Compliance (2 page)

“Do you trust me?” I ask her.

“I… I think so.” Her nose wrinkles. “My parents said I could go with you, but they didn’t mention anyone else.”

“I trust Clayton—completely. So that means you can trust him too.”

“O-okay.”

Clayton steps slowly toward us. “Can you walk on your own?” he asks, and Arabella nods.

“Terrific. Why don’t you sit for a moment and rest up while I have a word with Glory.”

She backs over to the wall and slides down to sit, pulling
her knees into her chest and wrapping her thin arms over her shins.

Clayton steps in the other direction, turns to me and whispers, “You shouldn’t have come down.”

“Now that I
am
down, do you have my new list?” I need more names, more Deviants to rescue. I’ve been half-dreading and half-hoping to see my friend Gage’s kids on one of Clay’s lists. Gage was expunged the same day I escaped Haven, and if either of his kids are Deviants, I hope to save them.

Clay shakes his head. “Rolph has ordered us to slow down.”

My shoulders snap back like I’ve been slapped. “Why? Doesn’t he think I’ve been dong a good job?” When Rolph, our FA commander, asked me to go back inside Haven to save other Deviants, it didn’t take long to convince me.

“You’re taking too many chances,” Clay says.

“I’m careful.” I lift my chin. “And I’d take any risk if it meant saving more Deviants.”

Clay’s hand lands on my shoulder. “We’re slowing down on extractions for now.”

“But why?”

“Rolph found out you’re training to be a Comp.” He shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

My cheeks burn. “It was Rolph who asked me to work undercover. What part of
that
did he not think was dangerous?”

“He figured you’d get a low-profile work placement, not something as exposed as Compliance Officer Training. I
should have told him where you were placed sooner.” Clay rubs his nose.

“But COT is the very best work placement for me to have.” I tighten the string holding my ponytail. “I’ve got way more access, way more freedom. I might not be able to hack into the System like you can, but in my COT classes I get access to the HR database. Plus, I’m learning combat skills and getting stronger.”

Clay frowns. “All
that
is what makes it too dangerous.”

“All
that
is what makes me better at my job.” My throat tightens. I need to convince him. If I can’t save fellow Deviants, why am I in here? Why am I separated from my family?

And how will I make up for everything I’ve done?

Clay frowns. “It’s not just you who’s exposed; it’s all of us.” He widens his stance. “It’s decided. Rolph issued his orders. You’re off duty until further notice.”

I grab his arm. “Fight for me. Tell him he’s wrong.”

Clay shakes his head. “The Comps are upping the security for the President’s Birthday celebrations. They’ve installed new cameras and it’ll take time to figure out which ones actually work. I think Rolph’s right. Your involvement in extractions is too much of a risk.”

“What?” Sweat tingles my skin, despite the cool air. “How many Deviants have I found and brought to you?”

He cracks his knuckles. “Must be close to thirty.”

“Thirty-seven counting Arabella.”

“It’s too many, Glory. Too fast.”

“Is this because I didn’t find Adele Parry?” She’s the only name Clay gave me that I couldn’t find. And one of the only
adults. Deviant abilities typically appear around puberty so most Deviants I’ve rescued have been young teens. Like my brother. “Do you have anything else on Parry? She wasn’t at the work placement you gave me, or the address, but I’ll find her. I will.”

He shakes his head. “Rolph assigned her to someone else.”

“Who?” My stomach twists. “I’m the only FA soldier with a valid Haven ID. I have the most freedom to move around. I should be the one to find her, to find everyone.”

“Stay out of it, Glory. She’s no longer your responsibility.”

“But I can find her.” Saving Deviants is why I’m here. It’s all I have, all I am.

“Glory,” he puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not just me and Rolph who are worried about you. Your dad is too.”

My breath catches. “Is Dad okay? Did he send a message? How is Drake?” My younger brother turned fourteen since I last saw him.

“They’re fine. Drake’s grown. And he’s one of the fastest runners in the Settlement now. Other than Gage—of course.” Gage’s Deviance is speed—he moves like lightning.

“That’s amazing.” My brother, a paraplegic for three years, regained use of his legs once he was outside Haven and exposed to the dust that’s lethal to most humans.

Clay rubs his eyebrow. “Drake begged me to bring you home.”

A lump forms in my throat. I want nothing more than to see my family, but if I leave Haven again, there will be no
coming back and there are too many others to save. “I can’t. But tell him I wish that I could.”

A light flashes above us in the alley. Voices drift down.

Comps.

“W
E’VE GOT TO
move,” Clay says.

I gesture for Arabella to get up. “Good luck.”

She flies forward and dives at me, hugging me tighter than I thought possible with those spindly arms. “Thank you.”

I help her jump up so Clay can carry her piggyback. Then he shakes his head and looks up the ladder. “Rat dung,” he curses.

He needs to close the manhole cover. I’m too small. Clay lets Arabella’s legs go and she slides down his back. “Come with us, Glory. Leave Haven. You’ve done your part. Time to retire.”

“No.” I push Arabella back onto him. “You guys run. I’ll go up and draw the Comps away from this alley. I’ll figure out a way to get the cover back on. I’ll create a diversion. Don’t worry.”

I hug Arabella. “Good-bye.”

“Will I see you again?” Her eyes glow.

“Some day.” I do hope that some day I’ll leave Haven and reunite with my family, but it’s hard to imagine that I’ll live long enough.

“Come with us.” Clay’s voice is hard, stern. Another light flashes above. It won’t be long until the Comps spot the open manhole.

I leap onto the ladder and climb. When I near its top, the ladder vibrates in my hands and I look down to see Clay. “Come,” he mouths.

I shake my head and peek out. A spotlight traces down the alley, missing the manhole by inches. I push out onto my belly and look back down, planning to tell Clay to run, but he’s already gone. The glow of Arabella’s eyes has vanished.

I push the heavy metal cover. It doesn’t budge. The spotlight traces along the wall opposite me, several feet up.

It passes. Stops. Traces back.

A Comp’s communicator buzzes, but I can’t make out the words. I flip onto my back, brace on the wall, and push with my feet, straining, grunting. Sweat rises on my face, but the metal slides and clangs into place.

A light shines from the end of the alley. “Stop! Compliance Officer!” a Comp yells.

I run.

The farther I can get from the manhole the less chance they’ll realize that one opens. I reach the corner and turn left, checking over my shoulder.

A single Comp’s chasing me and his armor crunches
and thumps with each step. He’s already passed the manhole and shoots his Shocker gun. I leap around the corner and its electric-charged tag arcs in the air, striking nothing.

Ahead, a rope dangles down from the edge of a roof. I leap, grab it, and climb, arm-over-arm, even as it swings from the momentum of my jump. Reaching a window ledge, I brace myself, then haul the rope up behind me, hoping to pull it above the Comp’s notice before he passes.

I’m too late. A tag from his Shocker flies, but I dodge out of its way. I loop the coiled rope around an exposed beam that juts out near the window. Not having a rope might slow the Comp down.

He uses his communicator. Soon I’ll be surrounded, and my being enrolled in COT won’t help me get out of this one. Even as a Comp trainee, I’m not supposed to be outside the barracks at this time of night.

Clay’s right about one thing: I have been taking risks, but I’ve snuck out dozens of times, and this is the first time I’ve been chased.

I fly up the rope, shoulders and back flexing and straining, working in efficient tandem. An almost-grin forms on my tense face. I wouldn’t have willingly chosen to be assigned to COT, but as a side benefit, I’ve become stronger.

Able to climb ropes since I can remember, I’m now so much faster. And I no longer rely solely on observation or guesswork to know the Comps’ protocols and procedures, making it easier than ever to roam Haven at night undetected.

I know exactly how many Comps are assigned to this
sector tonight. Three. There are fewer posted in the factory district than in residential areas—even the Pents where I grew up. More Comps will come if the one chasing me issues a Code Yellow, but I should have time to get away before they have me surrounded—if I find a good route.

When I reach the top of the rope, I scan the roof. No Comps yet. I roll onto the hard surface and race to a ladder leading up a building to the side, then climb. Twenty feet above, a window’s open about six feet to the right of the ladder. Too far to reach.

At the window’s height, I study the crumbling brick surface of the building. Not ideal, but my only chance. Moving to the edge of the ladder, I stretch but miss the first visible handhold and swing back to the ladder. On my second attempt my fingers catch hold.

Pushing off the ladder, my weight transfers to my fingertips. My foot catches on the edge of a worn brick and I bring the second one to join the first. Digging the tips of my fingers into the small groove, I free my other hand to find another crevice.

I slip. The toe of my sneaker scrambles over bricks, sending tiny pieces of mortar and dried clay to the roof below. But my foot finds purchase and I slide over to find another handhold, fingers scraped and sore.

Finally, I stretch out my leg and it lands on the sill of the open window. I hook it to brace myself as I find another place for my fingers. When I’m close enough, I slip inside the building.

The room is dark. And big. I blink, urging my eyes to
adjust to the dim light. I don’t dare crank up the small torch I have stashed in my jacket pocket. A strong chemical smell burns my nostrils, and the shapes of what must be machines form in the dim light. Luckily, this factory doesn’t have a shift of workers tonight. All is quiet and the Comps haven’t found me. Yet.

I creep across the room and discover a gaping hole with a steel cable hanging at its center. After cranking my torch, I shine the light into the shaft, and the cable reaches up as far as I can see. Below, there’s a dead end about forty feet down at what must be street level.

It’s an elevator—we learned about them during our building structure class—and it must be used to move materials between the floors of this factory. Before The Dust they were also used in residential and office buildings for people too lazy to climb stairs or use ropes and ladders, but most of the elevator shafts from BTD were converted to living space. I haven’t encountered an elevator during practical training sessions yet, but I’m sure to before graduation.

There’s no use climbing down—roofs are safer for travel than surface streets for me—and I need to get my bearings and plan my route back to the barracks. Climbing up, I’m sure to find another opening from the shaft, if not at the roof, maybe at a level with a bridge to another building.

After turning off my torch, I stash it inside my jacket, then jump and grab onto the cable. My brick-scraped fingers aren’t happy, but I wrap my feet around the cable to help, then climb up, hand over hand. Darkness engulfs me, and
I ascend what feels like ten stories without finding another opening. They’re all sealed off.

About twenty feet from what looks like the top of the shaft I strike pay dirt. An opening. Through the faint light I see a staircase going up at the other side of the room. Roof access.

Comp boots stomp above me. They’re on this roof.

I lower myself until I’m not visible through the elevator shaft opening and wait.

According to protocols, the Comps will search for me for no more than twenty minutes. There are too many other places to patrol for them to waste time on a girl out after curfew.

My hands and feet are tired and sore, my legs shake, but I focus, drawing deep breaths until the pain becomes part of me. I imagine I’m somewhere safe, somewhere Outside. I imagine I’m floating in a lake, cool water around me, hot sun above, my hair fanned around my smiling face.

Haven employees have no idea such places still exist, but I’ve been there. With Burn. Thinking of him makes me feel braver, stronger. Makes me remember what I’m capable of and why I need to survive. I need to save other Deviants like he saved Drake.

If Clay refuses to give me more names, I’ll find more Deviants myself.

But no matter how many I save, it will never wash away my biggest regret—my shame, my guilt for what I did to my mother.

I’m still not asleep fifteen minutes before the alarm’s due to ring to signal that we have six minutes to report for our morning run. I don’t need a run. Sweat’s pouring off me, and my heart rate refuses to slow. In the bunk below, my roommate Stacy, the only other girl in COT, is snoring. Although it keeps me awake many nights, at least my heavy-sleeping roommate doesn’t rouse when I frequently sneak out.