The Letting

by Cathrine Goldstein

  Phoenix notices our descent first, and I only know it’s happening because I read it on his face. He sits up straight and wears a grim expression. I can feel our drop now, and the girls also seem to understand what’s happening. They begin to get nervous but try to calm themselves.

  The cab of the helicopter grows very quiet as we all strain to see what we can make out on the ground below. I fight to see something, anything familiar, but of course, I won’t recognize anything from up here. Closer and closer, we draw toward the ground, and then I see the familiar white building. It sickens me. I feel light-headed, and a cold sweat breaks out across my forehead as I stare at the building.

  What have I done? How many girls have I delivered to this very building? Girls who were simply exterminated when they were no longer useful? I feel the bile churn in my stomach and cramps form on the sides of my abdomen. I look at Phoenix. What am I doing? Why should I deserve to be happy after what I’ve done? What I’ve been responsible for?

  Luckily Phoenix reads my expression, and he hands me a bag just before I vomit. He gives me a small bottle of water to rinse my mouth. He looks at me, and this time it’s a look of sympathy.

  I don’t deserve it. No more. I cannot stand back and let Phoenix take the lead any longer. I am responsible for so many atrocious acts. I must be held accountable…if only to myself.

  The way Phoenix looks at me, attentive and curious, I know he can tell I have gone somewhere without him. He shakes his head, but it’s no use. We touch ground, and I know I must do this alone.

  They cut the engine.

  “Whatever happens,” I say hurriedly. “Take care of the girls.”

  “We’re in this together.” His voice is strong and powerful.

  “No.” I shake my head. “As much as I wish that were true. I know I can never make amends for what I’ve done, but I have to try.”

  “By killing yourself?” He raises his voice and the vibration feels like the helicopter engine.

  Lilly looks up at me with frightened eyes. I stroke her hair and speak in a calming voice. “I don’t know how. But I have to try.”

  “We can change the world by stopping Farnsworth.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Were you planning this all along?” His eyes are sharp and intense. “Did you outsmart me? Did you only get me here to watch the girls? Were you planning to give yourself up from the start?”

  “No.” I search his eyes. “At least, I don’t think so. I can’t imagine me ever being able to outsmart you.”

  “Don’t fool yourself, Ronnie. You are a very bright young woman.”

  I smile at him. There’s no way he could know how much that compliment means to me.

  “So what’s the plan?” he asks me, only half-joking.

  “Like you said, we came by helicopter because it’s an urgent situation. To stay alive I have to get past the testing station. If, by some miracle I’ve been cleared, they’ll prep me and Let me immediately.”

  The girls snuggle up tightly against me, and I remember I have to be careful of what I say. “After that, they’ll either keep me around for another Letting, or they won’t.” I allow the reality to sink in. “If they don’t, that’s how it’s meant to be, and you do whatever it takes to get these girls to a safe place.”

  He looks away and then at me, fervently. He nods.

  “And if they do Let me and decide to keep me around, I will find my girls.” Emotion overwhelms me.

  “And I will find you,” he promises, his eyes locked on me. I shake my head no, yet his words make me feel safe and protected.

  “What’s the next step for you?” I ask. My throat aches from the tears I’m fighting.

  “You’ve already gotten me farther than I ever imagined.”

  “Assassinating Farnsworth won’t do anything. You’ll be arrested and killed. And that won’t accomplish anything.” I say these words deliberately, making sure he understands he cannot sacrifice himself like this. “Farnsworth needs to disappear quietly.”

  “But you know that can’t happen,” Phoenix argues. “He’s too well guarded. And loved.”

  I nod.

  “Then you’ll need to go public. You’ll need to tell people in the Inferno what you’re doing. And you’ll need to get them to believe you.”

  “I know.” He looks out the window, thoughtfully, and then back at me. “That’s the part I haven’t quite worked out.”

  We exchange a small smile, both of us knowing this may very well be the last time we ever see each other.

  Harvesters and people in white coats begin running toward the helicopter, and my heart sinks.

  Phoenix reaches out and grabs my hand. “For what it’s worth, I don’t know I would have done anything differently if I were in your place.”

  I gasp, tears of relief bursting into my eyes. Spontaneously, I lean forward and kiss him. He reaches up and grabs the back of my head. He pulls me toward him, and kisses me, long and hard. It is such a taboo move, we could only risk it because we’re skirting death.

  When we finally pull apart, I speak, hurriedly. “They’ll take us to type us and authenticate our blood first thing. If I’m cleared, they’ll walk me through that double front door. More than likely, I won’t, and they’ll bring me to a waiting truck, over there.” I point to a field behind him. “If you see me head to that truck, you know it’s over for me. Please get the girls to safety before you do anything else—”

  “No. I’ll follow the truck.”

  “And then you’ll be shot, and we’ll both be dead. And who’s going to look after the girls?” My heart pounds.

  He knows I’m right because he can’t look at me.

  “Can you promise me?” I ask. “Can you promise me you’ll just let me go?”

  “No.” He looks straight at me. “But I will promise not to follow the truck.”

  I understand him completely, and I smile at him. He smiles back just as the helicopter door is flung open.

  Chapter Twelve

  I wish they would just leave me alone. Ever since my blood has been cleared at the check point, I have had a bevy of attendants doing nothing but working on me and my veins. As I lie here with them massaging my neck and pushing against my veins, I wonder how it is even possible my blood cleared. I was checked before I blossomed, and my blood registered toxic and unusable. Can blood change after a blossoming?

  I’m wearing a white paper gown that is much too short on me, and I shiver in the cold, sterile room. Camp isn’t exactly one of the palaces people tell me exist in the Inferno, but at least most everything at camp is green, and it’s blooming with nature and life. This room has white walls, a white ceiling, and a hard, gray floor. It’s empty except for the table I’m lying on, several small collection bins lined up on a steel cart with rolling wheels, and a large machine, that is the focus of the room. The machine has a confusing number of buttons and knobs, and several tubes extending out from its front. I know what those tubes are for, and I can barely look at them. Then I remember Gretchen’s warnings of multiple draw sites, and I cringe. I squeeze the rubber balls they’ve placed in my hands harder, and I wonder how many tubes will be attached to me and how much blood they’ll decide to take. It doesn’t matter. They should take it all. My heart falls when I think of how many tiny girls I sent to this fate, and how terrified they must have been to have any one of those tubes sucking the blood out of their tiny bodies, let alone several tubes at once. I think of Lilly, Violet, and Raven somewhere in another room, and I wonder if they are going through the same thing right now. If they are, I pray at least they are together. My primary concern is Lilly, who is not physically big enough to Let, yet in my gut, I believe they’ll do it anyway.

  Someone pushes hard against a vein above my collarbone and I gasp. It’s not that anything is really painful right now. It’s the anticipation of what’s to come that is terrifying. This would be so much easier if I still believed this was my patriotic duty, and I was performing an act that coul
d help my country. I sigh, disgusted with myself and my gullibility. How could I have believed their lies for so long? My mind wanders to Phoenix. Why didn’t he stop me sooner? And what did he mean there was a reason he never wanted to meet me? What was it?

  The Lettors must have made their decision because they remove the balls from my hands and stop prodding me. For a moment, they leave me alone and become very busy with the knobs and buttons on the machine. One of them places tiny, sticky pads with long thin wire tails onto various parts of my body: my heart, my collarbone, my stomach, my arms, my inner thighs, and the tops of my feet. Those long tails are attached to a small machine next to the head of my bed. They flip a switch on the machine, and I brace myself, expecting to feel an electric current. Or worse. But I feel nothing. I turn my head slightly and see a screen flashing with what looks like spikes on a graph. I realize the spikes are in time with my heartbeat. I take a deep breath and relax slightly. If they are concerned with my heartbeat, they must be planning to keep me alive. My survival instinct is happy, but my guilty conscience prefers this would just end.

  Next, I feel something cold and wet on the inside of both my arms and the top of my right foot. I recognize the smell, and I realize they must be cleaning the draw sites with alcohol. The coward in me relaxes with the thought of only three spots. They are going to draw from only three spots. This is okay. I can handle three. It could be so much worse. With every movement they make, I realize my survival instinct is much stronger than I ever imagined. Of course, I want to live, but do I deserve to?

  I overhear one Lettor telling another my veins are good and strong. There is some general murmuring among them, but most seem completely disinterested in me. Then, for some reason, I hear a voice that grabs my attention, and I turn my head to see one of the Lettors speaking into a box on the wall. He holds up his hand to silence the other Lettors, and the room grows very still.

  “Are you sure?” the speaking Lettor asks. He turns away from the wall and addresses the other Lettors. “He’s coming,” he proclaims with complete disbelief in his voice. “Farnsworth. Here. Now. He wants to meet her.”

  The Lettors are suddenly frozen. Something in what this one speaking Lettor has said paralyzes the rest of them. Only one moves. A young female Lettor turns to me with a look that is a combination of awe and respect.

  “Well don’t just stand there,” the speaking Lettor snaps. “Let’s look alive.”

  I cringe at his words.

  Suddenly, there is an unexpected buzzing in the room. Lettors begin moving machines and polishing metal. Some open cabinets. One of the Lettors runs to me and places a small, soft pillow beneath my head. I never even knew they had pillows in these rooms. Why wouldn’t they have used one before? I am still shivering in the cold, so someone tosses a soft white blanket over me. Immediately, I grow warmer. Someone else places a silver reflecting blanket on top of that and my chills disappear. Within minutes, I begin to perspire under the blankets, but I don’t dare move. Then it all stops as quickly as it started, and the Lettors line up along the far wall opposite the door. They stand, their stiff bodies held straight from head to foot. Moments later, the door to my room is pushed open and three people enter, each dressed in black. One is a woman carrying a clipboard, and the two others are very tall men, both wearing dark glasses.

  The men take a sweep around the room and one says only: “All clear.”

  My breath is hurried. I cannot believe I am actually meeting Farnsworth. I’ve never even seen a picture of him. Many of us outside the Inferno have no idea what he looks like. He is known for using a large voice but a small presence. The woman walks out of my room and comes back in, pushing a young man in a wheelchair. I gasp, startled, finding it hard to believe this is Farnsworth. Similarly, he seems to do a double take when he sees me.

  “You must be the great Veronica Billings,” he muses, smiling at me. “May I say the picture I have of you does not do you justice.”

  I wonder how he is able to overlook my facial bruising, that is still so obvious. His smile catches me off-guard, but I offer a small smile back. I can’t seem to force my eyes away from him. I have never before seen teeth so white. I am incredibly awkward lying on the cold steel bed, but I am wearing a short, flimsy gown and I don’t want to risk standing. Besides, I’m still attached to the sticky pads and wires. I’m not sure of what to do, and I think he can sense it.

  “You needn’t get up.” He speaks softly. “What you are doing for me now is more than generous. It would be impossible to show me any greater respect than by what you’re doing here.”

  I nod, completely confused. He speaks as if this, any of this, was a choice. One of the Lettors coughs, and I believe it’s a prompt for me.

  “It’s my honor, sir,” I eke out, forcing down a nauseating feeling gnawing at my stomach. I am eternally grateful Phoenix is not here to witness this interaction. Farnsworth smiles generously at me then he turns to the woman behind him and says something I cannot hear. She wheels him forward, closer to my bedside. I turn my head in his direction and there is an immediate intimacy between us I detest. He sits for whole moments, staring at me. I steal a look at him as well, and I am so very surprised by what I see. For one, he is so much younger than I imagined. He’s older than me or Phoenix, but he’s certainly not past his mid-twenties. For another, he doesn’t look like the slimy lizard I expected. In fact, I wouldn’t say he’s handsome, but he’s very “pretty.” His hair is blond and fairly long with light highlights, and it frames his face just right. His cheekbones are slight but well-shaped, his eyes are small and hazel, and his chin is nearly as smooth as mine. It’s hard to believe he is the same gender as Phoenix; Phoenix with his twelve-hour-old scruff that scratches my chin when he kisses me. Ah, Phoenix. Just the thought of him makes my cheeks flush and I’m certain Farnsworth thinks my blush is for him. Farnsworth smiles again and lifts his arm to scratch a spot on his hairless chin. I am fascinated by Farnsworth’s femininity. I know he could never shave; it would be much too dangerous for him. So he must be naturally hairless. Looking him over again, I believe it. Yes, I was right. He is definitely more pretty than he is handsome.

  “Veronica.” He speaks in a voice made more for whispering into a lover’s ear than it was to bark commands. “How can I ever thank you?” I stare at him long and hard.

  How about you stop killing children? is all I can think. But I can’t bring myself to say it. He smiles again and it turns my stomach. How can someone so innocent looking be responsible for such atrocities? This man, a man confined to a wheelchair, so soft spoken and polite, this is the cold-blooded killer Phoenix has warned me about? Is Phoenix certain? Of course he is. I shake my head to stay focused. I may not know a lot of things, but I am sure in the case of Farnsworth, looks can be deceiving.

  “It is my patriotic duty, sir,” I whisper. “And I am grateful to assist in any way possible.”

  “Ah yes.” He sits back. “The unshakable Veronica Billings. Even facing a fate that would scare most young women, you are forever gracious and proper.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I choke back my hatred. “But I have sent hundreds of young women, many several years younger than me, all to this Letting facility. What kind of a hypocrite would I be if I was scared? After all of the reassurance I’ve given them?” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and then focuses on the floor for a moment. He nods.

  “But still.” He looks back at me, his smile plastic, his voice flowing like honey. “Confined to a camp as you’ve been for these past seven years, you must have heard some rumors, fairytales even, about our facility here?” It is obvious he wants to know what I know. I am also painfully aware that the machine tracking the rhythm of my heartbeat is right at Farnsworth’s side. One lie or case of the nerves will be obviously detected. I take a deep breath and calm my breathing. I close my eyes and consciously slow my heart rate.

  “No sir,” I lie. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard anything that would make me scared
of this facility.”

  “Good.” He sits back, obviously happy with the result of my heart rate monitor. “Now one day I hope you won’t be nervous around me either.”

  “Yes sir, thank you.” Nervous? That doesn’t even begin to cover it. A nurse in a white uniform walks into our room and over to Farnsworth.

  “Sir?” she interrupts. “It’s really time. We need the transfusion now.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Farnsworth’s eyes find their way to her. The woman who accompanies him starts to push his chair away. “Stop, please,” Farnsworth commands and she does. He cranes his head to look at me. “I thank you, Ms. Billings, for what you are about to do. When you are through and recovered, I would like to thank you personally.”

  “There’s no need—” I begin to say, but he stops me.

  “There is every need.” He smiles a wide, unnerving smile. “You’ll come to dinner at my house as my guest.”

  “Thank you, sir…” I begin but again I cannot finish a sentence.

  “I’m not asking, Ms. Billings.” He is still smiling but something in the way he speaks sends a shiver down my spine. “I need to at least attempt to thank you for your years of service to the government and now your service to me.” He pauses for a moment then he speaks very slowly and clearly. “Ms. Billings, no matter what else, from this moment on, you and I are more than connected. You and I are one.”

  “How’s that sir?” I ask, my voice weak and hoarse.

  “Your life, the very essence of you, Veronica, will be running inside of me. I will know what you think, what you feel and whom you love because I will be you. Now and forever more.” He smiles and this time his smile is distorted and snakelike. My body begins to shake violently.

  “Yes sir,” I manage to squeak out, the bile turning in my stomach. Farnsworth and I are connected? Forever? How could that be possible? I look at the door to see if I can escape, but I know the answer. There is no way possible. Within the matter of an hour or less, my blood will be poured into a man made of pure evil. I feel my heart rate get away from me, and at once, all of the Lettors turn to face the heart rate monitor.