Glow

  “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 watc
hing 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.

  “Let me get you a nurse,” he said, patting her arm. He walked out, carrying the tray.

  Then she remembered. Her mom. She’d talked to her mom, held her hand. Her mom was alive, and she had to get to her.

  She threw off the covers and tried to sit up, but her head swam and she had to cling to the railings on the bed. She tried to move, but her leg was gripped by a pain that seared through her like a chemical burn.

  I’ve been shot, she realized, not quite believing it.

  She wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

  Waverly looked around. She wasn’t in the infirmary. The lights were too bright, and there was no porthole looking out to the exterior. She must be in the interior of the ship, in an upper level. To her right was a row of white cabinets. To her left was a counter lined with beakers. A centrifuge like the one she’d used in biology class sat on one end.

  She was in a lab.

  There were footsteps, and another person in a surgical mask appeared over her. The hazel eyes were familiar, and when the woman said hello, Waverly recognized her voice. It was Magda, the nurse who’d cared for her when she first got to the New Horizon.

  “Why am I in a lab?” Waverly asked.

  “Thirsty?” Magda inserted a straw between her lips. Waverly sipped down ice-cold water. She felt a dull ache in her throat, as though something had been forced down her windpipe. And a tube snaked into bruised veins on the back of her hand, making it sore.

  “Why am I in a lab?” Waverly demanded.

  Magda sat down heavily. “You’re probably wondering what happened to your stomach.”

  Waverly looked down and saw that her belly was impossibly swollen into a hard mound that hurt when she prodded it.

  Waverly’s throat closed in panic and she began to cough. Magda helped her sit up and rubbed her back until she could catch her breath. “What are you doing to me?”

  “Calm down. You’re perfectly safe.”

  “I’m safe? I’ve been shot!”

  “Well, honey, you weren’t where you were supposed to be.”

  “Why is my stomach swollen?” she asked. “Did you make me pregnant?”

  “No, no, no. You’re not pregnant, Waverly. We’ve filled your abdominal wall with carbon dioxide so we can see in there for your surgery, that’s all.”

  “What surgery?” Waverly shouted. Hot tears coursed into the hair at her temples.

  “I’ll let the Pastor explain.”

  A shadow moved over the doorway, and Anne Mather sat down next to her. She too wore a surgical mask, and her gray eyes smiled down at Waverly. “How’s our patient?” she asked with a fondness Waverly hated.

  “What have you done to me?”

  “We performed a very simple procedure on you, Waverly. You’re in no danger whatsoever.”

  “What procedure?” She was almost shouting again. Easy, she told herself. Use your head.

  “I’ll tell you that if you tell me why you were in the cargo hold.”

  She stared at Waverly and waited.

  A lie. Waverly needed a lie.

  “I was looking for guns,” she finally said. “They were kept in the holds on the Empyrean, and I thought you might be storing them there.”

  “Because you wanted to escape?” Mather coaxed gently.

  Waverly nodded.

  The woman studied her. Waverly closed her eyes, pretending to be overcome by the medications they were no doubt pumping into her.

  “Well, Waverly, I’m disappointed, but I’m not mad.”

  Waverly played the naughty child who wanted only forgiveness. “You’re not?”

  “You must be confused. The last few weeks have been a terrible strain on you and the girls. I’m not a bit surprised by this…” Mather waved a gloved hand around, searching for the words. “Acting out.”

  This trivial term enraged Waverly, but she forced a smile. “Sorry.”

  “That’s all right, dear. All is forgiven.”

  Mather placed a soft hand on Waverly’s arm. It made her skin crawl, but she managed a smile. “What are you doing to me? If I’m not pregnant, am I sick?” she asked, careful to keep the anger out of her voice.

  “No, darling. You’re wonderfully healthy.” Mather blinked a few times as though gathering her thoughts. “You see, the timing was right. We had to sedate you to fix your leg, which should heal up quickly, though you may have a limp, I’m sorry to say.”

  You’re not sorry, Waverly thought.

  “And while we had you under,” Mather continued, “we performed an ultrasound and saw that your eggs were maturing beautifully. So we harvested them while we could. And they’re so precious, Waverly. We couldn’t bear to waste them.”

  “Eggs?” Waverly asked, her voice quivering.

  Mather leaned over her, the smile gone from her eyes. “Everyone on this ship has a duty to ensure the survival of the crew. It’s your duty, too, Waverly.”

  “What is? What are you doing to me?” Waverly yelled, unable to hide her outrage any longer. She wanted to lunge at Mather, strangle her. “Tell me!” she screamed.

  “I will when you stop shouting.”

  Waverly struggled to catch her breath. I will kill this woman one day, she vowed.

  “If all goes well, in nine months you’ll have given children to more than a dozen childless couples. Think of the gift you’re giving! They’ve wanted children for so many years, and now, finally, you’re making that possible!”

  Waverly stared at her in shock.

  “Right now your eggs are being fertilized, and soon we’ll implant them in the women who are ready for motherhood. Amanda is one of them. She was supposed to get your consent. She told me she’d begun discussing it with you, remember?”

  Waverly shook her head. So that’s what Amanda had been getting at that day.

  “You won’t have to carry any of them, Waverly. You’re giving the joy of children to women who will raise these babies in loving, spiritual homes. You’ll be spared the pain of childbirth, at least until you fall in love. There are lots of single men on this vessel who would be thrilled to have you. They’re a little long in the tooth compared to you, but that’s no real obstacle.”

  “I’m already engaged. I’m going to marry Kieran Alden.” She felt Kieran beside her, a ghost of him that she must have carried here.

  Mather paused as though filing away this bit of information. Then she said, “Kieran. I think Felicity mentioned him. He was to be Captain, isn’t that right?”

  Waverly kept her mouth closed. She’d already said too much.

  “Sweetheart…” The woman leaned forward, took Waverly’s hand, and stroked it. “Darling, the Empyrean is gone. I’m so sorry, but you have a new life now. I know it’s hard, but I believe that you’ll be able to embrace it, given time.”

  Waverly reached for Mather’s throat, but straps tied her to the bed. She could only attack with words, and she screamed them: “You’re insane!”

  “No, Waverly. I’m a pragmatist. People don’t know that about me. They see me as a mystic. But the two aren’t mutually exclusive.” She leaned over Waverly, peered into her eyes. “We need children to ensure our survival, and you’ll give us that chance. I truly believe that in time you’ll come to accept your role in history. There are worse fates than being the matriarch of a generation of human beings. The first humans to set foot on New Earth, Waverly, think of it! They’ll be your children! You’re very privileged, and I feel sure that you’ll come to understand when you see the faces of our first generation.” Mather smiled girlishly. “They’ll be so beautiful.”

  “You’ll regret this,” Waverly told Mather, her voice trembling. “I’m going to make you suffer.”

  Mather nodded to Magda, who had been standing at the ready with a needle and injected a clear substance into Waverl
y’s IV. Mather leaned down to Waverly as the medication made a cloud around her head. With a sad smile that seemed to fade into darkness, she said, “I’m fairly certain that you will.”

  DESPERATION

  When Waverly awoke, the swelling in her abdomen had been replaced by a terrible ache. She groaned and tried to move into a more comfortable position, but the restraints on her had been tightened. A shadow moved against the wall, and she jumped when a light flickered on. “You’re awake.”

  The light was so bright, Waverly couldn’t keep her eyes open. She felt a straw being held to her lips, and she tested the liquid with her tongue. It was cool water, and she drank it, letting it wash away the sand that seemed to coat the back of her throat. Her eyes adjusted, and she was able to squint at her visitor.

  It was Amanda, her face drawn, worry lines carved around her eyes. “Can you ever forgive me?” she asked.

  Waverly turned her head away. She didn’t want to talk.

  Amanda leaned her forehead on the bed railing by Waverly’s elbow. Tears ran down the creases in her face. “You can’t know the misery we suffered, Waverly. We were a ship full of desperate, grief-ravaged people.”

  “You want me to feel sorry for you?” Waverly spat.

  “When I think of what happened in the cargo hold…” Amanda shook her head, her jaw tight. “I couldn’t believe they shot you! I want you to know I gave that son of a bitch a black eye.”

  “So you want gratitude?”

  “You must hate me,” the woman said, her voice fragile.

  “Of course I do.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “I don’t care who you blame.”

  Amanda dropped her chin, rubbed her belly, and fell silent for a while. Finally she said, “I don’t expect you to care, but I can feel that it worked. I know I’m pregnant.”

  Waverly didn’t want to hear this. To know that her children could be raised by these sick people … she couldn’t bear to think of it.