by Jill Cooper
“Bitchy?” Dirk asked with a shrug.
Jenna pretended not to find him funny as she unshackled her wrists and secured her end to the wall of the van. Once she was out, Dirk secured the door and studied the PDA in his hand. “Her information is uploading now. Another single mother. What do you think that says?”
She snorted. “That glistenings eat their mates after conception?” Jenna tussled her siren red hair, the feeling of stress leaving her now that she looked more like herself. She unbuttoned her dress, revealing a hidden outfit underneath.
“That glistenings make bad fathers?” Jameson said in their ear even though he was only a few feet away in the driver’s seat.
Jenna ripped herself free of the dress to reveal tight black pants and a black fitted shirt. She disposed of her dress on the curb and then slid into her seat behind the driver.
Jameson was a goofy-looking blond guy, young, with a narrow face and a pronounced nose. It was the type that stuck out in a crowd He wasn’t good-looking, but wasn’t ugly either.
The van lurched as they peeled away from the curb. From the back came wails from the glistenings as their clawed talons scraped at the doors. The cries turned into screams as a fresh jolt of electricity shot through their restraints and through their necks.
“Full house back there,” Jameson said with a full-on madman grin.
Dirk grinned, leaning his head back to eye Jenna. “Steaks, fries and drinks tonight on me. What do you guys say?”
Jameson sighed. “I have to prepare for my Xtreme Ironing competition, but I can stay for a few drinks.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “That’s about the only thing that sounds good to me right about now.” She leaned forward and turned the volume on the radio all the way up, tired of listening to the cries from the back. Ignoring the looks her team gave her, she crossed her arms, leaned back in her seat, and closed her eyes.
Chapter Six Jenna Morgan
The East Coast
New Haven 56 Project
New Haven 56 was a quiet suburb of perfected Americana encapsulated inside a bright shining bubble of protective magic and light. Each New Haven was the mirror of the last, except for minor improvements. Each had its own Main Street, the ice cream parlor on Broadway, and the moving picture theater on Third. There were no skyscrapers, malls, or towering apartment buildings. Houses in New Haven 55 were the exact replicas of homes in New Haven 1, right down to the paint chips and the modern plush carpets.
The music and cars appeared transplanted from a period piece drama about Buddy Holly, jukeboxes, and sock hops. Why glistenings preferred suburbia over large cities, and why this time period appealed to them, was unknown. But it kept them as docile as housebroken pets. The only problem was getting them to the camps in the first place. Most glistenings couldn’t admit what they were, and they preferred to live outside the system. They picked a quiet town and set up shop, pretending to be as normal as the humans they immolated. They’d get jobs, invite you over for dinner, and you wouldn’t know the difference until real life became too much for them. The stress would get to them, their blood pressure would plummet, and then they would gut humans like a fish.
Jenna tinkered with her handheld phone, playing an old-fashioned game called First Person Shooter. Cute 2-D games like that were long replaced by virtual 3-D reality, but Jenna was a sucker for the classics and liked cooperative play across the Internet best.
Glancing up for a moment, she saw there were still three cargo vans in front of them at New Haven 56’s checkpoint. Calm and relaxed, Jenna returned to her game and knew that once they cleared the bubble, Internet access would be restricted to local network only.
Glistenings might have been allowed to live, but their movements and freedoms were restricted. Jenna thought it was a small price to pay for life, and not one she’d afford them if given the option.
She and her team did good work, though. They had their problems, but had been together for ten years. Before things went bad, they were considered the highest-ranking investigation team in all of New Haven, running covert assignments across the U.S., some in Europe. What they did now was laughable and an embarrassment.
Only Jenna was to blame. Why they stuck with her after how she treated them was a mystery to her, but she was glad they did.
Dirk snapped his bubble gum while staring down at his phone. “Flank right. Frank right!” He signed. “Damn, Jen.”
Jenna smirked. “Oops. Sorry about that grenade, but we got the flag.”
Jameson glanced up to make sure traffic hadn’t advanced before returning to his phone. “Even in a game she’s ready to sacrifice you for the greater good of the team.”
“Har-har.”
Jenna sighed. “I hate being cooped up in this van. Oh, no offense, Jameson.”
“It ain’t the Ritz, I know.”
“What is these days?” Dirk asked. “I swear the glistenings have it better than we do most of the time. They get all the squares, jobs where they earn fake money, and even drive-ins. They don’t know how good they have it here.”
“They still make the cracker,” Jenna said.
Jameson gave a stilted laugh and rolled the van forward a few inches. “Perfect for my grandma’s homemade chicken soup.”
His grandma did make the best. “Do you think all the stories she told us are true? Was she really there the night it happened?”
“Can’t see why she’d lie. You know she was a child actress before it hit.”
Dirk snorted. “Just be glad she wasn’t a few years older or we’d be having this conversation with an unfertilized egg.”
Jenna chuckled. Her ears picked up movement from the back of the van. She leaned backwards and banged her fist against the wall. “Be still in there or I’ll make you, you get me!”
“I just wish they’d put the movie industry back together already. I’m tired of re-runs.”
“If only the virus hit before the Hannah Montana show.”
“It might have hit because of the Hannah Montana show.” Dirk corrected.
Jenna found that immensely funny, but fought against the urge to laugh. “Well I hear webisodes across the net are making a comeback. They’re a breath of fresh air over those Bollywood productions we’re forced to watch.”
“Hey,” Jameson said with offense. “Those are good. The girls are hot. Besides we don’t have much choice. India’s the only place left with an entertainment industry.”
Dirk chimed in. “I think it’s nice that everyone looks so normal without fake boobs and injected lips. Gives hope to the common woman, if you know what I mean.”
Jameson nodded his head, rolling the van further along. “I never got that fake-boob thing they used to do. Shouldn’t they squish when you grab them?”
Jenna glanced down at her own. They were nice, understated, and round. “Mine squish.” Dirk turned sideways and opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t even think about it, Dirk.”
Jameson shifted with discomfort, but kept his mouth closed.
“We kinda lucked out though. Look what happen to Japan.”
Jenna nodded, remembering stories she read how electronics used to be made there. Now it was nothing but a graveyard. Their obsession with plastic surgery did them in. Europe fared better and now former third world countries were racing to succeed Japan. Death and despair were always good motivators.
In front of them were several armed guards in matching black uniforms. The van rolled through the blue-hued magical bubble that kept the glistenings imprisoned inside as much as protected them from the humans that wanted to kill them. Jameson rolled down his window and stuck his badge outside for the officer to see.
“Officer Rick Jameson,” he said. “We’re bringing in four captures. Radioed ahead about four hours ago.”
Frank took the ID and compared it to the list on his clipboard. Some officers would use their PDA or cell phone to store the list, but Frank was older and didn’t rely on technology as a golden rule. His flashligh
t shined on the pad and through the constant stream of light a soft trickle of rain could be seen. “You guys been busy.” He handed his badge back to Jameson and peeked around the corner of his rolled down window. His long mustache flapped when he talked.
He shined his light into Dirk’s face first and then Jenna’s. “Just want to make sure you have no stowaways.”
“Why would I do that?” Jenna asked dryly.
“Wouldn’t be the first time you did something I couldn’t understand.” Frank gave them a grin and then waved them on. “Checkpoint C.” He slapped a piece of paper in Jameson’s hand before stepping back. A gate opened to allow them passage.
The van moved at a crawl over each speed bump. Surrounded on each side were the official buildings, and like all official buildings, they were uninspired rectangles. They weren’t exactly unsavory, but they were was dark, dank and felt more like army barracks rather than the quaint small-town life beyond. Jenna preferred it here; this, at least, was real.
Jameson pulled the van up beside a large brick building with several flights of stairs. They stopped inside a yellow grid that lit up when the engine was cut. Jumping out of the van, Jenna went to the back, made sure her gloves were secure, and threw the door open. “Welcome to your new home.”
Each of them was still in their monster form, unable to return to human form while in restraints. She made sure not to make eye contact. “One false move and this grid will fry you. I got you in here so your bounty is mine. It doesn’t matter to me if you head in there crispy or raw.” Jenna yanked three of their chains free and pulled them from the van.
“What’s all this ‘I’ business she’s always going on about?” Jameson asked.
Dirk somehow always ended up with an easier load than they did and wrestled with two. “There’s no I in team, Jenna.”
She snorted, pulling on her chains hard and it forced the glistenings onto their knees. “There’s no whiny-ass bastards either and I’m stuck with the two of you.”
Jameson grinned. “She likes us.”
“She really really does!” Dirk grinned back, maniacal and crazy.
Jenna, despite her best attempts, gave a short burst of laughter. Footsteps moving toward them caused her to pause and lengthen her posture to a rigid sort. Several officers approached and were led by the chief of New Haven 56 security, Travis Reynolds. He was a good guy and ran a tight ship. His feelings for the glistenings might not have been as hardened as her own, but his experiences were different than hers. He was a few years older with silver around his temples, always with a friendly smile. Travis shared it with her now.
She returned it, always feeling warmer in his presence.
“Nice load you have there. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming back.” As Travis spoke, the officers with him took the reins of the glistenings and lead them away toward the entrance to the building. There they would be tagged and kept in isolation until their wings were clipped and they were assigned homes and jobs. The indoctrination period took a solid three weeks of work.
“Took a while to fill the van this time.” Jenna explained.
“It’s beginning to seem like we’re running out of glistenings to hunt,” Dirk said.
Travis nodded in agreement. “I think we have most of them now. Everything else is just going to be slim pickings. Might be time for an assignment change for you three.”
Jenna couldn’t imagine doing anything else. “We can talk about that later. Right now there are a few steaks with our name on it.”
Jameson rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Want to join us?”
Travis shook his head. “Appreciate the offer, but have some things going on at home these days. Maybe soon. Welcome home, Jenna.”
“Always nice to be back,” she said dryly. “What’s going on at home?”
Dirk and Jameson grimaced. “Tact isn’t exactly her strong suit.”
“Don’t worry; it’s nothing about the job.” Travis grinned, heading back toward the building. “Now get out of here before I find something for you to do that is work-related!”
The men sprang into action, but Jenna stayed for a moment and watched after her boss, wondering what was wrong with his family. He wasn’t the type to offer flip information for no reason—maybe there was a reason he wanted her to know. In either case, Jenna was going to find out.
Chapter Seven Susan Monroe
The Monroe family gathered around the kitchen table for a traditional dinner of chicken, roasted potatoes, and brussels sprouts covered in melted cheese as quiet music played on the radio. Chatter was light and playful. Jeff leaned back in his chair, wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin delicately. “How was school, Marie? Jake?”
Susan picked up her glass of liquefied cow organs and sipped. It was chilled, perfect, but nothing tasted good on her palate. Nothing was the same since she watched Megan get carted away. It had been days ago, but still she had trouble sleeping and it was all she could think about. There was no word from Megan and when she called her family to feel things out, everyone was calm, like nothing happened.
It was like Megan was a disease, contagious, and now Susan was just supposed to go on like nothing happened? Like her best friend never existed? It was so easy to forget that New Haven was a cage. A well-guarded steel cage, and if they stepped out of line…
Her hand visibly shook the glass and the vibrant red juice sloshed around inside the crystal goblet. Susan lowered it back to the tablecloth and beneath it squeezed her hands together. Jeff met her eyes from across the way and Marie sighed dramatically.
“Did you guys even hear me?”
“You made the honor roll, big whoop. You make it every year.” Jake rolled his eyes while rolling his brussels sprouts.
“Eat your vegetables,” Susan said softly.
“Mom, it doesn’t matter how much cheese you put on them. They’re still brussels sprouts.”
“Listen to your mother and eat your greens.” Jeff said. “She went to much trouble to pick up those extra rations today and I won’t have you wasting them.”
Jake sighed. “Fine, but in a few months I’ll be an adult and then I can eat what I want.”
“Well, thank God.” Marie said, crossing her arms. “Then maybe some of us will get to eat a bit more without the garborator here chomping it all up!”
“Have you thought on what type of job you’re going to apply for after graduation?” Jeff asked. “I could always use the help at the restaurant if you want to apply. Maybe chef or prep cook?”
Jake paused in the cutting of his chicken for just a moment. “I thought maybe television repair man.”
Marie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Golly gee, Jake, you think you have the intelligence for that?”
“Yeah, I do,” Jake said defensively. “I can do it if I want to. Right, Mom?”
Susan’s head snapped over to her son. “Pardon me, what?” Her eyes were moist and she watched in horror as both her children’s faces fell. “You know, I’m going to put on the coffee and get dessert ready.” She slid her chair back and stood. “Hand me your plates if you’re done.”
She took each of them and didn’t comment like she normally would on the uneaten bits of food. She scraped the remains into the garbage basket and started loading the dishwasher.
“Kids, why don’t you go put on Laverne and Shirley? We’ll serve dessert in there in a minute.” The wooden chairs slid against the floor. Susan’s dishes clanked together in the dishwasher as she latched the door shut and picked up the wet sponge in the sink. She nearly dissolved into a fit of tears as Jeff’s strong arms wrapped around her back, and his head rested against hers.
Sobs lodged in her throat, and the sponge slipped from her hand back into the porcelain blue bowl. “I,” her voice was unsure, squeaking, “can’t. I can’t do this, Jeff.”
“Yes, you can,” he whispered. The warm kiss from his lips on the back of her neck used to be enough to pull her back from the brink,
but not now. Eyes squeezed, she counted to ten, pictured sheep, children parading through town in perfect dresses, and mouthed you are human, you are not a glistening.
Susan shook her head and Jeff spun her toward him. He took her face in his hands and gave her a long, slow, kiss. “Baby, look at me.” He repeated it more forcefully. “Look at me.”
Her head lifted and his, intense gaze strengthened her. “They just took her,” Susan whispered, “she’s gone. Just like that.”
“Because of what she did. What she said. Marie, I can’t have that happen to you.” Jeff’s lip trembled and the fear on his face was so palpable, Susan felt it. “You have to pull it together. Let’s have some pie before I have to head back to the restaurant tonight. All right?”
Susan nodded, fast and erratic. Her fingers probed her wet cheeks, making sure they were dry. “I must look a mess.”
“Beautiful as always.” Jeff kissed her, whispering his love for her against her cheek. “Why don’t you run upstairs and freshen up a little and I’ll cut the pie.”
Susan stared at him like he had two heads. “You? Do you even know where we keep the pie server?”
Jeff chuckled, breaking out a toothy grin. “You could show me. How’s that for a start?”
She nodded and her curls bounced along with her. Susan opened a drawer and showed him. “Try not to crack the crust too badly, dear.”
“And you,” Jeff kissed her chin delicately, “go upstairs and take care of yourself. This family, we need you, honey.”
She was so thankful for him, to be loved so completely. Susan gazed at him to tell him that and stroked back his hair delicately. After one more brief kiss she excused herself upstairs, her heels sinking into the plush lined stairs. Up on the second floor, Susan used the common bathroom to pat her face dry and put on a new coat of lipstick. She thought she heard something in the hall.
Susan pushed the door open and stood in the intersection between the three bedrooms. “Marie, is that you?”