Bracing myself against the wall, I hold out my hands to form a cup. “C’mon. Let’s move.”
Ophelia rushes over, slides her foot in between my hands, and hauls herself onto my shoulders. Gideon’s next, teetering slightly before settling on Ophelia’s shoulders. Then comes Cypress, who, despite her blood-soaked bandage, darts up me and Ophelia to perch on Gideon’s shoulders as easily as a mouse scurrying up a pipe.
I grip Ophelia’s ankles, trying to hold her steady against the tremors racking my body. It’s already too hazy to see more than a foot ahead of me. Heat bakes my skin. Every inch of me’s dripping. My mouth fills with the taste of acrid smoke already clogging my straining lungs.
Digory pauses in front of me and touches my cheek. Unable to pull away, I can only stare at him, quenching my thirst in the blue waters of his eyes.
“See you on the other side,” he whispers. Then he steps into my hand and pushes up.
My knees buckle from the added weight, but I force my muscles to lock down despite the agony coursing through me.
The fire’s devouring everything in its path, eating away the field we came through, getting closer and closer until the searing heat ripples my vision as if I’m looking through a burning waterfall.
“Hurry,” Ophelia groans.
Every bone in my body creaks from trying to hold steady against the constant wobbling of Ophelia’s feet on my shoulders. I hear Digory reach the top and grip the end of the rope. Our teetering ladder lurches-
But Digory scrambles up and pulls himself on top of the wall. Free of his weight, our human chain holds steady.
“Here! ” He tosses the ladder down.
Cypress grabs it and scampers up toward Digory, followed closely by Gideon and Ophelia. One after the other, Digory hauls them onto the ledge. I snake up the wooden planks until I’m standing at the top alongside them.
Below us, the fire’s reached the base of the wall, burning through the lower part of the ladder.
Above us, the Squawkers swoop in for the kill.
“Hurry!” I shout. “We have to get down the other side now!”
I grab the remainder of the rope and start to reel it back up the parapet. Then it’s burning through the flesh of my fingers and palms. I glance behind me at Digory and Gideon, their arms pistoning like the gears of a steam engine as they pull along with me until the ladder’s frayed ends reach the top. Cypress slams a foot down on the ladder, trapping it in place before it can skitter off the edge and over the other side.
“It’s not long enough anymore. It won’t reach the bottom.” The incoming craft nearly drown her words in a surge of roaring engines.
I peer down over the other side of the wall. A strong feeling of vertigo nearly overtakes me. My body teeters from the wave of dizziness and I have to grip Digory’s arm to steady myself. The distance seems much greater from this vantage point than it did from the ground looking up. Far below, a moat of dark sludge oozes against the wall’s base. At least it’s not a solid surface, though I shudder to think what could be lurking underneath.
Digory yanks the ladder free from under Cypress’s foot. “We only have to drop about ten feet or so. That muck down there should be able to break our fall.”
Explosions rock the terrain nearby. The wounded ground shudders as if in pain. There’s no more time.
“Out of my way.” Ophelia grabs the ladder and swings off the other side without looking back.
Digory flinches as the ropes go taut and tear into his skin, streaking it with glistening darkness. He stumbles and slides halfway over the edge before I grab his leg and drag him back to safety.
Below, Ophelia’s half swimming, half crawling through the mire toward solid ground, with a clear, unobstructed path to the finish line.
Adrenaline gushes through my muscles. I grab the slackness of the ladder. “Cypress! Gideon! Let’s go!”
First Cypress, then Gideon grab hold of the ladder and leap off the edge, leaving just Digory and me.
KABOOM!
Another Squawker missile strike.
CRACK!
A chink erupts in the stone underneath Digory and me. A tremor ripples through the wall as the chink turns into a ragged gash that rips down the wall between us. Our eyes meet. The sections we’re perched on begin to slide away from each other …
Digory grabs me and pulls me over the breach, tight against his chest, just as my side of the wall crumbles away. “You’re not getting away that easy!”
Even though I catch a glimpse of a smile, I can hear the thunder of his heart raging against me. I grip him tighter. Still tangled in each other, we both grasp the ladder and tumble off the side after the others, just as the loudest explosion of all rips through the air.
The Squawkers have breached the wall at last.
A blast of heat pushes us forward. If not for the ropes of ladder searing through my fingers, I’d swear we were free falling.
I can’t look down as we plunge. Then we’ve literally reached the end of our rope and are free falling.
A few seconds later, our bodies slam into marsh. We’re rolling through the muck, our arms locked around each other. A foul stench not unlike that of the sewers overpowers my nostrils, suffocating me with noxious ooze. I open my mouth to breathe, but only succeed in gulping a mouthful of pungent sludge. I spit it out and gag.
We’ve finally stopped spinning.
Digory pulls away to get a better look at me. “Still in one piece?”
I nod, not trusting my mouth to open again.
A terrible rumble fills my ears, and we both look up-
Just in time to see the wall collapsing toward us in a hailstorm of stone.
Digory springs to his feet and yanks me to mine. “Run!”
We slog through the fetid bog as fast as we can, dodging slabs of rock that crash everywhere around us, drenching us with putrid waves.
“This way.” Digory jerks me to the left just as a stone chunk slams into the ground that I occupied a mere second ago.
“Watch out! ” I return the favor by pushing him out of the way of another block twice his size.
Ahead of us, Cypress and Gideon are scrambling out of the quagmire, with Ophelia just ahead of them.
I grab Digory’s hand and tug him faster, too afraid to risk a glimpse at the destruction behind us that continues to pound the earth.
We clear the marshland at last and let go of hands, sprinting like the wind. Although I have the crushing urge to look into Digory’s eyes, I pull away and will myself to go faster and faster, despite the ache of my starving lungs and the wild hammer of my heavy heart.
I look up just in time to see Ophelia cross the finish line. She throws up her hands in triumph and drops to her knees.
My veins are an adrenaline refinery, charging the engine of my heart, which pistons my legs like a well-oiled machine.
Cypress crosses the finish line next. Unlike Ophelia, she collapses onto her back and just lies there … her ordeal over …
Scrounging the last of my energy reserves, I narrow the gap until I’m almost even with Gideon. I glance over and our eyes meet.
There’s a desperate hunger there. The first time I’ve seen it since we were recruited.
He wants to win this time. Just as badly as I do.
And every agonizing second he’s pulling further and further into the lead …
Digory’s a blur as he swoops past on my other side and catches up to Gideon. They race neck and neck, leaving me trailing in last place.
My lungs chug like a steam engine. They’re almost at the finish line. No way I can catch them, much less win-
Gideon stumbles into Digory, whether on purpose or accidentally, I can’t be sure. The two tumble to the ground just shy of their goal. I leap over their bodies and sail across the finish line. My chest heaving, I whirl.
Gideon’s crawling over Digory’s body, inches from the finish line.“I’m … sorry,” he sobs.
Digory’s eyes meet mine. �
��I’m sorry too.”
He lifts his torso up, thick chords bulging from the sides of his neck. Gideon’s eyes stretch wide. Then Digory twists around, grabs Gideon by the throat, and tosses him backward.
Gideon lands with a loud thud on his back.
And Digory crawls over the finish line and into my arms, burying his face against my chest.
I’m too stunned to speak and can only hold him, rocking him back and forth even as tears stream from my eyes and into his golden hair.
A few feet away, Gideon rises to a sitting position. The life that had returned to his eyes is gone again and he just stares, his lips moving soundlessly.
Recruit Warrick. You have ranked last in this Trial. You will now step forward onto the podium as there is still a selection to be made.
thirty-three
Still a selection? What the hell is Slade talking about? What else could he possibly choose? I thought that once you lost your second Incentive, it was just a matter of watching them be executed before you were condemned to the work camps. What new level of depravity are they sinking to now?
The familiar hum of a platform rising to the surface fills the quiet. It lifts all the way, then is as silent as it’s dark.
Gideon trudges across the finish line like a sleepwalker.
A long sigh hisses from Ophelia’s lips. “Oh, well. One down … ” She shakes her head and turns away.
Digory steps forward. “Gideon. I had no choice.”
“I forgive you.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter anymore anyway.”
His tone … the look in his eyes … sadden and terrify me.
Cypress wraps her arms around him.
He kisses her on the forehead and traces a tear down her cheek. “You’re supposed to be the tough one, remember?”
Her face contorts. “Y-yes, S-Sir.”
He smiles at her and pulls away.
Then he turns to me and takes off his glasses, placing them in my palm, and closes my fingers over them. “Can you hold these for me?”
A lump wedges in my throat. “Aren’t you going to need them?” My voice cracks.
He squeezes my hand. Then he walks past all of us and up the stairs until he’s standing right next to the chamber.
The lights in the enclosure grow bright.
Mr. Warrick is standing on one side of the structure separated by a partition from the other, darkened side. His arms are strapped to the wall behind him. He looks even more haggard, his hair scraggly threads, his eyes sunken and hollow. It’s as if he’s already died inside.
The outer door to the chamber hisses open.
Recruit Warrick. You will now step inside and make your selection.
Gideon walks past the threshold. He stumbles and braces himself against the glass, staring at his father.
The door hisses shut behind him and the lock engages with a sharp click.
Cypress’s bandaged hand trembles against mine. “What are they going to do now?”
I can only shake my head, terrified at what’s to come, unable to tear myself away.
Recruit Warrick. The time has now come for your second Incentive to be shelved. But you still have a choice in the matter.
The other half of the chamber lights up at last. My insides turn to liquid.
The entire side is jammed with rodents-large rats, larger than any I’ve ever seen in the Parish, at least three feet in length not counting their sickening pink serrated tails. They’ve obviously been bred as weapons, just like the bees that devoured Mrs. Juniper. Glowing orange eyes glare at us. The mutant rodents snap at each other with bared teeth, some chomping into the bodies of the others with razor-sharp fangs that drip with drool, greenish against the dark crimson wounds. Claws that are more like talons scratch against the glass of their prison. And to make things worse, the sound of their screeching, now amplified through the sound system, makes every hair on my body prickle …
Recruit Warrick. Either you allow your Incentive to be shelved in the manner prescribed … or, should you elect, you have the option of shelving your Incentive in a more sedate manner. One which you must carry out personally.
A pedestal rises from the floor.
On it lies a solitary object, reflecting the bright light in its smooth silver finish.
A gun.
Be warned. The weapon’s firepower will not penetrate the reinforced glass surrounding the chamber. You now have sixty seconds to make your decision, Recruit Warrick.
Gideon walks up to his father’s side of the tank and splays his fingers against it.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” he says. “I guess I am a real loser, just like everyone says.” He shrugs and drops his gaze, his shoulders heaving.
Mr. Warrick’s eyes stream wetness down the concaves of his cheeks. “I’m the one that’s sorry, son. For not protecting you, keeping you safe. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But please, son, I beg you. Show me mercy.”
He nudges his head toward the rats without looking at them, his face flinching against the sounds of scratching and screeching. “I don’t want to go that way.”
Gideon lumbers toward the pedestal and stares at the gun. He face is a mask of indecision and anguish as he traces a finger over the barrel.
“You’re a better person than your mother and I ever were.” Mr. Warrick’s words quaver.
One of the rats screeches so loudly I fight not to cover my ears.
Recruit Warrick, carry out the sentence.
He grasps the gun in a trembling hand and slogs back toward Mr. Warrick. When the glass separating them slides into the floor, Gideon runs to his father, throwing his arms around him.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I wish things could be different … ”
Mr. Warrick closes his eyes. “So do I, son.”
BAM!
Gideon kisses his father’s cheek and moves away. Blood gushes from a wound right over Mr. Warrick’s heart. For the first time since I laid eyes on him at the Graduation Ceremony, Mr. Warrick looks serene, as if he’s merely taking a well-deserved nap.
The suffering’s over for him.
Recruit Warrick. You have accomplished your task. Now return the weapon to its proper location and prepare to be transported to the work camps.
But Gideon doesn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, he staggers from his father’s lifeless body and presses against the glass that’s overlooking us.
We all rush up to face him, even Ophelia.
Recruit Warrick. Return the weapon at once. This is an order. Failure to do so will subject you to immediate shelving protocol.
My heart’s running an obstacle course of its own at Slade’s warning. I’m pressed against the glass trying to will myself to melt through it somehow. I need to touch Gideon. Now … before …
“Gideon. Please. Listen to them. Put down the gun.” I try to sound calm, but I can hear the panicked edge creeping into my own voice. “You can go to the camps. At least you’ll still have a chance.”
He shakes his head. “Thank you.” His eyes sweep the four of us. “Thank you all for trying. But I’m so tired … I just need to rest … yeah … that’s it … just rest. It’s gone on way too long.” He smiles despite the stream leaking down his cheeks, onto the bridge of his nose.
Recruit Warrick. You are in violation of a direct order. Under the military code, you must now be shelved.
The enclosure holding the rats begins to vibrate as it prepares to slide open and let them loose-
My fist clenches Gideon’s glasses so tightly I can feel the frames cutting into my skin. “Don’t be stupid. Things can change.”
“Listen to him, Gideon.” Digory bangs on the glass himself. Cypress’s bloodied hand is cupped over her mouth.
Gideon slides down the transparent wall and I mimic him from my side, nose to nose, separated by the reinforced glass, so thin, but impenetrable.
He shakes his head. “There’s nothing for me now.” He cocks his head as if he could whisper through the barrier. “I wan
ted to be a good person. Make a difference … But I … I mean … after my mom … my dad … ” He shrugs and his eyes connect with mine. “Am I unforgivable, Lucian?”
The panel holding back the writhing rodents rises an inch …
I pound as hard as I can. But the glass doesn’t shatter. The only thing that does is my heart.
“You are a good person, Gideon. You are,” I sob.
“Thanks for everything.” He smiles at me. “I wish we could have gotten to know each other better in school.”
He lifts the gun to his temple and looks right at me.
I can’t breathe.
“Don’t do it !” Cypress shrieks. She grabs onto me, her fingers digging into my arm.
Gideon squeezes the trigger-
CLICK.
It’s empty. The gun drops from his hand and clatters on the floor.
I sag against Digory. Of course they’d only load it with one bullet.
Gideon’s face is a mixture of regret and fear. “That’s what I figured.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that flashes in the light … something familiar …
I open my hand, staring at his glasses-and at the empty socket on one side, where the lens has been removed.
He shrugs. “I hope it’s not too dark … ”
“Gideon, no!” I shout.
He jabs the small shard into his throat, tearing a ragged smile all the way across it, choking and gurgling as a dark river flows down his neck.
His head slumps over.
And then I can’t hear the rats’ claws, the screeches, my heartbeat … nothing but my wails, which drown out everything else.
Far above, in that opening that let the Squawkers through, the sun tears through the dark veil of night and into a cloudy morning.
We’ve been at it for hours. The four of us pause in our labors and lean against the mound of sticks to gaze at it, no one saying a word. The muted light casts a creeping grayish brown pall over us. For a moment we’re frozen in time, like an old sepia-toned photograph.
But time’s fleeting. No matter how hard we try to capture it, it always trickles away through our fingers like fine sand, gone forever.
As the soft light deepens to a fiery orange, I can’t help but think how cold the sunrise is despite its radiant warmth, how indifferent to the fact that one less pair of eyes will ever be in awe of its majesty.
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