The Culling

by Steven dos Santos

  Cypress turns away from them. Her eyes meet mine. She’s trembling—rage or pain, I can’t be sure. Tears stream down her face.

  A crushing weight squeezes all the air free of my lungs.

  I have to get out of this room.

  Nodding as politely as I can, I pull away from Mrs. Juniper. “It was a pleasure meeting you. But I really have to find my family.”

  Before she can protest, I barrel past her and push open the terrace doors with such force I can feel them rattling in their hinges.

  Under the blanket of a thousand stars, Digory leans against the railing, gazing out at the coastline that’s just beyond the entrance to Infiernos. The sparkling ocean is kissed by the shimmering rays of the full moon. Digory’s uniform seems painted on over his broad shoulders and narrow waist; his hair is combed back and glistens like spun gold.

  When he notices me, blue dawn blooms in his eyes. His mouth melts into a smile that almost blinds me with its brilliance.

  I simmer in his warmth, which is as comforting as a pot of broth on a cold wintry night.

  “You clean up nice, Recruit,” he whispers.

  “You don’t look too shabby either, Tycho,” I whisper back. “Guess you made a full recovery after our encounter with those Fleshers.”

  “Feeling much better … like I could fly right now … ”

  I chuckle. “Probably all those enhancers they loaded your blood with in the Bio-Pool.”

  He closes the gap between us. His smile disappears, replaced with a look of burning intensity, like comets ripping through the atmosphere. “I don’t think that’s the reason at all.”

  The radiance of his eyes … the moon … the stars … overwhelm my senses. I feel lightheaded. “I didn’t see you inside … was wondering where you were … ”

  “Sorry. I got tied up. My Incentive … we had a lot to talk about.”

  My eyes risk blindness and find his again. “Your family? You’ve seen them?”

  He seems surprised. “Why, yes. Haven’t you seen your brother and Mrs. Bledsoe yet?”

  The simmer in my blood starts to bubble into panic. The Warricks. The Junipers. Cypress’s twins. And now Digory. Everyone accounted for except Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe. “No. I haven’t seen either of them.” I can feel the color draining away from my face.

  “I’m sure they’re okay.” His hands grip my waist and pull me into him. “Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.”

  I nestle my head against his chest. My ears are filled with the deep sounds of our pounding hearts, beating like a hailstorm until they synch into one strong, steady rhythm.

  “I’m scared, Digory. And not just for them … the others too. Cypress, Gideon, Ophelia. I saw them inside, with their families … it hit me just how real this all is … how much they’ve all suffered … everyone … it’s just like you told me when we first met, but I was too wrapped up in my own situation to see it … it has to end … ”

  “It will. But we have to be strong.” He tilts my head up with a delicate touch of a finger on my chin. “No matter what.”

  My heartbeat ratchets ahead, leaving his trailing like its shadow. “What do you mean?”

  “Please. 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.” He pulls me close again and nuzzles his head against my collar. “Where we can pretend tomorrow is a lifetime away … ” His voice is burdened with a deep emotion that I haven’t heard before, and it makes me wonder just how much he’s been bottling up inside.

  For the first time, I feel that it’s him who needs me.

  I clasp my hands around his back. We start to sway.

  He sighs against me. “Our first dance … ” His breath is warm and soothing against my neck.

  I laugh. “All that’s missing is the music.”

  His lips graze my ear and it’s like fireflies are buzzing around my heart. “If you close your mind to everything else and listen, you can hear it.”

  My eyelids sag, giving way to the hypnotic lilt of his voice. The only time that exists is now. Nothing before, nothing after.

  Soon the night’s a symphony: our hearts beating like percussion in time with the chirping crickets, the wind whistling through the trees, the branches twanging as they bend in the wind’s wake, the pounding surf crashing onto the shore like powerful cymbals …

  We spin around the terrace, our cheeks pressed against each other, holding onto each other so tight I can’t tell where I end and he begins. Soon I’ve lost track of how much time’s passed. All I know is that I don’t want it to ever end …

  But it has to. This is much bigger than Digory and me. Bigger than our families. It’s about the right to live … the right to dream … the right to hope …

  To have a future to look forward to.

  Our dance slows to barely a sway, and finally we’re just standing still. When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me, his face a mask of sadness as if he’s read my mind. We stay like that for a few minutes, drinking each other in like men dying of thirst, not knowing when or if another sip will ever come.

  He caresses my cheek. “Thank you.”

  “What’re you doing out here with me? Shouldn’t you be inside with your family?”

  Now it’s him that looks away. “I needed a few minutes to myself. To clear my head.” His eyes connect with mine again. “There’s so much I wanted to say to you … I needed to say to you … before … ”

  “Before what?”

  “Before the Trials.”

  My blood cools to lukewarm. All this time Digory’s avoided talking about his family, who his Incentives even are, although he risked everything in being open with me about his involvement with the resistance—to the point where it put him in this mess right alongside me. My muscles twitch. As curious as I am to know what he’s been holding back, there’s a part of me that’s afraid to know what secret could possibly be darker than treason against the Establishment. I’m not sure I can handle whatever it is he has to say, especially when I’m running out of things and people to believe in.

  His fingers interlace with mine and he leans in close. “You’re going to hear certain things tonight, but you have to trust me.”

  The sound of my heart spatters through my ears like raindrops kerplunking off the gutters back home. Every second of wondering is a prolonged agony.

  “Just tell me,” I whisper.

  The doors to the terrace burst open. “You two. Get inside,” Slade grumbles from the threshold. “Ceremony’s about to start.”

  “But I haven’t seen my brother or Mrs. Bledsoe yet.” I take a step toward her. “Where are they?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” She avoids my gaze, fixing her eyes on Digory instead. “Your husband’s been looking for you.” Then she pivots on her boots and disappears inside.

  Husband?

  twenty-one

  Digory has someone already? Of course he does. Yet how could he let me think … make me feel … ? You’d think after everything that’s happened, I’d be numb to anything else by now. But between my missing family and this latest reveal, why does it feel like my heart’s been shoved into a grinder and sliced into thousands of bloody clumps?

  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 gestur
es 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 …