Compliance (3 page)

My body’s sore and tight, and I stretch, hoping to clear lactic acid and coax my muscles to relax. We’ve got a live chase simulation today and I need a moment of sleep. Behind closed eyelids, I imagine Arabella’s expression the first time she sees the real sun, a lake, a tree. I imagine a smile bursting onto her face the first time she sees the Settlement, where Deviants live alongside Normals, safe from the Shredders.

Then that happy scene is erased by the faces of other Deviants—their faces distorted in pain as they’re tortured by Shredders. What would have happened if they’d been exed before I found them.

Somehow I’ll convince Rolph to put me back on active duty. Tonight, I’ll report to my briefing with Clay as if last night didn’t happen. I need to find Adele Parry. That will convince them I’m indispensable.

I drift, skirting sleep, until finally, my muscles relax. I sink into the mattress, feeling weightless, boneless. I’m falling…

The alarm rings.

The lights snap on illuminating the dark brown water
stain above my bed. Stacy grunts from the lower bunk and rolls over, shaking our bed’s frame.

I stretch one last time before twisting to get down from the bed.

At least last night I did something good. I saved a young girl and gave her a fighting chance at a safe life Outside. How many more will it take to make up for my past?

I’ll be paying for the rest of my life.

D
ENSE AIR SPEWS
from rooftop ventilation units, and the plumes of steam spread and slither across the sky. With my back pressed against the metal side of a vent, heat penetrates my skin and scorches my lungs. The air’s too thick up here for deep breaths, and if I move from this corner, I’ll risk capture.

In today’s training exercise, I’m playing the part of a Deviant. Irony abounds.

The door from the building’s stairwell slams open and Comp trainees pour out. Their armored uniforms reflect the low light as heavy boots crunch over gravel and shake the roof’s surface. Spotlights probe the night, bouncing off the sky about twenty feet above me.

I tense, ready to spring, weighing my options, but the Comps have the advantage of night vision goggles.
I don’t stand a chance of staying hidden. I need to run.

“Over there,” one shouts and races toward me. “The Deviant. I see her.”

Squeezing into the small space between two vents, I wince at the hot rush of pain and the smell of baked skin. A red dot from a Comp’s laser sight strikes my arm, but I pull further into the gap. The Shocker gun’s tag strikes metal, leaving a dent before it binds. One of the Comps slams into the vent I’m behind, and the vibrations push through me as I press out the other side of the gap to the open rooftop.

I’ve got nowhere to hide now, but they need to get around the far side of the large metal unit before they can shoot. I have a few seconds.

Adrenaline flowing, I race to the roof’s edge and leap.

My leg stretches through the air, reaching for a place to land, but the next building’s too far. I misjudged the distance.

Sixteen’s too young to die. I’m not ready.

The sole of one shoe scrapes down the roof’s edge but I drop, throwing my arms out, grabbing for something, anything. My fingers catch on the lip of the roof, and by some miracle, my left foot lands on something hard, solid—maybe the top trim of a window.

I don’t care what it is; it’s enough to support me as I gain a better grip.

Pushing off with my foot and down with my arms, I fight to get my weight onto the roof, shifting, twisting. Almost.

A boot lands between my arms—a Comp’s boot—and I lose my hold. Sliding back, I claw the rough surface, hoping
my foot will rediscover that ledge, but heavy-gloved hands grab me under the arms.

I’m caught.

I won’t give up. As soon as the Comp pulls me far enough that I won’t slip back, I twist from his grip and roll to my back.

Grabbing his boots for leverage, I jackknife at the waist, bringing my feet back to slam into his gut.

He staggers, more startled than hurt, and pain from the impact of thin shoes against armor shoots from my soles to my spine. Still on my back, I spin to face him. He reaches toward me, but I brace one foot on his chest and kick with the other, wishing there was a vulnerable spot in the armor. At least my braced leg keeps him from reaching me, although he could use his gun.

“Stop it, Glory,” the Comp says.

“Cal?”

My legs drop and I scramble to my feet. With their dark, visored helmets, it’s impossible to tell one Comp from another. Even one who’s my official, HR-department-sanctioned dating partner.

“Why aren’t you with the rest?” I gesture to the opposite roof where our fellow COT recruits are disappearing back into the building, having clearly decided not to follow my lead and jump. They’ll likely cross at a lower floor on one of the many bridges between the two buildings. “What made you come over here?” I ask Cal.

He lifts his visor and when I see his handsome face, my heart skips. “I know how you think.” He grins and his
blue eyes brighten the dingy world of Haven’s rooftops. “I figured you wouldn’t head up to that roof unless you had an escape route. It was just a matter of checking the relative heights of the surrounding buildings to guess your plan. Although”—he steps to the roof’s edge and looks down—“cutting it a bit close, don’t you think?”

“I’ve never been up here before. I thought it was closer.”

He spins back. “You jumped that blind?” His voice cracks. “You could’ve been killed.” One of our classmates died the last time we did a live chase simulation. Two others flamed out—quit the program.

“Why take such a huge risk? It’s just an exercise.”

That danger was nothing. I face worse every day. I bite the side of my lip to hide a proud smile. “Aren’t you going to tag me?”

“Shooting you is a technicality at this point.” He grins. “I’ve got you.”

He hasn’t got me. Not until he fires that training-tag-loaded Shocker that hangs at his side in a loose grip. I could still take him down.

One kick to his gun’s base, a fast, lunging grab, and I’d have it pointing at his chest, the trigger pulled, his armor tagged with shame. He’d have a dozen negative points against him, and I’d replace him as the top ranked member of our COT class. But given all my secrets, it doesn’t seem smart to draw too much attention. It’s enough to know I
could
be first.

“You’d better shoot.” I laugh. “Haven’t you heard? I’m a Deviant. Dangerous. A suspected terrorist.” I’m grateful Cal
doesn’t know what I’m saying is true. Some of it anyway.

“Are you telling me you’re really a Deviant?” Cal raises his free hand and shakes it. “I’m so scared.”

He smiles softly as his fingers reach for my face.

I pull back.

Hurt flashes in his eyes and his expression drops. Regret creeps up my spine. I still like Cal—a lot. I’ve always liked him, but I’m no longer certain I love him. Not like that. Not after what happened with Burn. Besides, I don’t have time to think about boys.

I raise my hands over my head. “Hurry up. Shoot.”

“Glory, I…” He puts a gloved hand on my shoulder and lowers his head toward mine. “You’ve been through a lot. I get that. But how long will it take for things to get back to the way they were before you were kidnapped? People will question our license.”

“I’m sorry.”

The intense concern in his eyes washes over me, making me feel happy and guilty at once. But he doesn’t know a tenth of what I went through. I wish I could tell him that I wasn’t really kidnapped, and that Burn helped me get my brother to safety, but if anyone inside Haven learns the truth… I can’t think about that. My emotions build and my eyes tingle, signaling the build-up of my Deviance.

I drop my gaze before I risk any harm.

A noise startles Cal and he looks over his shoulder. The rest of the recruits have arrived.

“Shoot me,” I mouth and raise my arms to the side. “Larsson
will be furious if you don’t.” Since I’m involved, he’ll be furious no matter what we do.

Cal scrambles backward five or six feet to lessen the ferocity of the impact, then aims at my thigh and pulls the trigger. The tag strikes. Gritting my teeth against the sharp pain, I drop to my knees, hands laced behind my head in surrender. Hundreds of tiny sharp barbs at the tag’s back poke through my thin pants and grab hold. That’s going to leave a mark.

The rest of our training group falls into a semi-circular formation around me, guns raised. Laser sights dot my chest like pox.

“Cut it out, guys.” I drop my hands to my sides. “You got me. I lost.”

“Oh, the little girl is scared,” Thor taunts. “If you can’t cut it, flame out.”

Most of the group lowers their guns, but a Shocker fires and a training tag slams into my chest, knocking me back, taking my breath. Panic rises. I can’t breathe from the pain of the impact. Who shot me?

A large shape plants itself next to my body, kicking a few stones at my face.

Larsson, our Recruiting Captain, crouches. I close my eyes. It figures he was the one to shoot.

Breathe. Breathe.

He grabs my chin roughly. “Look at me.”

I open my eyes but keep them cast at his chin.

“I said, ‘Look at me!’”

I stare into his narrowed, ice-green eyes. My ears roar
and the backs of my eyes tingle. My Deviance is coming on and I can’t control it. My chest constricts. This is bad. Really bad.

If I hurt the Captain—cause even a pinch of pain to one of his internal organs—this exercise will become real. Quickly. He’ll know I’m a Deviant and I’ll be exed. Fear shudders through me along with memories of the Shredders who rule outside the dome.

“What’s the matter, Princess?” Larsson mocks me and presses the heel of his hand onto my chest over the bruise where his tag struck. My cheeks burn with rage.

To quash my emotions, I rub the place on my finger where I wore my mother’s ring, before I threw it away out of guilt and self-pity.

“Is this too much for you?” Larsson asks. “If you want to be a Comp, you’ve got to be tough.”

“I am tough.”

“Not tough enough.” He yanks my back off the roof. “You’re so scared you can’t even look at me.”

My Deviance continues to build, but I turn my gaze his way. Rubbing my finger isn’t working, so I count in my head, run through the times tables, recite items from the P&P manual. I fill my head with mindless details to shield my emotions and control their fatal powers.

“I told Belando we shouldn’t accept you,” Larsson says. “Are you ready to flame out yet?”

“No, sir.” I can’t quit COT. My insides tremble and I fight to keep my emotions at bay. I’m more effective at saving Deviants from inside COT, no matter what Rolph and Clay
think. If I were working fourteen-hour shifts in a factory, like my friend Jayma, I wouldn’t have found a quarter of the kids I’ve saved. Plus, if I’m out of the program, I’ll no longer be useful to Mr. Belando.

I will not quit.

Once I graduate, I’m supposed to work undercover for Mr. Belando, the Junior VP of Compliance. He thinks the time I spent with my kidnapper gave me insight about Deviants who are conspiring against Management, and he wants me to infiltrate their organization and betray them. I don’t trust the reasons Mr. Belando gave for choosing me as his spy, and there is no chance I’ll do what he wants, but he didn’t give me a choice.

If I do anything to displease him, he claims he can produce evidence that my kidnapper turned me, and that I support Deviant Rights. I don’t know if he knows the truth—that I wasn’t kidnapped, that I’ve been Outside, that I
am
a Deviant—but I’m certain he can deliver on his threat. If I quit COT, he’ll have me exed.

“You’re not cut out for this.” Larsson shoves me down. “Even if you survive training, you won’t last a week as a Comp.”

My breath is knocked out of me and I can’t breathe. Good thing because I want to scream at him to stop taking his frustration out on me. Captain Larsson resents my being in COT and that his ultimate boss, Mr. Belando, forced him to accept me.

Cal steps toward us. “Just because she’s small doesn’t mean she won’t make a good Comp.”

“What was that?” Larsson jumps up, grabs Cal’s utility belt, and pushes him to the edge of the roof. “Did you fasten your buckle correctly, Recruit?” Larsson spits as he yells. “If you fall, the little princess won’t have anyone to help her cheat her way through training.”

“Yeah,” Thor says, nudging one of our classmates. “She cheats. How else could a girl be so high in the class standings?”

Cal’s jaw hardens and his eyes narrow. “Glory doesn’t cheat.”

I fight for breath as Larsson tugs on Cal’s belt. My dating partner waves an arm to catch his balance.

“Does this recruit think he knows better than his captain?” Larsson says.

“No, sir.” Cal’s voice is deep and strong, but a thin trail of sweat traces from his forehead past his left eye.

“I’ll bet this recruit is a Deviant.” Larsson turns back toward the group. “Maybe he’s not afraid to fall because he can fly. I’ll bet he’s got a tail that can grab onto the edge of the roof. Or a spear that will come out of his guts to impale me. He’ll make sure he’s not the only one to die if I drop him.”

Cal’s jaw shifts. His foot slips and I reach toward him, trying to cry out, but I still can’t make a sound.

“Is that it, Recruit?” Larsson’s voice is loud and ugly. “Are you a Deviant? One of the freaks trying to destroy Haven, take our home?”

“No, sir.”

“What’s that?”

“No, sir. Not a Deviant, sir.”

“And what do we do to Deviants, Recruit?”

“Hunt them, expunge them, kill them, sir.”

Larsson’s free hand gestures toward me. “And who was this recruit in today’s exercise?”

“A Deviant, sir.”

“You think I should go easy on Deviants?”

“No sir.”

“You a Deviant sympathizer?”

“No, sir.”

Larsson yanks Cal forward. He stumbles at first, then straightens.

“What did we learn here today?” Larsson asks the group.

“Glory cheats,” Thor says, and a few others laugh.