The Culling ttk-1
Page 30
I crowd in front of it. A cloud of frosty smoke billows out, obscuring the opening. Then a set of steps unfolds from the capsule, leading to my feet.
I step closer, arms held wide to hug him and never let him go-
Ophelia shoves me out of the way and starts to dash up the stairs toward Cole.
I leap on her and we crash into the railing. The thin metal gives, sending us both over the edge. My nails dig into the rusty metal of the rim to keep from going over as Ophelia dangles from my boot, which starts to slip off.
She stares up at me. “They made me kill my Maddie.” Her eyes turn to slits. “Take them down.”
She lets go, her body somersaulting once before slamming into one of the spires from the Lady’s crown.
Blood gushes from the wound, dripping down onto the Lady’s eyes, where it mixes with the drizzling rain and streams down her stone cheeks.
Pulling myself back over the edge, I collapse, a mangled heap of emotions.
The rain’s all but stopped now. Dawn seeps through the clouds, the fledgling rays warm against my ice-cold skin.
I look up and gasp.
It’s Cole.
He steps through the last wisps of the fading cloud of cryogenic frost like a beautiful angel from the old tales, coming down from the clouds. He’s rubbing his eyes as if he just woke up from one of his nightmares.
He sees me … and stops.
I can’t move.
All this time, I imagined running to him if I ever saw him again, scooping him up in my arms.
But now that he’s standing just a few feet away, I can only stare, paralyzed with emotion, overpowered by watching a wish I dared dream becoming a reality before my eyes.
My mind races. There are a million things I want to say.
When I open my mouth, all my thoughts logjam in my throat.
“Hi,” is the only thing that comes out.
“Hi,” he says back, staring at me with those big brown eyes.
Just hearing his voice again is like the first spring day after a long, hard winter. I bask in his brightness, taking him all in. “You’ve gotten taller,” I finally say. As I clear my throat, I feel my eyes growing moist.
His lower lip quivers. “Lucky, why are you sad?”
The words send a pang through my heart. “I was so afraid you’d think I wasn’t coming for you.”
He looks confused. “But you always take care’a me.” His eyes grow sheepish.
The dam breaks. I can’t contain the flood any longer. I bury my face in my hands. So much has happened … so many have suffered … and died. Yet I endure. And so does my brother. And we have each other. And as fleeting as that may be, it makes everything just a little less dark.
I feel his warm hands around my neck and I open my eyes.
“Are you okay, Lucky?”
Laughter bursts from my lips, from deep within a well I thought had dried up ages ago. “Yes, buddy. I’m okay … now.”
Somehow, I find the strength to lift him up.
Two Squawkers appear in the distance, our transport back to Infiernos no doubt.
Hugging Cole tight, we both stare out across the brilliant waters, watching as the strong current creates ripples that spread across the horizon as far as the eye can see.
forty-one
I press my face against the window of our tenement.
You can never really pull together the threads of an old life after they’ve unraveled.
It’s not like our neighborhood in the Parish is any different. In fact, it’s still exactly the same as the last time Cole and I saw it-the cobblestone streets filled with potholes, garbage littering the alleys, plumes of smoke from the factories draping the horizon in a cloud of smog … the haunted faces of the passersby, hustling to get indoors before curfew. Nothing’s changed.
Yet everything has.
I sensed it the moment Cole and I disembarked from the transport that brought us home from Infiernos several days ago. We decided to walk home hand in hand rather than have a military escort.
It was in the way people sneaked looks at us, awe and fear crowding their faces. The way they averted their gaze rather than make eye contact.
We’re not part of them anymore. We’re not an Us. We’re a Them.
And the truth is, the Lucky who once played Dodge Piss in these streets and rummaged through Dumpsters … the same one that accepted living in squalor and an early death … that Lucky died during the Trials, along with the others.
I stare, for a moment, at the small wooden number 1 I plucked from above Mrs. Bledsoe’s door, then toss it into the hearth and watch as it smolders into ash.
We could have stayed at the Citadel these last few days, but as the victorious Recruit, I was granted permission to return here. The place we’ve always called home.
This is where it began. It seems fitting that this is where it should end.
Cole and I haven’t spoken about what our lives were like during the time we were apart. Maybe it’s for the best. And now, on this, our last night together, why spoil it with talk of terrible things?
Tomorrow morning, I ship out to parts unknown to begin my new life as an Imposer trainee. I glance at my neatly pressed uniform hanging from one of the rafters, sporting the shiny silver Imposer pin I was awarded for being the last Recruit left standing-
Just like Cassius.
But so different in every way.
Gideon was wrong when he told me we’d all been selected as Recruits because of the darkness within us. I was never supposed to be selected. I don’t fit the profile. Neither did Digory. Cassius made a critical error in trying to get his revenge. I’ll wear their uniform, say what they want to hear-even as I use every skill, every tactic, that they teach me to plot against them.
What better way to slay the monster than from within?
I reach into my nightshirt and clasp Digory’s ID tag to my heart.
I won’t ever give up until I bring them down.
Somewhere out there is a group of freedom fighters that I’m going to make contact with. And then there’s the Fleshers. I need to find out what they are, and why they terrify the Establishment so. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can on my own-sabotage munitions depots, penetrate defense grids, destroy supply lines-anything I can to hasten the day when people can be free and dare to dream.
Cole’s feet pad on the creaky floorboards.
I smile. “You ready for bed?”
“Yup.” The springs of his mattress squeak as he sinks into his cot and I tuck him in.
The light from the gas lamp flickers across his face.
I kiss his forehead. “G’night, buddy.”
I’m about to turn out the light when his hand stops mine.
“Lucky. What happened to the Magic City? Did it disappear when the Lady’s fire went away?”
I clasp his hand in mine. “Her fire didn’t go away Cole. It’s still around. Inside all of us.” I tap his chest. “Right here.”
His laughter’s like soothing music. “Can you tell me more stories about the Lady?”
“Don’t worry. I will. And I’ll also tell you stories about her friends.”
“What are their names?”
“There’s Gideon, and Cypress, and … ” My eyes well and I turn my head so he can’t see. I tweak his nose instead.
He tweaks my nose back.
I clear my throat. “And then there’s a very special little girl named Maddie, and her poor big sister Ophelia who got lost in the dark, but found her way back again by the light of the Lady’s torch.”
“I think I’m gonna like that story.”
My throat tightens. “The last friend is very special. He helps the others along on their adventures. And he brought me to you.”
“What’s his name?” Cole asks.
I swipe my eyes. “His name’s … Digory.”
He smiles. “He sounds nice.”
I smile back. “He is.”
Cole’s eyes cloud ove
r. He cups my cheeks in his hands. “I don’t want to keep the stories a secret anymore,” he whispers.
I nod. “You don’t have to. We’re going to pass on the stories to others-as many people as we can-so that no one will ever forget the Lady and her friends.”
Cole claps his hands. “Oh, I like that!”
I ruffle his hair.
My nose touches his. “I love you, Cole. Always have. Always will.”
His face breaks out into a broad grin. “I love you, too.”
Then we’re hugging each other.
“There once were five friends who went to visit the Lady,” I begin.
The stories go on long into the night, and don’t stop even after the flame goes out and the first rays of a new day filter through the window.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-4c2d2e-0036-9547-98a9-7a59-5335-c77cde
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 10.03.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.22, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Steven Dos Santos
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