Glory (The Dust Chronicles Book 3) by Maureen McGowan

Author:Maureen McGowan [McGowan, Maureen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyscape
Published: 2014-06-09T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

BURN TAKES MY hand as we walk down the path toward the building. A woman with long, dark hair and brown eyes steps outside the door and watches us intently. There’s something oddly familiar about her. Perhaps she came from Haven, too.

In the building, it’s almost as bright as it was outside. The high windows let in more of the late-afternoon light than seems possible given their size and height. I stop and look up in awe. The ceiling is covered in shiny metal or painted with some kind of reflective coating. I suspect they’ve done something with mirrors or panels to direct and maximize the light.

The center of the space is open, the air is fresh, and there are carts and tables set up where people are offering food. I smell cooking meat. People are all around us. Most of them have thick, leathery skin and bear scars that make them look like Shredders. But no one is acting like a Shredder.

“This is the market,” Houston says. “And up there”—he points to the three levels above, all with railings along the edges—“are the residences.”

At the camp in the hot zone, the Shredders were screaming, torturing one another. I’m so amazed by this place that I almost forget to scan the faces for Dad, Drake, and Jayma. We pass an open door and I stop short. Children. Playing. And they don’t look like Shredders at all.

Houston steps up beside me. “That’s our school.”

“Were the kids all born here?”

“Most of them. A few we rescued.”

I look toward Burn, but his gaze is focused down as if he doesn’t want to acknowledge what he’s seeing.

“I’ll head up to my office,” Houston says, “and make an announcement to ask if anyone’s seen your friends.” Houston touches my back.

“Don’t touch her.” Burn says.

“Relax,” Houston says. “You can let go of your friend’s rope if you like. She doesn’t look like a runner.”

I take Burn’s hand and pull him a few feet away. “Is this really your first time past the fence?”

He nods.

“It’s not what I expected. You?”

He shrugs.

I lean in close. “I get that you’re wary. So am I. But I think we should give Houston the benefit of the doubt—at least until he gives us a reason not to. So far, he’s been helpful.”

“Morag,” Houston says to the woman who followed us, “will you take over the tour while I make the announcement?”

“Yes.” She’s been trailing us like a fog, but now her shoulders straighten and she lifts her chin. “Come.” She gestures to us. “It’ll be dark soon.”

“Thanks.” I look at Burn, but his face is a mask. I turn back to Morag. Then back to Burn. She’s staring at him, and it might be my imagination, but the more I see them together, the more they look alike.

We follow Morag through the rest of the enormous building, and at the other end, large doors stand open, creating a space that’s nearly a story high and wide. Outside, various smaller buildings are scattered around a massive fenced-in space.

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