Chosen Ones (The Lost Souls, #1)

by Tiffany Truitt

  “Oh, anything.” When had my voice ever sounded so eager?

  He chuckled and flashed me a genuine smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. I felt something drop in my stomach. Did I just smile? It had been an unconscious response.

  It was then I heard the song, the same song we had played on the piano. My hands shook slightly as if they ached to play it themselves, awakening in them the freedom I had tasted in the piano room. I leaned my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes. This was heaven. I heard the crackle of the record player as the song ended.

  “Again,” I whispered, still keeping my eyes closed.

  He didn’t reply. I barely heard him move, but the song started up again.

  I let the music seep through me, taking me over—I didn’t care if he was watching. The notes ran up my spine; I could feel goose bumps rise across my hands. I suppressed the chattering of my teeth. It was rebellious, and I craved it so. But it was more than that. It was love—pure, uncomplicated love. It was my father. It was Emma. Everything I had to repress on a daily basis. It was Henry. It was the boy sitting in the room with me.

  My eyes flashed open at the thought of him. He was looking away, though I saw how the blush moved down his cheeks to his neck. He looked as if he had stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to see. The music came to a stop. The sound of my heavy breathing filled the room; it was almost deafening. I could feel my heart happily fluttering.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Beautiful,” I said softly.

  “Yes,” he replied, staring down at his hands, still avoiding my gaze.

  How could I explain what the song meant to me? There were no words.

  “Don’t worry; we will listen to it again next time,” he said.

  When the song ended, I couldn’t fully believe that I would ever get to hear the music again. I wondered if he read the disappointment I felt, because in that instant he reached out to touch my face, and I slammed myself against the wall as fast as I could. He would not touch me like that. I wouldn’t let him. He had tried to touch my cheek. That was unacceptable, a world of danger I was not willing to enter.

  And worst of all, I actually wondered what it would feel like to be touched again.

  He placed his hands out, palms facing mine, a stance of surrender. “I’m not going to touch you. I promise. I’m sorry.”

  I wanted to run, but I had to remember who and where I was. I still answered to him and his people, and overreacting would only make things worse. After a few moments, I moved a step closer to him.

  “I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

  I hadn’t, of course. My reaction was justified, right, and acceptable.

  “No, your reaction at least made sense. You must always remind me of my place, Tess.”

  “Isn’t it your job to remind me of mine?” I blurted without thinking.

  He laughed. His laugh was almost becoming familiar to me.

  “I think it is probably all right for you to return now.”

  “Oh, yes, right,” I mumbled.

  “Well, I guess I will see you next time. We’ll move on to books. I was thinking maybe a bit of Shakespeare or the Brontës. You seem like you would be a fan.”

  My mind was whirling with the thought. Part of me never wanted to see him again, and part of me shuddered at the possibility of passing up the opportunity he was offering. The more realistic side of me knew it did not matter what I felt—I had no choice, of course. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear it. Then I stopped abruptly before exiting the room.

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  I’m not sure why this mattered.

  “James.”

  I could feel the change even on the transport home. The other girls kept looking at me in such strange ways. Some girls giggled and whispered, pinching me with their eyes. A few avoided my gaze so forcefully it was bluntly and painfully obvious. One girl in particular just stared. She looked at me with what could only be described as sadness.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that the next chapter of my story was already known to everyone on the transport. Everyone except me.

  Chapter 6

  I remember the day Emma told me she was getting married.

  “Please try and understand, Tess,” my sister begged.

  Of course I understood. If I were honest, I would have told her I understood perfectly. I knew what everyone thought of me—they thought I had no heart. I did. It beat the same as everyone else’s. I was just better at controlling it.

  But I didn’t know how to put a smile on my face and pretend it didn’t destroy me a little more every time I admitted I wished for something or someone just to stay with me. And so I avoided wishing for anything at all.

  “You like Robert. You told me you liked him,” she said.

  She was begging me now. I sat on my cot with my knees pulled to my chest. Emma sat next to me and placed her forehead against the side of my head. I could feel her tears fall onto my shoulder.

  “You don’t need my permission,” I snapped.

  “Yes, yes I do.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “So, if I said right now that I didn’t want you to marry him, you wouldn’t?”

  She fell silent. My sister, who had always put everyone first, finally had done something for herself. I didn’t mind that. I just wished she wasn’t showing her independence by choosing death.

  “What if you get pregnant?” I whispered.

  She hesitated before answering. “I won’t.”

  “You can’t just say it won’t happen and hope it doesn’t. That’s not how it works.”

  She let out a sigh.

  She was going to leave me.

  I grabbed for her hand and clutched onto it with all my might. “Please. Don’t. This is dangerous. I like Robert, but he messes you up. You don’t think around him.”

  “Tess…”

  “You have a family. Why can’t we be enough?” I asked, my voice cracking.

  “I love you and Louisa, but there’s more to this life than what you have settled for. You’ve crawled so deep inside yourself I wonder if you even know you have a self to save. Trust me. There’s so much more to this life. I love him, Tess. I love him.”

  I shook my head.

  “One day you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

  “No. I won’t ever be dumb enough to fall in love!” I yelled. I pushed myself off the cot and stormed out of the room, colliding with Louisa on my way. No doubt she was eavesdropping.

  “You’re not being very fair.”

  “Leave me alone,” I muttered.

  She grabbed me by the arm to stop me. “I’m scared, too.” Her eyes filled with tears, and I wondered if she was freaking out. When our sister died, she would be stuck with only me. The girl who sought approval would never be able to win mine.

  We were too different from each other to ever have that happen.

  “Come on. She’s really excited about this. Can’t you be happy for her?”

  I wished I could. I wished my sister would be happy. But I turned on Louisa. “Do you want to see her dead?”

  Her face went pale. “She promised she would be careful. And I believe her. She won’t let us down. Rob’s a good guy, Tess. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Emma. You should know that.”

  I rolled my eyes. Delusional.

  “You’re just jealous,” Louisa replied.

  “What?”

  “You think you’re better than all of us, but I see the way you look at Henry. You think he’s cute. You’re always so quiet when he’s around and you used to laugh at his weird, dark jokes. You like him, but you figure you’re not brave enough to let him in, so no one else can have anyone.”

  I wanted to yell at her, tell her she was ridiculous, but suddenly found it impossible to speak.

  Out of nowhere, I was struck by how much Louisa resembled my mother. She looked less and less like a little girl and more like a woman every day. Her r
eckless nature and uncontrolled emotions left her vulnerable. And she was growing prettier and prettier.

  “If you think I’m a girl who cares more about some boy than the safety of her sister, then you don’t know me at all,” I said.

  “How can anyone know you? Me least of all. You think I’m just some kid, an annoying little brat. Emma’s all I have too, you know. But I love her enough to be happy for her!”

  Without another word, Louisa left me standing in the hallway.

  I pushed through the crowds that were heading into the mess hall. I just wanted to be alone. No. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to be with Emma, but she had chosen someone else.

  Robert.

  Was I jealous?

  I walked back and forth in the little dirt courtyard behind the compound. It wasn’t much, but at least it was away from the constant noise. There’s nothing like being surrounded by a bunch of people to really make you feel alone.

  I grabbed a piece of coal and threw it into the air. There was a ton of the stuff lying around—relics from the compound’s past. I noticed how the coal left black smudges against my hand. I liked the feel of it on my fingers, a silky yet gritty coating over my skin.

  Contradictory. Different. Always.

  With a ragged grunt, I sat down on the ground. I took the piece of coal I held in my hand and began to sketch out a set of piano keys. I just needed the music again. If I could only have the music, I would be able to save my family.

  As I pressed my fingers into the dirt I began to hum. I hummed the only song I could remember.

  I kept playing it over and over until a shadow fell across me.

  “I didn’t know you were planning a concert tonight,” Robert remarked.

  I didn’t turn to look at him. I worried his face would undo me. He was hard to hate.

  “Please. Go away,” I whispered.

  Instead, Robert crouched down beside me. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, and I fought against the strange need to turn my body toward him. I was filled with the same feeling that always consumed me when I was around him—like I knew him. Like he had existed in my life before this place.

  But that wasn’t possible.

  “I’d love to let you sit here and mope, but that wouldn’t be very nice of someone who’s going to call you family soon.”

  “Family,” I repeated.

  “Yes, Tess. Family. Can’t you see what you’re gaining here? I can help protect your sisters. I know you feel like you’ve got to do it all on your own, but I can help,” he said.

  “By getting Emma pregnant,” I charged.

  “I won’t let that happen. I’ll make her do the sterilization.”

  “Good luck. She refuses it, Robert, you know that. Please stop talking to me like we both don’t know what this is about.”

  “What’s this about then?” he asked quietly.

  It was about everything changing. Robert had been a good friend to us all. Now he wouldn’t be that anymore. He would belong to her, and she would belong to him.

  Robert reached out and grabbed my hand. “Please, talk to her. She’s really upset. I’ll protect her, Tess, I swear.”

  I could feel the coal residue slip between our hands. I was unable to stop myself from turning to face him. He loved my sister. I couldn’t blame him.

  I couldn’t.

  “Swear, Robert. Swear again,” I urged.

  “I swear.”

  I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat.

  “Now will you go talk to her?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. I can’t. I just needed to hear you promise to take care of her.”

  I ripped my hand from Robert’s and walked away.

  Chapter 7

  Emma’s funeral was a joke. If the naturals from the compound expected me to wither under their need to see me mourn, they only found disappointment. I wasn’t going to pretend to feel something just to give others hope there would be someone to cry over their deaths. I was better than the rest of them when it came to dealing with loss. I’d had years of practice.

  Whatever I felt was for me alone.

  I was able to drown out the noise of crying from the fellow inhabitants of the compound. I was even able to force out her smell, the heat trying in vain quite forcefully to drown me in her decay. I glanced toward Robert, his promise from back then echoing in my ears. He wasn’t hiding his tears, but it was something else that locked me to him: the way he clenched his fists. A need for violence.

  Was he angry with me? I’d never approved of their relationship. I refused to go to their wedding. When she told me she was pregnant, I didn’t talk to her for weeks. And Robert, I loathed him and made no secret of it. It was the most powerful emotion I had ever felt.

  As our eyes met, it was as if we were in a soundproof cell, just me, him, and an unspeakable anger. When the clergy finished, we both reached for a handful of dirt, waiting to see who would drop it onto her grave first. Who would bury her? I refused. He had killed her, not me. You can wrap it up in a pretty package and call it love, but it was still murder.

  Robert’s hand released the dirt. Then, without warning, he grabbed my wrist, pulling me close to him. I ignored the gasps of the others. No one seemed to move, and I never once flinched. I could feel his fingers digging into my skin. But then, as soon as it happened, he released me, staggering back. Lost. I kept my eyes on him even as his back turned to me. I continued to stare as my hand reluctantly released the dirt onto her grave. I seriously began to wonder why women had been labeled the weaker sex.

  Gwen told me I didn’t have to attend work that afternoon. Maybe she thought she was doing me a favor; she wasn’t. The compound was the last place I wanted to be. Everywhere I went people sought me out to ask how I was coping, or if I needed anything.

  The funny thing about death is how much people want to take from you. I was the one who had lost a sister, but everyone looked to me to ease their own fears, their pain. Her death was cathartic for them—a release, a space in which to mourn the lives they had lost.

  Death was also an opportunity for some to spout their religious views. The whole “this life sucks but the next one would be better” crap. I didn’t believe that. Maybe there was a God. It didn’t matter either way. Did we need to pray to Him anymore? We had allowed the council to put our faith in the chosen ones. They were God, and we had made it that way. I couldn’t answer to someone I didn’t see, someone who didn’t feed and protect me.

  Believing in Him had done nothing for my grandparents, who watched as millions and millions of people died from the bomb that was dropped, and thousands of others who died from the effects of radiation. It did nothing for my parents, who tried to build a life in the ruins of a war that started before they were even born. It did nothing for my sisters and me, who spent our childhoods feeling the pangs of hunger because our country had split in two, unable to agree on the best way to rebuild, reorganize, and regroup after the devastation.

  The crazy thing was, the council supported freedom of religion with an indescribable passion. One of my people’s greatest fears concerning the creation of the chosen ones surrounded the belief that they had no souls. Scientists had played God, and the naturals warned that our government was trying to convince us we didn’t need one. The council maintained that it was God who had given them the intelligence and technology to create beings that would protect us. The council’s abilities to analyze and create, the gifts of intellect and innovation, were no different than the chameleon that could hide itself from a predator. Their ability to create life in a lab, an endless army of soldiers, forever strong and dedicated to the cause, was a gift from God—our own Moses. Except now we had an army of prophets. And to prove the council’s support of religion, their dedication to all things holy, they allowed copies of all religious texts inside the compound. The only books allowed.

  Some naturals clung reverently onto their religion. I always thought it allowed them to convince themselv
es they still had a purpose. We had no jobs, no need to be educated, and no reason to get married. No sense of importance at all; we just existed.

  As I made my way toward my sleeping quarters, I noticed I was being followed. Jacobson, my father’s friend. The only one I remember my father having. Could I even call them friends? Or were they merely partners in some deception?

  I was sure something about his connection to my father had led him to be assigned to Templeton. What had he done? It must have been something bad—not bad enough to disappear, but bad enough to be sentenced to that place for so long.

  Was there any relationship I was familiar with that wasn’t about taking something from someone? My mom used people to score booze. My little sister used people to make herself feel worthy. Robert used my sister for sex.

  Right?

  No. He loved her. He loved her so much.

  Jacobson looked nervous, and I wondered if it was merely a manifestation of the uncomfortable nature of talking to someone who’d just watched her sister die. Perhaps it had something to do with the strange look he’d given me when I was walking with James.

  For some reason, I was willing to talk to him. Jacobson had been very kind to my mother and sisters after we first entered the compound. I wasn’t naive enough to ignore the fact he did it out of guilt. The council had taken him with my father for questioning, and he was the only one who returned. But I never blamed him. I blamed my father.

  Besides, I kind of had to respect the man for surviving. That’s all I was trying to do.

  “Hello, Tessa,” Jacobson half mumbled.

  Tessa. I hadn’t heard him call me that in almost a decade. I used to think he was loopy and couldn’t remember my name. He looked so old, so broken now. Would my father look like this if he still lived? I nodded, suddenly unable to produce any words. Jacobson took a deep breath and pulled something from inside his coat. Paper. Letters, tied together by a black ribbon.

  “These are for you,” he whispered.

  I looked up at him in confusion. What the hell did they have to do with me?