The Offering (The Pledge 3)

The boy straightened his shoulders and then addressed those gathered in front of him, some of them having grown restless, shifting and scratching and whispering among themselves. His voice sounded more grown-up now than it had when he’d been caught in Eden’s arms. “We have guests,” he announced, and I could feel all those too-bright, unblemished eyes that blinked at the three of us from beneath the mud-laden faces. I wondered who they thought we were. And then he continued, and suddenly his relationship to Eden became strikingly clear as he turned to face her, his hands landing on his skinny hips. “Some of you might remember my sister . . . Eden.”

Eden had assured Brooklynn and me that we’d be perfectly safe for the night. Right before she’d deposited us in a bunker no bigger than a shed and left us alone with a group of raggedlooking kids who watched us as if they’d sooner strangle us in our sleep than share one of their beds with us.

Fortunately, they were more accommodating than they appeared, and they willingly parted with two of the bunks that were scattered around the planked floor, giving us each a place to sleep.

I wasn’t sure if we were taking bunks of kids who’d been displaced to accommodate us, or if the bunks had already been empty, but when I asked, all the girl told us was, “You sleep here.” It was the same answer she’d given when I’d tried rewording the question, and when I’d finally given up and thanked her, and again when Brook had asked her for an extra blanket. Just “You sleep here” in her strange, tired lisp that made her S sound like “th”.

I couldn’t help thinking the girl didn’t know any other phrases.

“S’not her fault, you know.” The voice came from several bunks down, after Brook and I had finally settled in.

I made sure that my cloak and blankets were sufficiently covering me, diffusing any light that might try to escape. I couldn’t take the chance that news of the glowing queen had traveled all the way to this forsaken work camp.

Brook had insisted on pushing our bunks together, despite the fact that none of the others were. She said we needed to sleep back to back, to stay on guard, even though Eden had assured us we could trust these people, and even though, as far as I could tell, they were nothing more than children. We hadn’t seen anyone who looked older than Eden’s brother, whose name we’d learned was Caspar.

“What’s not her fault?” Brook asked before I had the chance. “Selena. Not her fault she can’t tell you nothin’ else. She’s a Repeater. It’s all she can do, what with all the beatings and the messin’ around the docs did on her head.” The girl speaking was younger than Caspar. I’d seen her in the forest when they’d all still been covered in mud, before Caspar had sent them down to the river in the dark to rinse off before turning in for the night. It was her hair that gave her away, even caked with mud, the brilliant fiery strands had been impossible to hide.

The way Caspar had given the order, it was clear he was the one in charge around here. “Where are the adults?” I asked. “Shouldn’t there be someone here to make sure you’re all okay?”

Moonlight poured in through the dirt-caked windows, and I could see the girl’s outline as she sat cross-legged on her bunk, the way Angelina so often sat. Her hair was still damp and hung in drooping waves around her face. She stiffened at my words, and I felt as if I’d somehow insulted their leader without meaning to do so. “Caspar’s doin’ a fine job. Better’n the rest. The doc was arrested and taken away,” she explained indignantly. “And so was the chief—that’s what he made us call him, the warden who used to be in charge. Never knew his real name, just ‘the chief.’ He liked hurtin’ us.

“At first when those people came around askin’ us questions, we were all too scared to answer, too afraida the chief. But then Caspar said we had to. Said if we didn’t tell ’em what they wanted to know, the chief’d keep hurtin’ kids forever. So we did.” She shifted, so she was sitting sideways on her bunk. She kicked her legs, swinging them back and forth and back and forth as she spoke. “The day they took the chief away was the best day ever.” She glanced up, and her eyes sparkled in the pale moonlight. “Best day ever,” she repeated, a dreamy, faraway smile on her lips.

I couldn’t imagine what the chief must have done to these kids, and my skin flushed as I remembered the other girl and the way she’d simply repeated the same words, “You sleep here,” over and over again.

Gritting my teeth, I fought to contain my reaction. I couldn’t risk my skin blazing to life if I didn’t keep my emotions under control. I clutched the fabric closer to my face so I could peer through a narrow opening.

“There’s no way they’d just allow Caspar to run the place. How did that end up happening?” Brook shot back.

The girl’s feet stopped swaying, and she looked around, nodding smugly, and I realized that the others must have been listening too. A roomful of children all lying in their cots and listening to our conversation like it was a bedtime story. “We chased ’em off.”

Brook sat up, more than a little interested now. “What do you mean, ‘chased them off’? Who? How many of them?”

The girl’s face screwed up as she concentrated. “Three,” she answered. “They sent three more to run the place, after the chief.”

“Four!” piped up another voice from somewhere down the row—a little boy’s voice.