The Toll (Arc of a Scythe) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,114

that I was an underscythe to Goddard. After what I’ve seen, I’ve come to feel his hold on the world must be weakened by any means necessary. All the scythes on that list are of the new order and fully embrace Goddard and his philosophies. You began your rampage because you believed the scythedom needed a dramatic overhaul. A culling, if you will. Although I am loath to admit it, I believe you are right.”

Did Constantine actually just say that? Hell would be freezing over if the Thunderhead weren’t controlling its weather.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Rowan told Coleman and Travis. “But like I said, I don’t take requests.”

“Told you so,” Travis said to Coleman. “Plan B?”

Coleman nodded. Rowan shuddered to think what plan B was, but no one was pulling out their knives to glean him.

“In all the time since you were revived, did you ever once ask about what happened to your family?” Scythe Coleman said.

Rowan looked away. He had been afraid to ask – not just out of the fear of knowing, but also because he didn’t want to bring his family into this, to be used on anyone’s chessboard.

“If they’re still alive, I’m sure they’ve disowned me,” Rowan said. “Maybe changed their names, or even had themselves supplanted. If I were related to me, that’s what I would do.”

“Very insightful,” said Scythe Coleman. “Actually, two of your sisters did change their names, and one of your brothers did get supplanted – but the rest of the Damisch family remained. Your mother, grandparents, and four other siblings.”

“Are you … threatening to hurt them?”

Travis guffawed at that. “What do you think? We’re like Goddard? We’d never hurt innocent people. ’Cept of course for the ones we glean.”

“I’ll tell you what we did do,” Scythe Coleman said. “After you sank Endura, your family came to our region out of fear that they would be gleaned by MidMerica’s new High Blade – with whom they knew you had bad blood. We took them in, and since then they have been quietly under our protection, where they will remain, regardless of what you choose to do.” Then she turned to Travis. “Bring them in.”

Travis left the room.

And Rowan began to panic.

Was his family here? Is that what was happening? Were they going to force him to face them? No! How could he, after all that he had done – after all they believed he had done. As much as he wanted to see them – to see for himself that they were all right – he couldn’t bear the thought of standing before his family.

“No! No, don’t!” Rowan insisted.

“If we can’t convince you, maybe they can,” said Constantine.

But the horror of making his family a part of this? Of hearing his own mother tell him to go out there and kill scythes? That was worse than being gleaned! It was worse than being burned alive!

“I’ll do it!” Rowan blurted. “I’ll do whatever you want, just … just please, please leave my family out of this…”

Coleman closed the door before Travis could return.

“I knew you’d see reason,” she said with a warm smile. “Now let’s make this world a better place.”

“Have you done the research? Have you dug into the backbrain? I know it’s frustrating without the Thunderhead’s help – but after three years, I’m sure a lot of you have figured out how to do it. There’s a benefit to being unsavory, isn’t there? It forces you to struggle through the frustration and do things the hard way. So much more satisfying.

“What did you find when you looked at the lunar disaster? Anything that didn’t look quite right to you? Did you find that the environmental system had triple redundancy? Not only a backup system but two backups to the backup. Did you learn that prior to that day, the Thunderhead had calculated the chances of an atmospheric catastrophe at .000093%? That’s less than one chance in a million. Was the Thunderhead wrong?

“After the disaster, the Grandslayers of that time enacted a week of mourning. No one would be gleaned for a week, since so many had died on the moon. I’m sure most of the Grandslayers believed it was a tragic accident and were genuine in their remorse.

“But maybe, just maybe, one was not.

“If you’re looking for evidence that would tie any specific scythe to that disaster, you won’t find it. But did you look into what happened in the days and weeks after the tragedy? Did it trouble