Deviants (12 page)

“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 best 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.

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

^D
ARKNESS 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.