my chest, but neither of them heard my near outburst, so I creep forward more slowly until I’m about ten feet away. Keeping to the darkness, I listen.

  “She’s mostly scared,” Burn says. “And angry.”

  “Dangerous?” My father asks and I want to yell out that I am, but I don’t.

  “Nah,” he says. “Not really. She’s got great control.”

  My father nods. “Good. She’s a smart girl. I hoped she’d find a way to deal with it once she understood what was happening.” He lifts his hand to scratch his head. “I should have been around to help her, though.” His voice is deeper than I remember, more filled with gravel, and if I hadn’t recognized the way he drums his fingers on his knee, I’m not sure I’d know him. Now that my eyes are adjusting, his face is different, as if his skin is thicker and darker, like he’s covered in tanned leather.

  “We’ve kept an eye out since you were exed,” Burn says. “I’ve been assigned to her for the past year.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  He’s had people spying on me for three years?

  “She must hate me.”

  No kidding.

  Burn shifts against the wall. “Drake’s excited to see you.”


  “I can’t wait to hold him in my arms.”

  Enough. No way am I letting this man get another crack at killing my brother.

  Even if that’s not his plan, he doesn’t deserve Drake’s unconditional adoration. And this casual chat between Burn and my father is more than I can stand.

  I stride forward, pushing out of the shadows, too angry to care about hiding, too angry to think. “Did I hear you thank Burn for stalking me?” I shout at my father. “How long have you had me under surveillance? And why? So you could come back and finish off the members of your family you missed the first time?” If he thinks he can hurt me or Drake…“I’ve got powers now, ways to protect myself. So does Drake.” Pressure builds in my ears as blood rushes through my ears.

  My father pushes off the side of the tunnel and turns to stand in front of me, his posture awkward and stiff, every muscle taut. He’s several feet away, and with the light from the torch shining down, all I can see is his shape—slight compared to Burn, yet bulkier than I remember. His hand stretches toward me then drops to his side. “Hello, Glory.”

  “That’s all you have to say?” I form tight fists. If I could find his eyes in this light I’d finish him off right now, but they’ve turned one of their torches in my direction, blinding me, so I stare where I assume my dad’s eyes must be.

  I’ll show him just how dangerous I am.

  Not hearing screams of agony, I shield my eyes and step forward to improve my aim.

  The beam of light from the torch drops, then changes shape on the floor of the tunnel as Burn steps toward me. “I’ll get the kid.”

  “Leave him alone.” I grab Burn’s arm as he passes.

  He leans in and growls, “I’m not going to hurt him.”

  In spite of his menacing tone, I believe him. At least I’d rather have Drake with Burn than my father. I snap my attention back to the real danger.

  Burn’s menacing presence in my life these past few days—like standing under a massive weight held by a thread—seems suddenly comforting. I don’t want him to leave me alone with my father, and I take a step back toward Burn and Drake.

  My father must sense my fear, or maybe he’s the one who’s afraid, because he remains still, letting me increase the distance between us. His torch shoots light across the tunnel in front of him, and the fingers of his other hand splay. He’s tense, too. Either that or he’s getting ready to strangle me with those long fingers—or break my back, like Drake’s. I don’t even know the nature of my father’s Deviance.

  If he’s just going to stand there, not saying anything, threatening me with his size and silence, then I can do the same. If he thinks I’m going to forgive him, even talk to him, he’s got another think coming.

  He reaches toward me and I stumble back a few steps.

  “Glory.”

  “Don’t touch me.”

  His hand drops back to his side. “You’ve grown so tall.”

  “It’s been three years.”

  “I know and I’m so sorry. I wanted to send for you two sooner, but my life”—he stares at his feet—“I didn’t want to take you away from your friends, from the only world you knew….” His voice trails off.

  “Sorry isn’t good enough.” I spit the words, and as they fly toward him I realize I’ve stepped forward. His long arms could span the space between us now but they don’t.

  His head drops and I watch as his fingers pulse at his side, stretching and relaxing in a constant rhythm, like he’s resisting using them to kill me.

  Studying my father’s hand, I imagine the damage it could do, try to dig out the long buried memories, but instead of the ones I want, the memory that floods forward is one featuring that same pulsing hand on my back, its rhythmic movements comforting, stroking, brushing away my childhood fears when I woke from a nightmare. It wasn’t just Mom who took care of us. He did, too. My throat tightens.

  My father lifts his face and when our eyes meet his expression changes, but not to pain—there’s a soft smile in his eyes, something tender. He reaches for me again.

  I snap out of my nostalgia-induced happiness. I can’t let one happy memory fog this moment’s true and valid emotions. Narrowing my eyes, I let anger build and release my hate.

  “Murderer.” The word shoots from me with venom. Our eyes lock. I can sense his heart beating strong and fast. I squeeze.

  His hand flies to his chest; the torch drops to the stone floor with a clatter. He groans.

  I’ve hurt him—really hurt him—and although I shouldn’t care, I do.

  Breaking eye contact, I rush forward as he drops to a crouch. My hand lands on his back. He grabs me, rises, and pulls me into his arms. And the scent of his skin, like leather and smoke, brings back another rush of memories—memories that rouse emotions I don’t want.

  I push against him. “Let me go or I’ll kill you like you killed mom.”

  His arms drop off me like we’re magnets of opposite polarities and I slam into the wall.

  “Glory, no,” Drake calls out and my head snaps around to see Burn carrying Drake.

  My mask dangles from Burn’s hand. “Don’t leave this behind—ever.”

  I grab it from him.

  “Dad.” Drake reaches out and our father pulls him from Burn’s arms into his own. “I knew you’d come back for us.” Drake, the foolish little traitor, buries his face in our father’s neck.

  “Let him go.” I grab Drake by the shoulders and try to pull him away from the murderous monster.

  “Stop.” Drake glares at me. “Dad’s not going to hurt me.”

  “How can you say that when—”

  Burn plants his hand over my mouth, muffling the rest of my sentence, and raises the other hand to silence us all. He adjusts his harness and then grabs Drake and straps him onto his chest. “We’ve got company.” He tips his head back in the direction we’ve come from. “Let’s move. Quickly. Quietly. Now.”

  His voice comes out like a deep hum. He shuts off his torch, grabs my wrist, and directs my hand to the tail of his coat. The coat pulls me forward, and holding tight, I race behind Burn in the darkness, with the heat of my father’s breath in pursuit.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  BURN STOPS AND, without warning, lifts me above his head and shoves me into what feels like a narrow cave, almost like a shelf dug into the side of the tunnel. Frantic, I reach out and find the back, roof, and one side with my hands, then the other side with an outstretched foot. The space is like a box carved out of the stone, about five feet deep and wide and less than four feet high.

  “Glory?” Drake says softly, and I reach toward the voice and pull my brother in beside me, and then another body moves in, and I can tell from the smell it’s my father. He touches my arm but I shrug him off, and he makes a soft sound, like I’ve slapped him.

  There’s a pause and I wonder what’s happened to Burn. Is he going to hide somewhere else? Fight on his own? Or is this all part of his plan? Perhaps the people following us are his allies and we’re stored here for dinner.

  But soon I smell Burn’s hot scent. With those goggles, he’s the only one of us who can see and the only one with the strength to get into this high cave on his own. His presence heats the closed air as he arranges us until we’re sitting, hunched over and in a row against the back wall. Drake is between me and our father and Burn’s on my other side.

  The footsteps draw closer and a faint glow fills the tunnel, revealing a junction. As well as continuing straight ahead, another tunnel branches off. We should have taken one path, giving us a 50 percent chance of escape. Trapped in this cave, we’re dead if they spot us.

  “Which way?” asks a voice and everything inside me lurches. It sounds like Cal but can’t be. My insides crawl like my nerves want out, and I’m not sure whether I want to run into Cal’s arms or kill him for his betrayal.

  Burn’s arm shoots across my body, pressing me back against the wall of the cave. He recognized Cal’s voice, too.

  “
You’re the one who thinks they came down here,” a deep voice says.

  “Wild goose chase,” says a man with a gruff voice.

  “All I did was find her bracelet.” Cal’s voice is even and strong.

  My stomach flutters. Clearly, my stupid stomach has forgotten his betrayal.

  “Where are they headed?” Gruff Voice asks.

  “If I knew, we’d be there,” Cal answers. “I didn’t even know this tunnel existed.”

  Cal’s helping the Comps track us, which confirms my worst assumptions. My throat tightens and I feel the signs of my curse building behind my eyes. I hate Cal. I hate him with all my heart, and if I could see into his eyes right now, I’d show him how much.

  Something brushes my head, and I tense but soon realize Burn’s putting his night-vision goggles onto my face. Once they’re on, everything’s bathed in a strange green light and I spin toward Drake. He’s scared, likely because my father’s arm is slung over his shoulder. How dare he?

  But I’m kidding myself about the source of my brother’s fear. Drake’s leaning his head into the pit of our father’s arm and is cuddled up to the man as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. I choke down disbelief. The person who paralyzed him is not the reason he’s scared.

  Burn touches my arm and I turn back toward him. “Quiet,” he mouths. He draws a finger across his throat.

  One of the men moves into view and leans back against the tunnel wall, almost directly across from the cave near the junction. He’s a Comp in full armor, and the light from his torch glints off his heavy chest plate. The mouth of our cave is level with his head, and if he raises his torch light a few feet, we’ll be visible.

  “Shine that light over here.” Cal steps into view and points to the branched-off tunnel.

  “You don’t give the orders.” Gruff Voice shoves him and Cal slams into the wall in front of us. His head is so close to the cave’s entrance, if I slid forward and straightened my legs, I could kick him. For an instant I want to and then I come to my senses.