Chapter Three: The Night Shift
“What does she mean?” I began to mumble to myself. I started pacing. “What is a book? My mom can’t be alive in the book…”
I looked at it. No, it was definitely much too finite for my mother to fit. Even all the magics I’d seen from wayfaring travelers hadn’t made me believe that someone could be brought back to life. I sighed and tried to let the noises from my mouth calm me. But it didn’t work. The voice I needed to hear was Skate’s. And he was gone.
“What is Deviant?” I looked to Foot and spoke a little louder without realizing. “What is a Great Deviant?” My voice was croaky, my eyes swollen with tears that still needed to be shed. “Do you know?”
“I…I’m sorry – I don’t know, Myth.”
It was all so confusing and mixed up. It couldn’t mean anything. The book wasn’t mine. It was no one’s. I was no Deviant, let alone a great one of whatever that was. I wished I had had more time.
“Maybe it has to do with the Bad People from the Great War?” Foot offered hopefully.
I didn’t know. Neither of us did. After a moment of standing, I realized it had quickly become dark.
“Go to Hand,” I said suddenly, turning to Foot. “Tell them there’s an Outlander – maybe more – coming. Make ready the gate early. You must hurry.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice full of trepidation that I’d never felt before.
“I have to search her body,” I explained dismissively.
And I had to burn it, but I wouldn’t tell him that.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
He was sweet and gentle, the way he said it, but, once again, I knew I didn’t have time.
“Yeah – go, Foot. And hurry up. It’s getting dark.”
I squeezed his wrist and pushed him in the direction of the town a little. He stared at me for another long moment before turning back to the town.
I leaned over and snatched the little box she’d died for before too much blood could stain its contents. I held it in my fingers, twirling it slowly, and it opened, revealing the other boxes I’d anticipated. I’d seen other boxes like this, with markings just as strange, but they were mostly burned. The paper on the inside would have been valuable if it was not, but the paper always was. So this made the boxes with paper on the inside just plain old garbage. Nothing special.
These boxes, I saw immediately, were new, and the markings on the inside were not faded but dark and deliberate. A chill passed over me as I realized that this was something that had been preserved from a different time and that it was very old.
But I decided to look at it later. I tied it to my waist with the twine that spun around it, and it stayed there fast.
I quickly grabbed the emergency bottle full of alcohol from my pack, crashed it on my now dead friend, and lit a priceless match from my wallet. I found myself staring at that match until it burned me. And then it burned her too, dropping from my hand to share in its wealth of destructive power. The fire warped her skin immediately, too thin to do anything else, and then it evaporated into the air above her head.
I felt the need to speak, so I whispered,
“You were a good mom when you needed to be.” I looked down at her. I swallowed hard with guilt and confusion. “I spoke poorly of you before…” She was almost completely gone now, and I spoke to ashes. “I’m sorry.”
And, with that, I turned my back on her ran. Running felt so good. I was fast. Faster than some boys, even. It was unusual, even for Outsiders, but I always had a way of sticking out. Often, when I cried the hardest, I found it best to run far, far away just for the adrenaline of it. Such was the case in this instance. I ran to feel better.
It didn’t help because I was not running from but instead running to. Hand was surely waiting for me.
I made my way to the silver stone chair, knowing the secret second entrance was just beneath it. The Skyway would be closed by then. I opened the hidden metal hatch, a hump in the ground, and I jumped down inside without thinking. I shut the roof behind me, feeling new urgency, and I peered down the levels. For perspective’s sake, I will describe Hand for you.
Hand was a hole, an entire building that was covered underground by fallen rubble and walls. But it was not a complete hole, not like this one. Half of the building had been ripped from the second half, and this allowed the building to have collapsed slightly on its side. Against the deep rubble of the outside, though, it allowed the levels to appear as rows of rooms that each family dwelled in, gathering at the center for trading, eating, cooking, or conversing. Above the little hole was the Skyway that allowed light to flood in on clear nights and bright days, convincing the little rats that wanted to remain caged that they would forever be safe in the ground.
I jumped down the stairs to the courtyard, where people had already started to gather. I looked from face to face, looking for someone, anyone. I saw people, lots of people, but I didn’t see faces. Tears overwhelmed me.
I heard more than saw Chess emerge from the crowd and relief filled my every bone. He ruffled his dark hair and smiled in his way, lopsided, confident and shy all at the same time. He was tall, much taller than I was, and somehow built strong enough to lift many bundles of food that were traded when the Outsiders from other Colonies swept through. His pale skin stood out in the crowd, as did his scent. He smelled of fresh dirt, not rubble or dust, and of wood, a musky smell that I recognized immediately because of long nights spent together talking in the weeks preceding the events that I am describing.
He was really good to me after Skate left. He’d always been good before, but he seemed to know that I needed someone. It was a shame that this all happened the way it did.
“Hey,” he greeted me, his voice lower than Foot’s and a little more sarcastic, a little less cocky. “Foot said you were right behind –” He stopped when he actually looked at me, when he saw my tears. I tried to look away, but he put a hand on my shoulder.
“Myth, what’s happened?” he asked seriously. He pulled me closer to him as someone bumped into me from behind.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered to me. “What’s happened?”
“I…”
I couldn’t continue for a moment. My entire body shook. I found it difficult to look at him, at how kind he was. Something about his kindness was better than Foot’s had been. So I closed my eyes, turning my head from his ardent gaze.
“Evergreen’s dead,” I finally whimpered.
“Oh my…” He took my hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry, Myth.”
“She…”
I couldn’t speak for a moment, but I knew the now was not the time for tears. I swallowed painfully to fight it and was, thankfully, composed.
“She said war was coming. What did Foot –”
“He said that you were bringing news of Evergreen, not that she was dead!”
I ran my hands through my hair, feeling panic.
“That’s not what I told him to say! The coward didn’t want to bring the news himself!”
“Who shut the gate!” a booming voice called from the thirty among us.
I turned around slowly, almost wincing as the man spoke. I had not considered, foolishly, that I would face the awesome wrath of my abuser. I twisted my gun around to my front again, almost as if to protect myself. My knuckles became white with fear as I squeezed the familiar handholds. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chess draw himself taller, stiffen, and I could see by the look on his face that he also loathed the man that hit me.
Rhyme approached, and the sea of people parted. Rhyme smiled evilly as he came. He was a slimy sort of person with mousy hair and a mouth that twisted so much when he smiled out of either joy or spite that it was disturbing to witness. His mouth would curl upwards so deeply that his face took the shape of a cup, and his beady eyes and bulging neck would become the means by which insults would be thrown at me. The rest of his body was massive, but he was not
a fat man. He was just large and angry.
And I was small. Resourceful, cunning, but small. In closed quarters, I was no match for a grown man. Fear enveloped my entire being, but I would have been damned if I would ever let it show.
“There is a reason, if you’ll let me,” I said formally. I tried hard to hide my tears. He said nothing, so I continued. “Miss Evergreen was mapping. She must have gotten hurt. I’m not sure. I…”
I trailed off, clearing my throat as best I could.
“What happened then?” Rhyme asked impatiently. His eyes remained unmovable and harsh, but I could see anxiety creep into his face. “Let’s go – we haven’t got all day.”
I cleared my throat a little, horribly aware that the eyes of every person were on me. The silence was chilling, overwhelming. They’d been waiting for this moment.
“She was…uh…She was…”
I put my head down. I didn’t want to see their faces.
“She was Undead,” I said.
A gasp resounded through the crowd and the silence increased to a murmur.
“She was,” I said, nodding. “I don’t know how she, but she was.”
“Where does that mean she travelled to? To be Undead?” Rhyme looked at me intensely. “She is immune, so surely it took a special kind of sickness for her to have developed this as she had.”
I was intimidated. My opinion had never mattered. It had always been Evergreen’s spot to tell what was and was not. She had been the master, and I the lowly, and willing, apprentice. Evergreen was the decider of matters of the outside. It took me a little more than a moment to realize that this responsibility was now mine alone. So, for the first time in my life, I voiced my thoughts.
“Stronghold, maybe,” I suggested nervously, shrugging. “To be honest, I am not sure enough to guess. I am…confused. She could have gone to Stronghold…or…she could have gone to her Gallery. Or Peak, I guess.”
I shuddered at the foolish thought of it.
“Where is Peak?” he asked, noticing this chill. “Are there lots of –?”
“It’s the nesting ground.”
I thought more, trying hard to breathe and struggling to. I could just imagine how scared she must have been, wherever she had ended up. I wondered why she had even travelled out there at all, what she could have possibly been doing, wishing I could ask.
I had noticed that she had been gone for a few days, probably more, but it was not unusual. And I spent my days avoiding her when I arrived home anyway for fear of her judgment. I made it my business not to know where she was.
Rhyme lost patience.
“How far –?”
“It’s far from here. Miles and miles…” I squeezed my gun. “It’s a massive white house. You wouldn’t know of it. It is near the Great Gate where the Bad People once lived.”
“Well, if it’s so dangerous, why would she go there?” he snapped. “She’s not stupid! To a white house? Near the Great Gate? Why would she tempt the memories of the Bad People? That’s absurd! I’ve never heard such a thing!”
“Maybe her Gallery was there – I don’t know.” The words were truer than any I had said that day. My voice finally broke. “I don’t know why…but…you asked for my opinion, and I’ve given it.” I realized he’d see this as rude, so I finished with, “Sir.”
“But you don’t know? You don’t know where her Gallery is?”
“No, it is a luxury shared by close friends only, and never to me.”
“Why?”
“I am competition, sir, it is merely tradition.”
“Why would Evergreen be so stupid?” Rhyme asked me belligerently.
His disrespect was almost more than I could bear, and the tears I’d been shedding ran away.
“She was probably out looking for your family!” I shouted.
“What happened to her then? Did she say anything? Any news?”
He looked suddenly enthusiastic, and I observed bitterly the change when he wanted something nice. I swallowed my wicked eagerness to disappoint him and kept my eyes level.
“No news of your family,” was my reply. “She said only that there were Outlanders coming…to Hand.” Rhyme said nothing, so I clarified. “Here, sir.”
“This is all the news you have for us?” he asked eventually, after a truly agonizing silence in which I suffered the stares of a thousand doubters. “Evergreen’s dead, and there’s no news of anyone useful! Just your imaginary friends?” I heard the crowd begin to laugh. “You think we’re supposed to believe this ridiculous nonsense?”
“You asked for my opinion, and I gave it! What reason would I have to make something up?”
“Because you’re an attention-loving, snobby little bitch starving for attention.” Rhyme shoved me backwards, suddenly serious. I looked away in shame. I felt Chess near me, and I couldn’t stand it. “You probably killed her on purpose, didn’t you? So you could make a grand entrance? Take her spot? It won’t work. You’re pathetic, and you’ll never be any different. Do you understand?”
I said nothing. He grabbed my chin violently, squeezing it so hard I had to bend to him to try to stop it. But I had to look at him.
“I asked if you understood.”
“I heard you!” I yelled, ripping out of his grip.
“Do you understand?”
“Evergreen’s dead,” I whispered through clenched teeth. Tears of fury blinded me. “She is dead and you’re making this into a power-game! She’s dead, you stupid idiot! She’s dead! Do you even understand that? EVERGREEN IS DEAD!”
He was calm.
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“She’s dead, you stupid moron, you idiotic piece of trash!” I wanted to lean forward and hit him, but I knew he was stronger and faster and meaner. “She is never going to come back! NEVER!” My voice shook with absolute hatred. “She’s saved your sorry ass more times than you can probably count, you imbecilic waste of space! And you’re making this about me! About you and me!”
“Answer my question,” he whispered in warning.
I heard the danger in his voice, and I knew what would happen – what he would most certainly do to me. But I didn’t dread it. I willed it to come.
“I bet she died looking for your wife and son, you maggot! But there are things bigger than her happening here, and we need to prepare for them! And you’re going to sit her and sidestep my authority – the only authority – just because you’re wetting your pants that I don’t have better news?”
All I wanted to do was throw curses at him, but I found, right then, that the personal insults would work just fine, especially if children were present.
“We’ve been warning you for months that the Undeath is growing stronger, and you have ignored us because we are Outsiders and because you are bigots who act out of fear! We have searched day and night for your stupid family, uncle, breaking our backs, losing valuable hours of our sleep – all for a thankless, dim-witted loser who can’t keep his pathetic excuse for a family on a tight enough leash!”
“SHUT UP!” he shouted, hitting me square on the face with the giant palm of his hand.
I spiraled before hitting the ground and slammed into it with more force than I had expected. Dirt and sand and debris cut painfully into my hands as my cheek began to throb. Tears of blind frustration won, making me yell after him in the most pitiful way.
“Why does it matter when the gate is closed?” I called after his disappearing form. “There are Outlanders coming! We must ready ourselves!”
He turned back a little.
“Fine,” he snarled over his shoulder at me. “Then, you will wait for these…Outlanders.” He laughed at me. He knew how tired I was, how impossible this task was for me to handle alone.
“You will not sleep,” he ordered. “You will not eat. You sill simply wait.”
He paused again as he turned back, shaking his head and saying,
“You’re just like your mother.”
r /> He made it sound like something I should have been ashamed of. And, for that, I had never hated him more.