The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series)

by Tricia Wentworth

  It’s downright frigid today, and we are expecting a good old-fashioned blizzard any day now. I can’t help but be a little happy about that. Snow on Christmas? The mountains in the background? My family here? Minus the impending inner and outer evil, does it get any more magical than that?

  “How are you holding up, sis?” Ashton asks as soon as we are alone. He unleashes Shepp, who immediately jogs around to do his doggy duties while we walk.

  I sigh. “I’m fine,” I lie, “Just want to get these last few weeks over with. There’s just so much going on.”

  He considers that. “I think you have had to go through more than any of us would have ever expected. It’s crazy for me to even think about everything you have gone through these last few months, and I didn’t even have to experience it.”

  I sigh. “Yeah. Probably true.”

  He looks at me like a concerned brother. “But you have handled yourself great. Really, Regs. I would have thought surely by now they would have kicked you out due to some sort of temper outburst.”

  I roll my eyes but can’t help but smile with him.

  “So at this ball?” he asks with bouncing eyebrows and is back to the playful Ashton I know and love. “Will there be any ladies you can introduce me to?”

  I roll my eyes. “Why? It isn’t like you are settling down anytime soon.”

  He feigns offense. “Hey. I was just waiting until we moved to Denver. Now I have a whole other pool of women to choose from,” he wiggles his eyebrows even more suggestively and I laugh. Then he adds more seriously, “But you and Lyncoln. You really have it.” He shrugs. “I do want that someday.”

  “Really?” I ask surprised.

  Ashton is a wild child, could have had his pick of women in Omaha but was never really serious with any of them. This is the first he has ever remotely mentioned settling down. Maybe he’s finally coming around. Or maybe he realizes his deadline is approaching. One or the other.

  He shrugs. “Eventually, yeah. Right now I’m just looking forward to all Denver has to offer,” he winks dramatically.

  “Pig,” I scold.

  “It worked for you, sister dearest.” He ducks out of arms reach so I can’t whop him one. “Gotta love me,” he throws out his usual line and grins, holding his arms stretched wide.

  “Lord knows how we all do,” I giggle.

  ****

  I’m dressed in a cobalt blue dress for the interview. It’s strapless and tight fitting to my waist, and there’s a sheer material that flows from above my knees to the floor. So it looks like a short dress, save for the skirt of the see-through material. A few tiny jewels can be found down my dress in different spots. My hair is down in curls around my back, and I’m wearing a gorgeous necklace that I’m sure is worth a small fortune. I feel silly wearing a dress this revealing in the dead of winter, but it’s so gorgeous I don’t even mind my arms being bare the whole time.

  Lyncoln is wearing a light tan, almost white, suit with a cobalt blue shirt and tie. When he wears lighter suits I am reminded of how much brown there is in his eyes. The rarity of his eye color combination is almost as rare as he is. He is definitely one in a million, an odd mixture of protective and aggression and testosterone all battling to win within a six-foot-two frame of hottness.

  “I do like this one,” Lyncoln nods in approval as he checks me over.

  I smile. “You say that every time. You ready to go woo over the voters?”

  He nods as we both remember Dougall’s words from this morning warning us how “tight” this next vote may be.

  After only briefly kissing, we head downstairs with our guards. Frank and Gertie are there to do the last-minute touch ups. My parents will be watching our interview live and then meeting us for dinner afterward. I keep reminding myself of that, so we can get through this interview in good spirits. I’m having a hard time not being overwhelmed with worry for this newest Hadenfelt development, but it helps to know all of DIA has Lyncoln’s back and would take a bullet for him.

  Freaking Hadenfelt. Why again didn’t they just arrest him the second they found out he was dirty with the drifters? Or even the second he set me up with Isabella?

  “Ms. Scott. Mr. Reed,” Dougall greets us. “Good evening.”

  We greet her in return and the interview begins. She asks us a few questions about our project proposal and how it would be implemented if we win. I’m glad to take those questions and am quite pleased with the questions she does ask. I’m still amazed it had that much of an impact on the voters.

  Then Dougall gets serious. “Let’s talk about Lyncoln’s military reputation for a moment. As we toured the townships, we soon figured out his reputation is well known, not just in Denver, but across the country. Can you tell us how that is, and why it is something you are passionate about?”

  Lyncoln half-smiles and thinks a moment. Then he sighs and looks a little sad before his confident look returns. He gives my hand a squeeze before beginning. “Something people may not remember or even know is that when I was just 13, my father was murdered.”

  Dougall and I are both shocked by this answer. She told him she was going to ask this earlier and he had an answer prepared, but it wasn’t this one. Where is he going with this? How odd of him to bring it up today of all days, when I just learned what I did. I turn towards him to get closer, switching the hands of mine that he’s holding so I can rest my hand closest to him on his knee and squeeze it as our usual show of support for one another.

  He continues, “It affected me more than you know. Post-Trident, all evil was kind of supposed to be purged from the world. Or so we liked to think. I guess it was a cold slap of reality to the face that even when good prevails, evil is always still there. It never is truly gone, it’s just lurking there somewhere in the darkness, waiting for its time. Hiding within each of us.”

  I feel tears sting my eyes at his beautiful but sad words as he continues, “Then I turned 16 and started my basic training. I, more than most people, understood that our military was still needed. No, there aren’t as many murders or as much crime as there was before Trident, but that doesn’t mean that when they do happen it makes them any less significant.”

  I immediately think of Oliver and one lone tear escapes down my cheek. I don’t bother to wipe it away because I’m stuck entranced by Lyncoln’s words, giving him my full attention.

  He pauses a moment, thinking. “I guess although we all get complacent in a post-Trident world, there are still things that need to be done. We don’t have a police force anymore; the military is our police force. Our military is needed to protect its citizens from any and all harm that comes its way, whether from an outside source or an inside one. This is what makes our military our most valuable asset. We have amazing people who can accomplish amazing things and improve our country, but they cannot do their jobs if they are not first and foremost safe. And although the bad in the world is less frequent, it’s still out there. The minute we let our guard down and think the military isn’t needed is the minute we will need it the most. There isn’t such a thing as being ‘too safe’. Our safety must be continually and relentlessly pursued.”

  He takes a deep breath and smirks. “So, I threw myself into the military as a hot-headed kid. Losing my dad in a world that was supposed to be good really messed me up and left me jaded. But, learning all that our military does, even the little things that no one knows about or hears about, made me realize I could work in a field that offered me the opportunity to prevent what happened to me from happening to anyone else. I don’t wish that pain upon anyone. And the discipline I learned from the military brought me back from a dark place. Seeing my father murdered forced me to become a man, but the military molded me into one he would’ve been proud of.”

  More tears roll down my face. I squeeze Lyncoln’s knee again and look at him affectionately. That was absolutely beautiful. It was good for the people to hear since they don’t even know about the drifters. And only Denver people know what
happened to his dad, if they remember.

  He looks at me a moment and reaches to wipe away a tear on my face. I can see that as hard as it was for him to talk about his dad, he is also glad he said it. He’s the type of man that would rather face it head on than to have people whisper about it behind his back.

  Dougall smiles sympathetically. “I am truly sorry you lost your dad in such a way.”

  He nods solemnly. “Me too.”

  Dougall takes a second before cocking her head to the side and continuing, “You have said before you want to expand the military and improve the military bases within each of the townships. Is there a reason for that? Are they not safe?”

  Interesting. Wow. Does she want us to spill the beans about the drifters right here and right now? We exchange a quick look and communicate without words that now isn’t the time. The people need to know, but not right now.

  “Not safe enough,” Lyncoln answers simply. “Seeing what I have seen and having been through everything that I have in the last five years with my military career, I cannot give you specific examples because it is classified information, but I am confident in saying they are nowhere near safe enough.”

  Dougall nods before turning to me. “Now for a less serious question, if elected you will be married at the start of the new year. You will be marrying someone you have only known a few short months. We can clearly see your care for one another, but Reagan, can you tell us how you feel confident enough to marry the person sitting next to you, having not even met him before this fall?”

  I grin. I bet this question will be fun for Marisol and Henry.

  I then turn to smile at the man I adore and hold my shoulders high in confidence as I begin, “Although we haven’t known each other long, I feel the situation speeds up the depths of our feelings for one another. We have spent countless hours together. We even had to go through simulations together learning to fight for and protect one another. We went through losing one of our friends during the Culling. We have had to endure numerous exercises and scenarios on the fly. Sure, I haven’t known Lyncoln long. But, I know him. The Culling circumstances force you to see the true personality traits of a person instead of only what they want you to see, like peeling off the mask of what a person is trying to portray to see the true soul beneath it.”

  I pause thinking, “It’s like a sped-up version of dating. It took years for me to know my friends in Omaha like I know my friends from the Culling, and I’ve only known them a few months. I know exactly who Lyncoln is, not excluding his flaws. Because of that, I have zero doubts about marrying him. Our relationship may have developed quickly, but I have no question about its longevity. He is not perfect. I am not perfect. But, I can confidently say I will marry this man with or without the presidency. He is my partner… for life.”

  Before I’m even done speaking, Lyncoln kisses me quick on the corner of my mouth.

  Dougall grins and clarifies to the cameras for me, “By the way, the simulations are a fake reality that is created in which the candidates have to find and take down an enemy or target using pellet guns, for those of you at home confused. Candidates are both mentally and physically put to the test using such simulations.”

  “And just for the record,” Lyncoln smirks, hand in the air in gesture, “Although I hate to admit it in front of her, the future Mrs. Reed has one heck of a shot.”

  We both laugh and Dougall finishes up our interview. Dougall looks pleased with our performance. When the cameras go off, Elle finds us.

  She hugs me and looks to Lyncoln grinning. “That was impressive. You didn’t have to do that, but it will definitely get you votes. Not that you intended it that way.” She stops frustrated, taking a deep breath and fixing her hair bun. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me. What I am trying to say, is that it was both beautiful and genius.”

  I feel butterflies in my stomach as I start to hope that maybe just maybe we can win this thing after all.

  ****

  Although I love, love, love my parents being here, I feel like Lyncoln and I have rarely been alone since they arrived. Or since I knew they had arrived. After dinner, we sit around talking for a while and then eventually everyone heads off to bed. Ashton and Lyncoln are in the middle of a history of World War II discussion and I’m literally falling asleep in my chair in the dining room.

  All I want to do is curl up and sleep with Lyncoln’s arms around me, but I know I’m being selfish. I want him to have a good relationship with my family, so I need to give him time to get to know them. This dress, though gorgeous, is starting to feel heavy and I just want my pajamas right now. If I can’t be selfish and have Lyncoln all to myself right now, I’m going to be selfish and have my pajamas. Next best thing, right? Today has been full of so much information and then we had an interview to top it all off. I’m beat.

  And in addition to all that, I feel a little like we are living dual lives. One minute we are happy with our families and then the next we are just trying to keep our heads above water with the drifters, Hadenfelt, and the Culling campaigning. Will it be like this if we were to win the presidency? Can we have balance with our families or will it be all work and no play?

  “Boys. I’m out,” I say finally, interrupting them with a yawn. I give Lyncoln a kiss on the cheek and leave for my room.

  I get out of my dress and into some pajamas pronto. This day has sucked. It started with Dougall and Elle telling us how tight this next vote will be. Then no Hadenfelt news. And then the big shocker, the link between Hadenfelt and Lyncoln’s dad’s death. Suckity, suck, suck. Mondayest Monday ever. The interview went well, and I got to go for a walk with Ashton, so maybe today wasn’t a total bust though?

  As I lie in my comfy bed, I think of that hateful man. I try to think like he would. He has a deal with the drifters. He wants his daughter to win. He hates both Lyncoln and me and doesn’t want to see us win. What would he have done? What deal would he have made?

  Maybe just an alliance of sorts if Marisol does win? No. That can’t be it; he wouldn’t ever want to share the power with the drifters once he got more of it from his daughter’s position. He’s too greedy. Information on Lyncoln and me? No, that wouldn’t be good enough. They already creepily had all the information on the Culling candidates. A way to sabotage the voting to ensure Marisol wins? Maybe. But the drifters could care less about our election processes. Something they need then? Like food when they were starving? Weapons this time? Technology? Maybe.

  Short of turning over either Lyncoln or myself to the drifters, I can’t think of a single thing he would do that makes sense and that scares me more than anything else.

  I’m still lying there awake when Lyncoln comes in my room to tell me goodnight, per the usual.

  “Hey,” I greet him right away.

  “You’re still awake?” he asks surprised as I reach to turn on the lamp by my bed.

  I nod, lying back down on my pillows and look to the ceiling for answers. “I keep thinking about Hadenfelt and what sort of deal he would have made.”

  He sits on the couch pulling his tie loose as he rests his elbows on his knees and nods, “I’ve been doing the same thing myself.”

  “Any ideas?” I ask.

  “Not any that I would want to repeat,” he says grimly.

  Okay, so he also thinks Hadenfelt will make a move on one or both of us too. I sigh.

  “Taggert is demanding I stay over here and not go over to DIA anymore for a while,” he offers, looking a bit subdued.

  I know the real reason why, but I pretend to be surprised. “Why?”

  “Safety precaution.” He shrugs.

  “Are you okay with that?” I ask even though it’s a stupid question. I know he isn’t. Asking Lyncoln to sit on his hands and do nothing while something needs to be done is like slowly torturing the man.

  He lets out a slow sigh. “I guess. I mean, I get it. Langly is going to be the go-between and my eyes and ears. Fill me in on everything so I’m stil
l in the know. Taggert pointed out the best way to beat and find Hadenfelt is to win the presidency. Once we win, he no longer has a shot at gaining a position of more power. He will do something stupid out of anger in retaliation, and we will have him. If we were to win, it’s over. He’s just done.”

  I nod. “Makes sense. Only eleven days to that next vote, too.”

  He smiles at me affectionately. “And fortunately for me, I picked a damn fine woman who will win it for me.” He looks at me a moment and then adds as an afterthought, “I’m sorry our wedding will have to be planned by Dougall and Elle.”

  I smile. “Could be worse. Ashton could be planning it.” I stop to snort out a laugh. “I would like to just fast forward these next eleven days. Somehow find Hadenfelt. Somehow win. Marry you and start our lives together by ending this ongoing war with the drifters.”

  He grins and asks sarcastically, “Oh, is that all?”

  I blush and unfortunately know I have to explain why or he will assume the worst. “I’m looking forward to getting to sleep with you every night too. I sleep so much better when you’re here.”

  He nods, his eyes going predatory. “Right back at you, babe.”

  I climb out of bed and onto his lap, again just wanting to be closer to him.

  “You do know that just because we get married, it doesn’t mean we have to dive right into the marital activities, right?” he asks hesitantly.

  “What?” I ask surprised and look up at him. That is not where I thought this conversation was going at all. I was ready for a hot and heavy smooch fest.

  “I told you before, we will do it when you’re ready. This is all happening very fast for you and the last thing I want is for you to roll in the hay with me before you’re ready because the government forced us to get married on a day of their choosing. I want you to choose when that happens. It will be on your terms, your schedule, when you are sure you’re good and ready. No rush. No regrets,” he explains while running his fingers through my hair.