Naomi Grim: Complete Novel (Parts 1-4) (The Silver Scythe Chronicles)
Read Naomi Grim: Complete Novel (Parts 1-4) (The Silver Scythe Chronicles) Online
Authors: Tiffany Nicole Smith
Naomi Grim
Book One of the
Silver Scythe Chronicles
(Part 4)
Naomi Grim
Book One of the
Silver Scythe Chronicles
(Part 4)
Other books by
Tiffany Nicole Smith:
Books 1-4 of the
Fairylicious Series
The Thing About
Scorpions (Scorpions 1)
Naomi Grim (The
Silver Scythe Chronicles)
Book 1
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either
products of the author's imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2013 by Tiffany Nicole Smith All rights
reserved. No parts of this book may be copied or reproduced in any matter
whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles or reviews. Printed in the United States of
America.
Cover
Design by Damonza
Twisted
Spice Publications
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Me:
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Summary:
The assignment:
Collect lifestones from humans after they die.
Rebellious, sixteen-year-old Naomi craves a normal life, but unfortunately,
she's a Grim by birth. That's right, she sees dead people and hoards their
living essence in a stone. Not a fun occupation.
In order to be good at her job, she must live among human teenagers for weeks
at a time. But Naomi soon becomes attached to the kids she's been assigned to
watch over. And knowing that these teens are gonna die under less than ideal
circumstances, she has the opportunity to prevent their deaths from occurring.
Only one big problem--interfering with death is the worst crime a Grim can
commit. If she intervenes, she'll put herself and her family in danger.
Naomi must make the hardest choice of her career,
go against the sacred covenant or watch her new friends walk blindly to their
deaths.
Only one thing is for certain--Naomi has a grim knack for finding
trouble and she's about to break all the rules...
Naomi Grim
Book One of the
Silver Scythe Chronicles
(Part 4)
Tiffany Nicole
Smith
Naomi Grim
Part 4
Chapters 34-43
Part 4
The Rebellion
Table
of Contents:
Guards walked through the halls yelling, "Lights out!" I
turned my light off and curled up on the cot. It hurt my body, and there wasn't
even a pillow to rest my head on nor a blanket to cover myself with. I thought
about my comfortable bed at home and how I would never sleep there again. I
prepared myself for a restless night.
I forced myself to close my eyes. I heard the murmur of snoring
coming from the outside cells. I envied their ability to fall asleep. I wasn't
sure what time it was. If I had to guess, I would say it was about two or three
o'clock in the morning when I heard a knock on the door of my cell. I rose from
my cot and went to the door. No one was there. I figured it had just been a
guard passing by so I turned back toward my cot.
"Naomi," called a gravelly voice.
I turned. I knew that voice. "Dunstan? You got your cloak
back." I remembered the last time I'd seen it; it had been in the hands of
Doyle. I wondered how he had gotten it to Dunstan without Dunningham noticing.
"Are you okay?"
"For now. They're going to kill me in three days."
"Don't worry, my dear. Everything is going according to plan.
Your execution will be the perfect distraction."
"What?
What does that mean?" I wished Dunstan wasn't invisible right then. I
needed to see his face.
"Naomi, you
cost us a lot. It's only right that you pay us back. The day of your execution,
every Grim in Nowhere will be in one place at the same time. Their guard will
be down. It'll be the perfect time for us to attack."
I
heard Dunstan's feet drag across the floor and assumed he was leaving.
"Wait!" I called. "Is that going to be before or after my
execution?"
Dunstan
breathed deeply. "I can't be sure, dear."
I
would have appreciated a definitive answer to my question.
A
noise came from the end of the hallway. "I have to go," Dunstan said
hurriedly.
The
sound of a guard's heavy footsteps made their way closer and closer to my cell.
A bright light shone in my face. I shielded my eyes with my hands.
"Back
in bed!" the guard ordered. I couldn't see him because of the light, but I
backed away and returned to my cot. My growling stomach wouldn't allow me to
sleep. I lay awake hoping for breakfast time to arrive.
* * *
After
what seemed like an eternity later, deep voices bellowed throughout the
hallway. "Up! Wake up!" The yelling was accompanied by a loud
clanking sound. I rose and looked out of the small window of my cell door, my
body sore from the hard cot. The guards ran their nightsticks against the bars
of the cells.
I
sat on my cot, wondering what would happen next. It had been a sleepless night
for me. I would fall asleep for a few minutes and then wake up, hoping this was
all just a nightmare that would be over when the sun came up. But sunrise came
and I was still locked in a filthy prison cell. After a moment, my cell door
popped open. "Let's go. Hop in line," said a surly-looking guard.
I
followed his instructions. When I exited the cell, a long single-file line of
men were headed downstairs. I was last in line. A guard stood directly behind
me.
I
wished for shoes as my feet slid across the gritty concrete. The bottoms of my
feet were already blackened with dirt, and I wanted to wash them. Feeling
filthy, I wondered when I would be able to shower again. By the offensive odors
being released from the men, I concluded that showering wasn't a daily thing.
We
went down two flights of stairs to get to the cafeteria. There I joined the
massive line waiting to be served breakfast. I spotted the women prisoners—less
than ten—already eating at a table on the far side of the cafeteria. I guessed
my offense was too great for me to be included with them.
I
stood in line for what seemed like forever, only to receive a bowl filled with
gray gruel and a hard piece of bread. Being famished, I was thankful for even
that. By the time I had received my food, most of the tables were full. I
squeezed myself on the end of one bench. The men gave me strange looks.
My
eyes stayed on one man in particular who had tattoos all over his face. He
caught me looking and nodded at me. I nodded back and then looked away. I
noticed no one spoke throughout the room as guards stood around tapping
nightsticks in their hands.
I
dug in to my breakfast. The mush had no flavor whatsoever. It at least filled me
so my belly stopped making noises. I gnawed on the bread, but it was almost
impossible to tear. I eventually gave up and left it on my tray. A man with
long stringy black hair sitting across from me pointed at the chewed-on bread.
I nodded, and he took it from my tray with a grateful look. I wondered when the
next meal would come and if the food would be any better.
A
bell rang. It reminded me of the school bells at Kennedy High. At once,
everyone stood and took their trays to the large containers that stood against
the wall. I grabbed my tray and followed the men from my table. There were
separate containers for trays, bowls, cups, and silverware. Under the watchful
eyes of several guards, I put my dishes in the proper bins.
"Block
C, you have dish duty," a guard announced over the bullhorn. I heard a few
groans. Guards stood around as the prisoners dispersed into different
locations. I stood in their midst, getting pushed and jostled. I had no idea
where to go.
"Naomi,
you go back to your cell," said a voice from behind me.
I
turned to see Ravi, the guard who had escorted me to my cell the night before.
"Where's everyone else going?"
"To
do their jobs. But you don't get to do that."
Gattica's
main purpose was free labor. The prisoners were trained to make almost
everything we used in Nowhere—clothing, jewelry, furniture, you name it.
"I
have to just sit in my cell for the rest of the day?"
Ravi
put his hand on my shoulder, pushing me along. "That's solitary
confinement. You're lucky you got out to eat."
Ravi
escorted me to my cell, and I stood in the doorway. I would go crazy if I had
to spend the day trapped in that room. "Ravi, please. I only have three
days to live. Give me a break."
He
shook his head. "Can't. Orders are orders."
"Come
on. What's going to happen? It's not like I'm going anywhere."
Ravi
thought for a moment. "I'll let you in a work room for a half hour and
that's it."
At least that was something. "Thanks, so much."
Ravi
took me to a room filled wall to wall with long tables. Men hammered an
assortment of metal objects and fit things together. "This is the room
where they make automobile parts. Or I could take you where the women are
making jewelry."
"This
is fine," I said. I figured if I could get any information about the
upcoming rebellion, it would be from the men.
"There's
an empty seat over there." Ravi pointed at a table closest to the east
wall.
I
took a seat in the hard, rusted chair.
A
man in a guard's uniform came over. "We're making carburetors today. You
want to fit—" The rest of what he said sounded like a foreign language.
I
watched the man sitting next to me. His filthy hands did their job
effortlessly. I'd just copy what he was doing.
"Got
it?" the man asked.
I
nodded and dug into the box in the middle of the table for some parts. All
around me, men worked like robots focused on their tasks. No one said a word.
"Pssst,"
someone hissed.
I
looked down the table. It took me a moment to place the familiar face.
"Starkin?"
I asked a bit too loudly.
A
guard against the wall looked in my direction and then continued to look
straight ahead. Starkin was the boy Bram had fought when we went to Litropolis.
He was here because of my brother.
Starkin
leaned over. "What the hell did you do to get put in here?" It was
hard to hear him over the hammering and the clanking of metal parts.
"Long
story. I told your mom you were here," I whispered back.
A
flash of sadness crossed his face. "Thanks so much. How'd she take
it?"
"She
took it well," I lied. No point in making him feel bad.
"Shhhhh,"
said the man in front of me. He was an older-looking man with no hair. He
didn't look at me. His eyes stayed focused on his task.
I
shut up and fiddled with the parts in front of me. I tried to mimic the men
sitting around me, but the parts just wouldn't fit. When my thirty minutes were
up, I had accomplished nothing. Ravi came back and took me to my cell.
I
plopped down on my rock-hard cot. "Later on, there's exercise time. You
might be able to get out then," Ravi said.
"Thanks,
Ravi. I appreciate it."
I
lay on my uncomfortable cot and took a nap. There was absolutely nothing else
to do but count the cracks in the wall. Having a book to read would have made
the situation more bearable.
I
was awakened by a guard shaking me. It wasn't Ravi, but someone else. "It's
your block's turn to use the workout room."
Groggily,
I pulled myself up from the cot and followed the guard. He led me to a large
room with gray cement walls filled with men lifting weights and using all sorts
of exercise equipment. The room smelled awful, like nothing I'd ever smelled
before. Perspiration mixed with something else. Several guards were planted
around the room.
Searching
the room for a treadmill or something easy, I noticed Starkin lifting weights
with DeCarlo spotting him. I weaved my way through the crowd of grunting, sweaty
men.
When
I approached, DeCarlo took the weights from Starkin and rested them on the bar.
"All right. My turn."
The
boys switched places. Starkin raised his eyebrows at me. "You better get
busy. They like to keep us strong for manual labor."
I
thought the workout room was either a really good or a really stupid idea. On
one hand, they were strengthening the prisoners so they'd be better workers, on
the other hand, they were making the ones who were about to rebel against them
stronger.
"I'm
being executed, so it doesn't matter."
Both
boys looked at me. DeCarlo whistled.
Starkin
looked around and then edged closer to me. "Don't worry, there's a
rebellion being planned. We're all getting out of here soon."
I
scanned the room. Just about everyone in Gattica was either a Forager or a
Litropolite. "But I'm being executed in less than three days."
Starkin's
eyes widened. "Oh. What did you do?"
"I
interfered with death," I answered simply. No need for details.
DeCarlo
shook his head. "That was stupid. There's those of us who actually want to
be sent on assignments and then you actually get them and mess it up."
"Shut
up, man," Starkin said to his friend, but I knew DeCarlo had a point.
"I'm sorry."
I
appreciated his sympathy. "I made my bed so I have to lie in it. I feel sorrier
for my family than I do for myself."
Starkin
lifted the weight off the bar so DeCarlo could take it. "Don't give up
yet," Starkin said, winking. "Trust me, anything can happen."