The Culling ttk-1

by Steven dos Santos

  My fingers slip away from Digory’s. “Your spouse is one of your Incentives.” My voice sounds foreign, as if it doesn’t belong to me.

  He reaches for me, but I pull away. “Lucian, you don’t understand-”

  I swipe a hand across my eyes. I’m boiling over with pain and I want to scald him, too. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Especially after what I did to you.”

  Confusion clouds the stars from his eyes. “What you did to me?”

  “You honestly don’t believe it’s a coincidence that we both got recruited, do you?”

  He takes a step toward me and I back away. “What are you talking about?”

  “Cassius had you recruited because he heard about what you were involved in back at the Parish-from my own lips.”

  And though it’s technically true, my not mentioning the part where Cassius planted the transmitting device on me paints a whole different picture.

  My words are like a brand that sears his face. Instantly, I regret what I’ve said, but the damage is done. His stance goes rigid. The muscles in his jaw and cheeks stiffen. “I trusted you.”

  “I have to find my brother.” I turn and fling open the doors.

  The reception room is empty. Everyone must be inside the hall by now. I stride past the two soldiers standing sentry by the doorway, trying to keep my expression neutral so they can’t see I’m dying inside. I pick up the pace when I hear the footsteps behind me. I need to get as far away from Digory as possible. I need to find Cole. That’s the only thing that matters. Everything else is a distraction, and I deserve to feel gutted for giving in to weakness and allowing myself to dream my life could be any different than it has been until now.

  It never will be.

  The auditorium’s packed with enlisted personnel and officers. My trek to the first row, which has been cordoned off for the graduating Recruits, is a stinging, wet blur. I squeeze past Cypress, Ophelia, and Gideon. Fortunately, when Digory arrives, he’s forced to sit in the only remaining seat at the opposite end.

  Standing off to the side of the stage, flanked by a squad of Imps, are the Incentives-Gideon’s parents, Ophelia’s mother and sister, Cypress’s twins, and a handsome, carmel-skinned guy about Digory’s age. That must be him. But where’s his second Incentive?

  I scan the crowd, looking for my own Incentives, blinking the moisture away.

  My heart sags. I don’t see them anywhere.

  There’s a buzz of static on the intercom system that settles into a flatline hum, mimicking the feel of my heart. The lights dim, along with my remaining hope, as Trumpets blare and Sergeant Slade takes the stage.

  “Welcome,” she announces, as soon as the fanfare has died out. “On this occasion we gather to honor five exemplary cadets. They have proven they possess the necessary attributes to partake in the Trials, for the opportunity to enter the ranks of our military’s elite.”

  The applause echoes through the amphitheater like rumbling thunder.

  When it fades, Slade rambles on about the Establishment’s principles and values, but her words barely register as I obsess about the only thing that matters.

  Where is my family?

  There’s more applause, and then Cypress has to nudge me as, one by one, we’re called to the stage to receive our graduation pin and shake hands with Slade.

  “Congratulations, Spark.” Slade forces the words through clenched teeth. She jams the badge against the left breast pocket of my uniform, almost piercing my skin.

  Then I’m moving in a daze to the end of the stage away from the Incentives and taking a seat, where I’m soon joined by the others.

  Slade fades into the background as the beam of a spotlight appears center stage, illuminating a familiar silhouette that seeps deep into my eyes like a terminal sickness.

  Cassius.

  He’s blinding, in a coat as stark white as a violent blizzard. His reddish-brown hair is slicked back, reminding me of the color of dead leaves covered in sleet.

  When he raises his hands, every sound in the ballroom dies. “Distinguished members of our armed forces and Trials Committee, I’m honored to be a part of this Recruitment Graduation.”

  More applause.

  Cassius folds his arms behind his back. “I stand before you as the Parish’s most recently appointed Prefect, a fellow patriot, not only to join in honoring these five courageous military volunteers, but to apprise you of an unprecedented development in the history of the Trials.”

  A murmur zips through the crowd like an electrical current, sizzling and popping along the way. My chest tightens. Unprecedented development? In my gut I know it’s tied to Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe. I grip the sides of my chair with sweaty palms.

  “Most of the Recruits are gathered here with two of their Incentives, representing those they care most about and who will aid in motivating them through this arduous but necessary duty to our beloved government.” He sweeps a hand in the direction of the Incentives. One by one, Cypress’s, Gideon’s, Ophelia’s, and Digory’s family members are illuminated in the beams of spotlights.

  Cassius points to them. “As you can see, two of our Recruits have not been joined by both of their Incentives. The first is Digory Tycho … ” He gestures and a split-screen image appears behind him: Digory’s stoic face on one side, his husband’s anxious one on the other. The camera pans to the empty space on the stage where his missing Incentive should be and freeze-frames.

  “The other Recruit who is not yet joined by his Incentives,” Cassius continues, “is Lucian Spark.” The screen divides again, this time with a shot of the empty space on the stage where Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe should be standing.

  A blinding spotlight blasts my eyes. I shield my face with an arm as my image fills the screen behind Cassius.

  “Where are they?” My question, amplified by the directional mics, echoes through the hall.

  Cassius stares at me, his murky green eyes like tufts of moss overgrowing the stone of his face, etched with lines of contempt and something else.

  Hurt?

  How dare he feel anything but shame and guilt after all that he’s done to me and my family? My blood steams in my veins. I want to lunge at him, wrap my hands around his throat-

  He clicks his tongue several times. “Unfortunately, Recruit Spark, the Trials are all about exploring the strengths and resourcefulness of our prospects from the moment of inception. Everything that has transpired since Recruitment Day has been a part of this process, and all of your performances have been evaluated and scored accordingly.”

  My vision is a dark tunnel with only Cassius visible on the other end. “Scored ? I don’t care how many points we got for barely escaping with our lives from those things-those Fleshers-that killed your scouts and have you all in a tizzy. All I care about is my family. Why aren’t they here?”

  Slade marches toward me with Styles and Renquist in tow, but Cassius waves them off.

  He sighs. “All the tests you have endured since you began your training at Infiernos were designed to assess your skills and weed out the weak amongst you. Surprisingly, you all passed. But unfortunately, one of you just barely made it through, and, as with every part of the Trials, consequences must be addressed.”

  My mouth goes dry. It feels as if my heart’s trying to punch through my rib cage. “Where are they …?”

  “According to the code,” Cassius continues, “the penalty for being the lowest-scoring Recruit to complete Basic Pre-Trial Prep is the forfeiture of Incentive visitation privileges. And you, Recruit Spark, regrettably graduated in last place.”

  At first, it’s like he’s speaking some other language, gibberish … then the weight of his words settles in, crashing through like an anchor into the depths of my brain. The prospect of seeing Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe is the glue that’s held me together. Without that …

  I spring to my feet. “You can’t do that. Please, Cassius. I’ll do anything you ask … anything.” I stagger from my seat and drop to my knees
at his feet. “Just let me see them … Cole … even if it’s only for a few minutes … I–I beg you … ”

  He shakes his head. “No need to supplicate, Lucian. The Establishment isn’t totally heartless. We do realize that from time to time, small exceptions can be made.” His voice is so convincing. I can almost believe him. Almost. He extends a hand and pulls me to my feet.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  The leaves of his eyes glisten with dew. He gestures to someone offstage. “I’m afraid you can only see one of them.”

  His words are a punch to the gut. “Don’t make me choose. Not now … not yet … ”

  He purses his lips. “You won’t have to.”

  Styles and Renquist march onto the dais. Renquist is holding a shiny black vase. They flank Cassius and click their boots against the hard marble in attention. Renquist holds the vase out to me.

  A growing sense of dread overcomes me. I try to peer around them. “Where are Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe?”

  “Take it,” Cassius orders.

  I take the container from the Imp. It’s colder than my trembling fingers. “What is this, Cassius?”

  A long sigh hisses from his lips. “It’s Mrs. Bledsoe-or rather, what’s left of her. The poor thing had Reaper’s, as you know. Awful business. She wasn’t strong enough to endure all the excitement, and unfortunately succumbed to her illness last night.”

  I feel like I’m disconnected from my body, hovering overhead, observing the events rather than experiencing them. None of this is real. I’m just having a nightmare. That’s all. I clutch the urn to my body. The porcelain’s like ice against my chest. I can feel the rapid-fire thumps vibrating through it, as if trying to compensate for the lifelessness within.

  It’s real.

  All I can do is stand there, rocking the urn back and forth, blinded by the flood pouring down my cheeks.

  “My brother … ” I try to run past the Imps, but they grab me. I twist in their clutches. “I want to see my brother!” I won’t believe he’s still alive until I see him myself.

  Cassius shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Recruit. No more exceptions for you.”

  All that pent-up fury bubbles over and explodes. I rip free of the Imps and lunge at him. We crash to the floor. The urn topples from my grasp and smashes with a loud crash, engulfing Cassius and me in a cloud of Mrs. Bledsoe. I straddle him. He looks up, his eyes daring me to strike. I raise my fists to pummel him-

  The air is torn from me as something slams into my lower back, sending jolts of pain through my body. I fall over, curling into a ball. Cassius slides out from under me. A flash of a boot and another kick sends fire into my kidneys. My eyes grow dim …

  “Don’t hurt him! Let him go!” Digory’s voice echoes through the hall.

  “Bring Tycho over here.” Cassius’s voice penetrates the painful fog clouding my brain.

  Style’s rough hands grab me on both sides. He drags me to my feet. I manage to open my eyes. Everything’s a blur, but Cassius’s face comes into focus. He smirks at me and leans in to whisper in my ear. “You should thank me. When the time came, you’d have chosen to end the Bledsoe witch’s life yourself before your precious little brother’s. I just expedited the process and took the decision out of your hands. Now you can go into the Trials guilt-free.”

  “Murderer … ” I hiss at him.

  Renquist and another Imp shove Digory toward me, his arms pinned behind his back. His eyes are choppy blue rivers. “Lucian, are you hurt?”

  There’s not a part of me that doesn’t hurt, both inside and out, including the parts of me that he’s touched. I drop my gaze to the broken urn and the scattered ashes.

  Cassius clears his throat and raises his hand to silence the crowd’s stirring. “I apologize to all of you who had to witness that. But it will help you to understand the dynamic that sets these Trials apart from any others we’ve ever held.” He holds a hand out, indicating Digory. “Here we have one Recruit, who aside from his husband, has no other discernible family or close friends our research was able to discover. Of course, as in rare cases such as this, Tycho could be assigned an orphan as one of his other Recruits. But … ” He points to me now. “Here we have another Recruit, who through no fault of his own has lost one of his Incentives before the Trials have even begun.” He shakes his head. “What to do?” A smile flashes across his face. “Observe.”

  3-D holograms appear throughout the chamber, the largest of which towers right behind Cassius on the dais, all projecting the identical images.

  Digory and me.

  It’s footage of us on the Observation Tower, sitting on the railing, gazing at the stars.

  I wonder what it would be like, Lucian, to love someone so totally, so … you know, so powerfully, that even the stars can’t contain themselves from proclaiming that love for everyone to see. Digory’s voice blares through the audio system.

  The image switches to the raft during our first Sim exercise, me slung over Digory’s body, both of us half-naked, me whispering into his ear.

  Listen to me, Digory. You’re going to be okay. I promise.

  Other images flash by in quick succession-Digory defying Slade and standing up for me when we first arrived at Infiernos … him feeding me breakfast at the mess hall during our first day of training …

  The images fade into our moment earlier tonight. Digory and me on the terrace, his head nuzzled against my neck.

  Let’s just have this one moment, just you and me, no one else … one moment where we don’t talk about any of that … where none of it exists … where we can pretend tomorrow is a lifetime away …

  Footage of us dancing, swirling in each other’s arms …

  All the holograms fade. The lights come up.

  The crowd is silent. And then the murmuring begins.

  “May I have your attention, please.” Cassius calls out above the clamor. The muttering fades. “As you can see, Digory Tycho has demonstrated strong emotional ties toward Lucian Spark. All of you witnessed yourselves his concern for Spark just a moment ago, casting protocol aside to try and protect him despite the fact that he’s already married to another. And Lucian Spark, likewise, has strong feelings for Digory Tycho, stronger than any other living person other than his own brother, now that his poor unfortunate surrogate mother is no longer with us.”

  The audience begins buzzing again. Cassius allows it to continue for a moment before raising a finger. A hush falls through the hall. “So, for the first time ever, two of the Recruits shall also serve as each other’s Incentives. Both their lives now hinge on each other’s progress during the Trials. Should one falter, he will have to choose between his competitor’s life and the life of his regular Incentive. Note that if he chooses his competitor, this decision will also have repercussions on his competitor’s regular Incentive. Without anyone to fight for him, that Incentive’s life will be forfeit as well.” Cassius nods. “As of tomorrow morning, you will be witnesses to one of the most interesting Trials ever, where the question of self-indulgent love versus love of country will take on an even more significant meaning. Let the Trials begin!”

  The applause swells into a thunderstorm.

  “No! You can’t do this!” I shout over the roar.

  “Lucian!” Digory calls. The Imps are already hauling him off stage.

  Cassius signals the Imposers and they drag me past him. “I’ll kill you for this,” I hiss at him.

  Soldiers point at me, some laughing, others waving their fists, as I’m towed by, down the aisle and out of the hall.

  I guess I gave them their little scene after all.

  PART 3

  The Trials

  Twenty-Two

  I’ve spent the entire sleepless night locked in solitary, thanks to my outburst at the Graduation Ceremony. Flight risk or suicide watch? Not that the outcome of either would be any different.

  It’s the first time at Infiernos that I’ve craved the sagging mattress of my bunk, back at the
barracks. I don’t know how many hours I’ve done nothing but stare into the suffocating darkness, wondering when the night will end-and dreading the moment when it will.

  My cell door wooshes open.

  Captain Valerian, the female Imp I haven’t seen much of since she sicced the Canid on the kid in the alley, stands there, weapon aimed at me.

  “It’s time, Recruit.” She tosses a bundle at my feet.

  Black combat fatigues and boots.

  This is it. The moment that everything’s led to, ever since my ill-fated reunion with Cassius on Recruitment Day. The point at which all of our fates converge, for better or worse-Digory’s, Cypress’s, Gideon’s, Ophelia’s, mine, and those of everyone we love. For months I’ve forged new friendships, only to have to tear those bonds apart now for Cole’s sake.

  I tear off my formal wear, still smudged with Mrs. Bledsoe’s ashes, and slip into my new skin. Without waiting for a verbal prompt or the butt of Valerian’s weapon, I take a deep breath and stride past her. Styles and Renquist are waiting out in the barren steel hallway.

  “This way,” Renquist grunts.

  I march down the corridor after them, toward a bright opening on the far end. An elevator, by the looks of it. Gritting my teeth, I step in, past two more Imps flanking the doors.

  The others are already waiting inside. Digory tries to make eye contact, but I drop my gaze. I can’t. Not now. Instead I concentrate on the others. But none of them seem to notice me. While they all look a little more kempt in their identical combat fatigues than I’m sure I do, the one thing they all share in common is the look of dread splattered across their faces.

  The elevator doors slam shut.

  It’s difficult to swallow as the car plunges. I almost reach out and grab Digory’s arm to steady myself, but catch myself at the last second, opting for one of the handrails against the wall.

  The floor vibrates with the speed of our descent.

  Welcome Recruits!

  Sergeant Slade’s voice startles me, seeming to come from every direction.