Glistening Haven: A Shape Shifting Dystopian Boxset

by Jill Cooper

  Jenna looked outside the window and saw the cruisers sliding sideways right toward her. She didn’t feel ready to die, but knew it might be coming. Jenna said a prayer, and undid her seat belt, and felt someone yanking her backwards out of the rear door. Jenna fell with an umphf onto the ground, on top of Dirk. The van skidded toward them and they scampered on their knees into the ditch.

  They watched as the van’s twisted metal slammed down the street with the two police squad cars. They rotated as a unit down the stretch of highway like well-trained dancers, twirling in the moonlight. The tires squealed and sparks flew from beneath the engine. Jenna almost expected them to catch fire or explode, but they finally stopped, turning slightly left before hitting the guardrail.

  Dirk secured her in a hug, his forearm wrapped around her neck, and kissed the ruffled hair atop her head. “You know how to show a guy a good time.”

  She spun on her heels to face him, adrenaline surging. Her hand pulled on his hair and forced his lips down to her to meet his. His arms grabbed her shoulders, spun her around and up off her feet. Jenna squealed, biting his lip. A big smile played across her face.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you smile, you know that?” Dirk’s eyes glinted and for a moment all Jenna felt was happiness. She almost forgot what it felt like.

  “I love you.” Jenna said. “And I hope it was worth the wait.”

  Dirk touched her chin, licking his lips. “You’re like a fine wine, Jenna. You get better with age.”

  Her mind consumed with thoughts of love, they rushed over to the squad cars. Jenna threw one of the squad car doors open. Inside were two disoriented officers. One was bleeding and the other barely conscious. “Gentlemen,” she said, “you are hereby relieved of duty.”

  The driver groaned and turned his head. His eyes were mere slits. She could see muscles throbbing as his forehead swelled, right before her eyes. “Screw you.”

  Jenna smiled. “We’ll keep you company until the ambulance gets here. Then I think the Justice Department is going to have a few questions.”

  She slammed the door shut. Over the horizon, the sun was rising. The orange hues danced through the trees and she thought morning had never seemed so beautiful. It was one of the longest days of her life and not one she wanted to repeat any time soon.

  Dirk looked at her as he stood guard beside the trooper cars. She smiled at him, shyly, wondering what he was thinking. When he grinned, she knew, and she felt it too. Things were going to be better than they had in a long time. Life wasn’t perfect. New Haven’s future was uncertain. But now they had each other.

  The only thing left was for Jenna to wrap up her investigation, write a report, buy a baby gift, and visit Wendy Reynolds. Yeah, her day wasn’t going to get any less busy any time soon.

  When her phone rang, Jenna was feeling chipper. “Officer Morgan.”

  “Officer Morgan, Sergeant Lynch from the state police.”

  “Sergeant Lynch, are you calling with an update on Wendy?” Jenna asked, walking away from the commotion .

  “Yes. I regret to inform you, the girl was pronounced dead upon arrival. I’m told her organs were in failure and she lost too much blood to be saved. I’m sorry. I’ve heard you were a good friend with her family.”

  Jenna nodded, tears obscuring her vision. She thought she might have said “thank you,” but wasn’t sure. She slid the phone closed, and fell to her knees. When she started crying, Dirk was there with her, but Jenna might as well have been alone. After everything, she failed her promise to the Chief. She guessed now that the promise was going to have to fall to someone else.

  To a yet-to-be-named half-glistening baby, halfway to Chicago by now.

  Chapter Thirty Alistar

  Alistar Humphrey sat in his formal dining room with dinner before him—glazed pork with carrots and a baked potato as he was served every Friday—and read the evening paper. Most people didn’t read newspapers anymore, even the ones that updated automatically with web updates. But he was old-fashioned, and liked the feeling of paper between his fingers.

  He was obsessed, now, with watching the stories update as he tracked the disaster that was the New Haven 56 mission. From the blown investigation of the chief’s death into the corruption of the New Haven police force, all of it led back to him and the press conference that Rebecca Seers held, just hours before, in front of a small plaza. It sealed his fate.

  Alistar cast out his wife, his personal assistants and asked one last time for his favorite glazed pork roast. He enjoyed it with a little red wine and a few shots of whiskey that he had been saving for a special occasion. No occasion was more special than the one in which you realize your life’s work was over. That everything you held dear would soon be ripped from you. It certainly wasn’t how he was expecting to ride out into retirement.

  The newspaper shifted again and the headline changed: Congress to seek Alistar Humphrey’s Testimony. Queasy, he clicked on it and watched the video that filled the black and white paper.

  “New evidence reveals that Alistar Humphrey schemed to murder Chief of Police Travis Reynolds’ daughter, Wendy. He took steps to frame one of the members from his own police force, and now Congress seeks to have Humphrey testify in open court to determine if he should be removed from his position, without pension. Laurel Davis, already in custody for her involvement, has given the authorities a list of corrupt officers and is cooperating to the fullest extent. No word yet whether she’s getting immunity from the government.

  “Jenna Morgan, disgraced last year for her involvement in non-sanctioned glistening killings, was instrumental in exposing the cover up and is expected to report to Congress. Some are calling for the half-glistening baby to be brought forth for tests.”

  Alistar turned off the video, not wanting to hear any more. He took another shot of whiskey, nearly breaking the delicate crystal in his hand. A knock at the door told him that he had come to the end of the line.

  “Sir,” rang out the nervous voice. “The FBI is here, to escort you to Washington.”

  Quietly, he folded his paper and put it across his lap. He picked up the small revolver beneath his napkin, cocked the safety, and placed it squarely under the soft spot of his jaw.

  He’d be damned if he was going to make excuses for all he had done. For humanity. For the country. All this civilization was to his credit. If not for him, humans would still be hiding under bridges and demolished buildings. Instead they were back in skyscrapers, art was back, music was alive and well. The U.S. government was back in power. They had a president, a Congress, and the voice of the people was louder than ever. And for this, he had to apologize?

  For nothing.

  The door shattered and officers rushed in.

  Alistar pulled the trigger.

  Epilogue

  Undisclosed New Haven facility

  The lab was dark.

  They kept it this way so that she couldn’t see. The confines of her cell were small, with only a cot to keep her company. Through the hours that turned into days, it was her comforter and her friend.

  The drugs they pumped into her body kept her asleep. Her consciousness drifted. She remembered only men in white sneakers, talking in hushed voices.

  And needles.

  So many needles and so many tests. She didn’t know why or to what end they serviced. She could barely remember her name.

  Her hair was dirty. Like jungle vines, strands clung to her face. She moaned, barely able to move off of her pillow. Her wrists, with puffy and dark blue veins, fell slack and dangled off the mattress.

  Who was she? What was her purpose and why did so many people she didn’t know what to hurt her?

  Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She was on the cusp of another seizure, thanks to their medicine. Thanks to everything they were trying to do. But, she didn’t know what that was. They told her things, whispered things to her that made no sense.

  What was it they called her?


  Her mind begged for a savior. Someone to come and find her. She used to have a mother. Someone who always took care of her.

  She was a mother too. To a dead baby.

  Her body seized. Her body slammed the bed frame into the concrete floor. Her hair flew past her eyes and the sound of an alarm and the rush of footsteps rushed to greet her.

  She saw their lab coats and the insignia of New Haven on their lapels. She grabbed at one, consciousness ripping from her brain. “Help me,” she begged.

  His eyes were kind and warm. His expression was nearly blank. It reminded her of Jake.

  She grimaced as a needle pinched into her arm. “Ow,” she moaned, going slack in his arms. She could see, but could no longer move.

  “It’ll okay.” His whisper against her cheek relaxed her. He smoothed her hair back and his skin was soft. “Wendy, it’s going to be okay.”

  Glistening Rebellion

  Jill Cooper

  Copyright © 2013, Jill Cooper

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without permission by the author. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to a person living or dead is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1493723683

  ISBN-13: 1493723685

  Cover Design: Design for Writers

  Other Books by Jill Cooper

  YA Series Dream Slayer

  The Dream Slayer: Book 1

  Demon Royale: Book 2

  The Uninvited: A Dream Slayer Novella

  Dawning Apocalypse: Book 3

  The Rewind Agency Series

  15 Minutes

  15 Minute Novellas (coming 2014)

  Adult Dystopian Series

  Glistening Haven

  Glistening Rebellion

  Romance

  Devour (coming 2014)

  Preface

  In the first glistening war, California was the first to fall. The sheer number of people using dangerous products on the west coast caused a cloud of glistenings, over a million strong, to emerge and begin feeding on every human in sight. When they ran out of humans, they ate the livestock, wildlife, and even birds. California became a wasteland.

  The deserts to the east had little food and the glistening swarm worked its way up the coast, killing everyone and everything in the coastal cities and regions of Oregon, Washington State and British Columbia.

  The US and Canadian governments joined together against this enemy, ignoring borders, treaties, and laws. When the glistening horde descended on Vancouver there were over five million of the vicious monsters. The city was ash and twisted metal in an hour.

  On the East Coast, New York was burning. Glistenings destroyed the five boroughs and were working their way down toward Baltimore and Washington DC. Dallas, Austin, and Houston were war zones as well. Farther north, Chicago, Toronto, and Montreal were all in the grip of heavy fighting between humans and glistenings. US and Canadian air forces were beginning to bomb entire city neighborhoods to destroy glistenings.

  And they were losing.

  It was a moment of utter desperation. With millions of glistenings bottled up in British Columbia, Texas on the brink of obliteration and humans in the mid-west fighting for their lives, the nukes were launched.

  The bombs dropped on San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle and Vancouver. Over twenty million glistenings were estimated to have been killed. With the Texans losing ground, the bombs fell on Dallas, Houston, and Austin. The Air Force used napalm to kill large glistening nests in Chicago, saving much of the city, but Toronto and Montreal were lost to the hordes and the bombs fell there as well.

  The horde moving south from New York had stopped to feast on the city of Philadelphia and in a flash of light and heat it was wiped from the face of the earth.

  Over half of North America was now a nuclear wasteland. The glistenings on both coasts fled into the center of the continent, feeding on smaller cities and herds of livestock. By the time the nations had regrouped and moved armies inland, no human was left alive between the Mississippi and the Pacific Ocean. Only Mexico, the East Coast and Western Canada were still populated.

  Excerpt from ‘Glistening Swarm: A History of War’

  A year ago in an undisclosed New Haven facility….

  The lab was dark.

  They kept it this way so that she couldn’t see. The confines of her cell were small, with only a cot to keep her company. Through the hours that turned into days, it was her comforter and her friend.

  The drugs they pumped into her body kept her asleep. Her consciousness drifted. She remembered only men in white sneakers, talking in hushed voices.

  And needles.

  So many needles and so many tests. She didn’t know why or to what end they serviced. She could barely remember her name.

  Her hair was dirty. Like jungle vines, they clung to her face. She moaned, barely able to move off of her pillow. Her wrist, with puffy and dark blue veins, fell slack and dangled off the mattress.

  Who was she? What was her purpose and why did so many people she didn’t know want to hurt her?

  Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She was on the cusp of another seizure, thanks to their medicine. Thanks to everything they were trying to do. But, she didn’t know what that was. They told her things, whispered things to her things that made no sense.

  What was it they called her?

  Her mind begged for a savior. Someone to come and find her. She used to have a mother. Someone that always took care of her.

  She was a mother too. To a dead baby.

  Her body seized. Her body slammed the bed frame into the concrete floor. Her hair flew past her eyes and the sound of an alarm and the rush of footsteps rushed to greet her.

  She saw their lab coats and the insignia of New Haven on their lapels. She grabbed at one, consciousness ripping from her brain. “Help me,” she begged.

  His eyes were kind and warm. His expression was nearly blank. It reminded her of Jake.

  She grimaced as a needle pinched into her arm. “Ow,” she moaned, going slack in his arms. She could see, but could no longer move.

  “It’ll okay,” his whisper against her cheek relaxed her. He smoothed her hair back and his skin was soft, “Wendy, it’s going to be okay.”

  Glistening Rebellion

  Chapter One Jake

  Nuefeld Family Wheat Farm

  Rural Saskatchewan Territory of the Canadian State

  Winter was approaching.

  Jake spooned the last bit of roast turkey and gravy into his mouth. Then he picked up his napkin. "Thank you again, Ms. Nuefeld, for the great supper."

  It was a cramped farmhouse kitchen with plaques and wooden spoons lining the walls. The small round table was covered in food worthy of a feast. Sage hung in the air while the oven brought over wafts of cinnamon and nutmeg. There was a time when Jake had eaten with the Nuefelds every night, but now it was a rare treat. They were nice people and Jake liked them, even if he should keep his distance. Nice people often ended up hurt when they befriended him, but he was more careful now.

  Jackie Nuefeld gathered up some plates to bring to the counter. "We should be thanking you. You drive a combine like it's second nature. With George suddenly missing, there was no one around to help. Thank you for stepping in, Nick."

  Jake hid a scowl behind his napkin. He'd never get used to being someone else, even if it was for the best. From behind the napkin he could see Liz’s eyes on him. She was close to his age and unassuming with a splattering of freckles across her nose. Her hair was a soft auburn that sometimes Jake thought about touching. He could imagine how soft her locks would be through his fingers.

  Her face often danced with a gentle smile when their eyes locked, but he had to pretend not to notice. All through dinner she looked at him, but rarely said a word. It was a good thing, because sometimes when she did speak, her voice made his heart skip a beat.

  Mark, a middle aged man who appeared more weathered than his age,
ran his tongue over his teeth and huffed. “Missing? You make it sound like the NH had nothing to do with it.”

  A shiver ran down Jake’s spine. Up here he was just another farmer trying to make his way and avoiding the mandatory army enlistment. Farmers were pardoned because of how desperate the US was for food.

  But that didn’t mean they were free. Far from it.

  “We have no proof.” Jackie said but she was monotone. Listless. She balanced a few dishes in her hand.

  “Proof is something you don’t bring to the NH even if you have it. We’ll make due. Like we always do. And pay our taxes. God willing, let’s hope we’ll make it through another winter.”

  His face was lined with worry and Jake felt for him. He was a glistening. Maybe he hadn’t been there when the glistening swarms ascended on the country and ravaged it like a plague of locusts. But he was a glistening. It was his blood, his legacy. And something he hadn’t been taught in New Haven 56. Now that he knew…

  “We have food, Papa.” Liz said.

  Mark crumbled up his napkin. “For now. If the frost comes early…” The worry lines on his face increased and so did Jake’s guilt.

  “You’ll make it through just fine.” Jake nodded his head at the family. “And if you come up short, give me a call. I’ll make sure we all get through.”

  Jackie glanced at her daughter who was close to Jake's age. "No sense worrying on the future. Help with the dishes, won't you, Liz?" The girl snapped her head toward her mother.

  “Sure…Mom.” Her smile was distracted and a slow blush spread across her cheeks.