Glow (21 page)

“Are your parents still aboard the New Horizon?”

“My father passed away several years ago. My mother died on Earth when I was a baby. She was never quite right after giving birth to me, and didn’t last long. Daddy fought so hard to come on this mission. He took the aptitude tests three times.”

“I thought only once was allowed.”

“We had money,” Amanda said, shamefaced. “He bribed the administrator.”

“Oh.” Waverly wondered if everyone on the mission to New Earth came from wealthy families. Did lots of impoverished geniuses get left behind because they couldn’t pay off the selection committees?

Amanda took the photo from Waverly and hung it back in its place.

“I know it’s unfair,” she finally said. “But it’s the way things were on Earth. Every year it got a little hotter, more farmland dried up, and so there was less to go around. So every year people got more desperate. Those conditions don’t bring out the best in people.”

Amanda’s expression darkened as she brushed at the canvas with the tip of her finger. Waverly watched her curiously. Few adults had ever been quite so honest about the corruption leading up to the mission. It was refreshing to be with someone who was frank about it.

She might tell me what really happened on Earth,
Waverly thought.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you a question,” Amanda said tentatively.

“What?”

“Well, we’re trying to find better living situations for you girls. We want to place you with families. Until we can find your parents, of course.”

“Of course,” Waverly said, wondering grimly if Amanda knew about the captives in the cargo hold. If she did know, she gave no sign. She simply looked happy to have Waverly in her home. She’d baked fresh bread for the occasion, and more of the oatmeal cookies sat in a bowl within Waverly’s reach. They smelled delicious after the bland food she’d been eating for the last few days, but she resisted them. She’d learned how confusing it was to accept kindness from her captors.

“I’m wondering if maybe you would … Josiah and I would love…” The woman smiled uncomfortably. “We want you to stay with us.”

Waverly looked at her warily. “Why?”

“We like you,” Amanda said with a shy shrug. “And we thought you might like us. We even…” Her eyes fell to the table, still messy with wood shavings and small bottles of paint. A half-finished guitar lay on top of the clutter. “Well, we made you a room. Want to see it?”

Without waiting for a response, she took Waverly by the hand and led her down a short hallway and into a very small room, complete with a bed, a desk, and a lamp. Above the bed hung a photograph of a horse, looking at the camera sloe-eyed. The room was hardly large enough for two people to stand in. It felt like a glorified jail cell.

“It’s not much,” Amanda said, “but it would be all yours. You’d have some privacy. And your own porthole.”

Waverly went to the oval porthole and looked into the murky nebula. There were no stars visible now, only that sludgy gas swirling outside the window. How much longer would they be trapped in this horrible cloud?

“Well? Would you like that?” Amanda asked eagerly. Waverly turned to face the woman, whose tall form seemed to fill the doorway. Amanda leaned on the door frame, straining toward the girl with hopeful eyes.

“I guess I could stay here,” Waverly finally said. If she had no choice but to be moved from the dormitory, she might as well be with people who seemed harmless.

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Amanda’s bright smile made her green eyes shine. “I’ll ask the Pastor if she’ll give her consent.”

“Okay,” Waverly said.

“And please! Take a cookie! I baked them specially.”

Waverly took a cookie to be polite, but she didn’t eat it. Somehow doing that would be giving in. “I’ll save it for later,” she murmured.

Amanda looked so disappointed at this that Waverly almost giggled.
See how far you can push her,
said a quiet, cold voice from inside. “You know,” Waverly ventured, “I’ve been feeling so cooped up. Maybe we could take a walk?”

“Of course! Why didn’t you say something?” Amanda stepped into some flat shoes and picked up a sweater. “Let’s do some exploring, shall we?”

Waverly wrapped herself in a light shawl, the same pale brown one that had been given to all the girls, and followed Amanda out. The two guards stationed outside the apartment began to follow them, but Amanda said, “Oh, surely we don’t need you. What do you imagine will happen to us?”

“We’re supposed to keep track of all the girls, ma’am,” the shorter of the two guards said. He had sharklike eyes, and when he looked at Waverly, she felt like prey.

“I’ll keep track of her. Honestly, they’re just children. I don’t know what the fuss is about.”

“The Pastor—”

“I’m one of the Pastor’s closest friends, Nigel. If she questions you about this, send her to me.”

The short guard was about to protest, but the taller man pulled on his arm to quiet him. “Okay, ma’am. Have a nice walk.”

“Finally some privacy!” Amanda whispered happily, taking Waverly’s hand. “Where would you like to go? There’s the arboretum. Or we could go to the observatory. I’ve heard people say that sometimes stars are actually visible. They think we’re almost through the nebula! Isn’t that exciting?”

“It is,” Waverly said, but she was deep in thought, trying to remember the layout of the ship. She had to get as close to the starboard cargo holds as possible. “Actually, I was kind of curious about the orchards.”

“Oh, yes! I think the cherries are in bloom now!” Amanda said. “We’ve managed a cross-pollination that’s produced a beautiful fruit. Want to see?”

Waverly nodded. Amanda led Waverly down the corridor, smiling at the passersby, who all glanced at Waverly curiously. Once inside the elevator, she tried to fill the silence with prattle about the cherries and how juicy they were and what a lovely color, she’d have to add some cherries to Waverly’s portrait. Finally the elevator stopped at the orchard level.

“Aren’t these just beautiful little trees?” Amanda asked, opening her arms to the scene. The sweet smell of cherry blossoms filled the air, and the humidity was soothing on Waverly’s face. Amanda was so enthralled with the blossoms that she didn’t notice when Waverly took one backward step, and another, until she was in the elevator again and the doors were closing.

Waverly jabbed the button for the cargo holds. “Come on, come on, come on,” she pleaded under her breath. She probably had about a minute before Amanda called the guards, or maybe she’d come after Waverly herself. Either way, there was no time to lose.

Finally the doors opened onto an immense room. Stacks of metal storage containers as large as houses reached all the way up to the ceiling, fifty feet above Waverly’s head. The walls faded into a dim murk on either side of her, making the bay seem endless. She could spend weeks searching and still not find them.

She heard the hum of an elevator on its way down and broke into a run. She turned the first corner she came to and pelted down the metal floor. The woman’s note had said the crew was on the starboard side, so she turned right, running as fast as she could. In the distance she heard the elevator bell and the frantic voice of Amanda calling her name. “Waverly honey, this isn’t funny!”

Waverly tried to think as she ran between the rows of the huge containers. She knew that keeping people down here would be logistically difficult. They’d need food and water, so the best place for them would be near some elevators. They hadn’t been near the elevator bank she’d come down in, so she began running crosswise, looking down each row, hoping each time to see the lights over the starboard elevator doors. She ran until Amanda’s voice faded away.

Waverly’s heart hurt, and her lungs felt ready to collapse, but she kept running. She’d closed half the distance to the far wall when she saw a glimmer of light to her right. She turned the corner and picked up speed, the red and yellow containers whizzing by her until the glimmer took on a squarish shape and Waverly could see quite clearly that it was the light over the starboard elevators.

She stopped to catch her breath and to listen. She heard the familiar murmur of the engines, but woven into it was a lighter sound. She tried to breathe more quietly, then crept forward, certain she was hearing human voices.

Yes. They sounded canned, as though they were coming from behind a wall of metal.

The captives must be in one of the storage containers. She turned down a corridor and edged toward the sound, which grew stronger now, until finally she could hear them quite clearly. She picked up her pace and the voices gained nuance. When she rounded the corner she could almost hear …

Laughter.

Five armed guards stood in a circle, about a hundred feet away.

She darted back out of sight.

They were gathered at the hatch of a livestock container with vented sides. That must be where the Empyrean crew was being kept.

She circled behind the guards as quietly as she could, until she reached the back of the livestock container. A pungent odor assaulted her, and she grimaced—the powerful smell of human waste and stale sweat.

She crept up to the container and whispered into one of the vents, “Hello?”

She could hear breathing, the shifting of bodies. Someone coughed.

“Hello!” she whispered again.

“Who is it?” someone said from inside.

“Waverly Marshall.”

She heard hushed cries of surprise and the shifting of bodies. She was afraid the guards would notice, but they were still talking and laughing loudly. “Waverly?”

Her mom. Waverly almost collapsed with relief.

Her mother’s slender fingers snaked out through the vent, reaching for her. Waverly took hold of them and held on tight. “Mom,” she whispered.

“Honey, my God. I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“I’m fine.” Waverly couldn’t hold back her tears. Her entire body pumped them out, fueled by the most powerful sadness she’d ever felt. “Mom, I’ve been so worried!”

Waverly heard indistinct whispers inside the container. Then her mother said, “Honey, what about the rest of the kids?”

“They’re fine. They’re all safe.”

Now there were whispers of relief and quiet sobs. The guards, oblivious, kept laughing.

“I can’t believe they let you come!” her mother said.

“They didn’t. I snuck down here.”

“You mean Anne Mather didn’t give you permission for this?”

“No,” Waverly said. “She told us the Empyrean was destroyed and there were no survivors.”

“But you didn’t believe her.” The way her mother said it, Waverly could tell she was proud.

“Mom, I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Sweetie, they have guns.”

“I’ll find a way.”

“No.” Her mother’s fingers tightened around her hand. “You concentrate on getting the girls off this ship. Don’t risk yourselves to save us.”

“You want us to
abandon
you?”

“To be safe, yes.”

“No!” Waverly cried, forgetting herself. Then she froze.

The guards weren’t talking anymore.

“Hey!” a man’s voice called. “Who’s there!”

“Go!” Waverly’s mother pushed away her hands.

Waverly turned on her heels and ran as fast as she could, turning corners, zigzagging between containers, turning again, her heart throbbing in her ears. She could outrun them, she was sure, but their voices grew louder behind her. How could they be so fast?

She circled around, trying to get to the starboard elevators, but a humming sound came at her from the left, and she turned just in time to see a man flying at her on a OneMan conveyor, the small vehicles that were used to stack hay bales.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!” he screamed, his face twisted into angry strands of muscle. He pointed a gun at her, but she ducked around another corner and took off at top speed.

She could hear him coming, terrified he’d shoot her but unable to stop running. When she felt a hand clamp weakly around her elbow, she clawed at it until he let go, and she turned another corner.

So he shot her.

Her leg exploded into shards of agony, and she fell down with an enraged scream. She tried to get up, but her leg wouldn’t work, and she felt cold suddenly, though she was drenched with sweat.

“Mom!” she screamed. “Mom! Mom! Mom!” over and over as men surrounded her.

“Waverly?” A woman’s thin whisper in the stale air: “Waverly, where are you?”

“Mom? Help!” Waverly screamed, overjoyed. Mom was coming to get her. She’d be safe in a moment.

She twisted her neck until she could look in the direction where Mom was coming from, and a figure appeared. A tall figure, running, limping, but coming for her. The woman got closer until Waverly could see her face.

Amanda.

“No! I need Mom!” Waverly screamed, sobbing, pounding at her own eyes, her ears, until she felt hands, so many hands, clamping to hold her down. She was stronger than each of them, even hurt like this, but there were so many of them, she couldn’t move. Reason had left her completely. She was filled with nothing but the agony of her leg and the breakdown of her spirit. It was over. She couldn’t help her mom. They had her, and there was no hope.

Hands, gentle this time, cupped her face, and she knew without opening her eyes who it was. “Waverly. What are you
doing
down here?”

A lie was what she needed, but Amanda’s face grew fuzzy, and as Waverly faded out, she could hear the woman yelling at the guards, “She’s just a child! Leave her alone! She’s just a
child
!”

WORSE FATES

The rattle of glass woke Waverly. A bright lamp hung over her, burning her eyes, and the smell of ethanol stung her nose. A man wearing a surgical mask stood next to her bed, plunging a curette into a row of test tubes. His eyes wrinkled into a smile when he saw Waverly watching him.

“It’s wonderful,” he said to her. “You responded to the therapy very well.”

“What therapy?” she asked, her tongue clumsy in her mouth.