Gleanings (Arc of a Scythe)

by Neal Shusterman

Kila gave her a wink. “Depends on who you ask.” So now she was officially a Hellion. Truth be told, Kila was proud. She’d been angling for the distinction for months. There were four levels of unsavory status. Common Unsavory was just the baseline. Then came Hellion, then Pandæmon, and finally Apocalyte. Kila was still far from that, but it was certainly something to aim for. “What could have possibly possessed you to release a bag of untagged black mambas in the Department of Unsavory Affairs?” Agent Gooley asked. Kila remained nonchalant. “I had number eighty-six, and they were only on number twelve. I figured the snakes would help motivate the agents to work a little faster.” “Six people were rendered deadish, and we’re still finding snakes in the vents.” “Only six?” said Kila. “Damn. I bet a friend it would be eight.”