The Choosing

by Rachelle Dekker

  Praise be.

  30

  Carrington had started the day with tears. It had happened suddenly, when she woke up and realized what today was. She lay back down against her pillow and wished that she’d never awakened at all, that she had accidentally slept through the entire day and that now it was dark. But her mother’s knock on the door reminding her to get up shattered any fantasy that had been brewing. That’s when the tears had come. Today Arianna Carson was going to be executed.

  It was to be a public execution, which meant that at noon all citizens would be required to be in their homes for the live broadcast. Carrington, however, wasn’t fortunate enough to get to watch it from the safety of her home. Isaac had insisted she be present with him at the execution site. This brought another round of tears. Not only was she going to have to watch an innocent girl die, she was going to have to do so up close.

  She knew Isaac was only making her come because of the way she had defended Arianna the last time they had been together. This was his sick way of punishing her for having sympathy for a girl he’d clearly convinced the Authority was dangerous enough to be killed. It made her hate him. Not just fear him but hate him.

  It took Carrington twice as long as usual to get ready. Every movement seemed to require extra effort—dragging herself out of bed, taking a shower, brushing her hair, dressing, looking at her face in the mirror. Normal routines that were part of muscle memory felt weighted and tense. She felt as though she were stuck in a pool of butter up to her waist, and just putting one foot in front of the other required all her strength.

  By the time she managed to get downstairs her mother was cleaning up from breakfast.

  “I saved some for you,” her mother said, sliding a plate toward her.

  Carrington glanced at the food and felt her stomach roll in disgust. “I’m not really hungry.”

  Her mother’s eyes were filled with pity and she nodded, scooping up the plate and placing it with the other dirty dishes. Carrington sat at the table, not because she wanted to interact with her mother but because her knees had started knocking together in a way that threatened her ability to stand.

  “You should at least drink some juice,” her mother said. She set a small glass before her and Carrington stared into it. Small bubbles swirled in the center and popped one at a time.

  “Do you want to talk about this?” her mother asked.

  “No,” Carrington said.

  Her mother rubbed her lips together and turned back to the sink. The house was silent. Her father had gone to work and Warren had an early practicing lesson since he was required to be home in time for the execution. Carrington sipped the juice and felt the cold liquid run down her dry throat. She had always loved the sweet flavor, but today it tasted sour.

  “I made a list of things we still need to discuss concerning the wedding,” her mother said. “It’ll be here before you know it.”

  Carrington felt a sudden urge to hurl the cup in her hand at the back of her mother’s head.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Carrington said.

  “You never do, but time isn’t going to slow down. . . .”

  “An innocent girl is being murdered today and you want to talk about my wedding?”

  “She is not innocent. If she was, today wouldn’t represent what it does.”

  “You didn’t even know her!”

  “I know that the Authority decided her fate and that’s enough for me.”

  “So you’re okay with this?”

  Her mother dropped the pan she had been scrubbing into the sink and the sound echoed through the kitchen. “What I think doesn’t matter.”

  “And that’s enough for you? To blindly follow the Authority while they murder an innocent girl?”

  “Stop saying she’s innocent and stop calling it murder! This is the result of her own choices and nothing else.”

  Carrington bit her tongue and pushed herself up from the table.

  “Where are you going?” her mother asked.

  “To get some fresh air.” Carrington didn’t stop to hear her mother’s response. She pushed out through the front door and quickly cut across the front yard toward the back of the house.

  Her family had been lucky getting a house that was located at the end of the neighborhood. It meant the woods that stretched behind the housing complex came up to meet her backyard. Even though her mother had never allowed her to explore the dense forest, the smell of pine and the songs of nesting birds were enough to make the backyard feel a bit magical.

  She came up to the line where their property met the trees and paused for only a second before stepping across into the rising grass. The tall blades brushed against her legs and the hem of her dress as she moved deeper into the tree covering and out of the beaming sunlight. She paused and struggled to catch her breath and steady her pulse. Her anger was a beast roaring in her chest, scratching at the inside, desperate to come out.

  Carrington stopped in a small clearing and searched with her eyes. She felt violent, like she might actually find something that could save Arianna, something that could save her. But the clearing before her was filled only with rocks, downed trees, fallen leaves, and bare branches. Everything around her was dying, as Arianna was dying, as her own hope was dying. She might as well add herself to that list, because when her mother had brought up her wedding she wished for a moment that she too were dead.

  This was what she had finally come to—morbid thoughts and pathetic fantasies that the inevitable could be changed. Arianna had acted on those fantasies and she was going to pay for it with her life.

  “Please,” she whispered, “save her.” She wasn’t sure whom she was asking, but that didn’t stop her from trying. “She’s in this place because of You. Be as powerful as she claimed You were and stop this!” Her volume was higher, and a tremor had started in her hand. Her chest was rising and falling in rapid motion.

  “Do You even exist? Or were You just a figment of our imaginations? She can’t really be dying; she can’t!”

  Carrington dropped to her knees. They landed hard with a crunch and she barely registered the pain among the numbing desperation growing in her gut. She knew that no one was listening to her cries; no one could swoop in and save the day.

  Arianna was going to die and Carrington was going to get a front-row seat. She dropped her head into her hands and wept.

  The room was small, only large enough for a couple dozen people. Nearly all of the available seats were filled. Carrington was escorted to an open seat beside Isaac, who, she could see, was working hard not to look as if they were gathering for a celebration. He rose to greet her and placed a kiss on her cheek before sitting back in his seat. The mark he’d left with his hand stung under his kiss and Carrington hid her disgust.

  She sat beside him and saw the rest of the room in front of her. Before the rows of chairs was a long table standing on end with restraints hanging off each side. Black cameras stood around the room, their task to capture the nauseating event so the entire community could watch. A single machine that Carrington recognized from the one time she’d been to the hospital stood near the top of the table, a thin clear tube curled at its side. Both the machine and the restraining table were a sterile white, emanating a coldness that made Carrington shiver.

  Everyone in the room was quiet; those who spoke did so in very hushed tones. Carrington saw the Carson family sitting in a different pocket of seats to her right. Mrs. Carson and her two other girls—Arianna’s younger sisters—huddled together, hiding each other’s faces. President Carson was ghostly. Carrington half expected him to float out of his chair and through the wall, he looked so frail and pasty. The law requiring them to be present added another layer of cruelty.

  Carrington tried to find any other face in the crowd that looked mournful, but mostly she found smugness. The Authority members were quite pleased with their choice. It made her sick. Then her eyes stopped on a tough-looking man—his whiskers sc
ruffy, a cigarette stuck between his lips. Two CityWatch guards stood with him, one on either side. She saw sadness in the edges of his expression, his eyes avoiding the table and the other faces in the room. Carrington wanted to believe that this man, at least, had fought for Arianna, and from the look on his face it wasn’t that much of a stretch.

  She let her eyes linger on the man a moment longer and when he took a step backward, the face of one of his CityWatch guards flashed into view. Remko. Carrington’s entire body froze. She told her eyes to pull away, but they wouldn’t obey. She watched as Remko felt her glance and started when he saw that it was hers. The two remained suspended in time, Carrington sitting beside Isaac, Remko standing with his men, both of them unable to detach from one another.

  “I think, in all fairness, I should recognize that this may be difficult for you,” Isaac said.

  His words broke the hold Remko had over her and she turned to acknowledge her future husband. The look she gave him must have been one of confusion because he lowered his voice and continued.

  “Being here to see this—I know it can’t be easy.”

  Carrington understood and nodded.

  “You must think I am cruel for asking you to come.”

  Carrington wasn’t sure how to answer, and her mind was spinning so violently with images of Remko that she was hardly digesting his words.

  “I don’t mean to be insensitive. I just felt it would be good for you to have closure.”

  Isaac turned away from her and she waited to make sure he was finished. She stole a glance back to where Remko had been standing and found that he was no longer there.

  A heavy door to her left creaked and grabbed the room’s attention. A single CityWatch guard pushed the door open while two others escorted a slight figure through the open space and toward the table. She was dressed in prisoner clothes with a black bag pulled down over her head. A doctor in a white coat followed, holding a small silver box in his hand.

  All thoughts of Remko vanished at the sight of Arianna. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath until a small cry came from one of the younger Carson girls and the room shifted. People moved awkwardly in their seats, keeping their eyes on the crew of guards as they began strapping Arianna to the table.

  One of the guards yanked the black bag off Arianna’s head. Her gold hair fell loose around her shoulders. Carrington couldn’t see her face clearly from where she sat, but she could imagine the fear she must be feeling. Carrington gripped her hands together tightly in her lap and fought back a rush of tears.

  A man sitting in the front row—Carrington knew he was an Authority member from a picture she’d seen—stood and half turned to address the room while still keeping his attention focused toward Arianna.

  “Today we are to serve as witnesses to the execution of Arianna Carson. A trial was held and the sentence was agreed upon by the Authority Council.” The man paused and took a deep breath. “Under Authority law the prisoner is allowed to make a final statement if desired. Arianna Carson requested to do so and will address us now.”

  The man sat back down and all eyes turned toward Arianna. She was searching the crowd with her eyes, seeming to stop for a moment on each face. When she reached Carrington she lingered a moment longer and gave her a smile.

  “I just want to say something to my sisters,” Arianna said and turned to face them. “I’m sorry you don’t understand this, and I know how hard it will be to grasp, but know that you are more than they say. You are perfect, and I love you.” Tears choked out the end of Arianna’s words and the man in the front row stood again.

  “As witnesses to this event, let the entire community see firsthand the serious consequences of breaking Authority law.” He sat down and wiped sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief from his front pocket.

  With that, the guards tilted the table backward. Carrington saw a tear slide down the side of Arianna’s face. Desperation pounded inside her skull and moved throughout her body. This wasn’t right.

  The doctor stepped up and worked with the long clear tube that was wrapped around the standing machine. Within moments he lodged the needle deep inside Arianna’s arm and turned the monitor on. It beeped softly, displaying images Carrington didn’t understand. She kept her eyes on Arianna’s face and felt tears drip off her chin.

  Arianna looked afraid, and then she closed her eyes and moved her lips to say something no one in the audience heard, and when she opened her eyes, the fear had softened. Even now, in the face of death, Arianna looked bright, as though there was a fire inside her that was showing through.

  The doctor held a long syringe in his hand and with a final breath he injected the contents into the tube that ran down to Arianna’s arm. They were poisoning her.

  Carrington’s entire body shook, and she struggled with a wave of nausea. This wasn’t right; this wasn’t right. That girl was going to die while the people in this room just sat like wax figures and watched. Carrington’s logic tried to override her ill-advised impulse to jump up, but it was failing.

  Before her better judgment could stop her, she was standing, moving. She took two steps before a hand caught her shoulder and held her steady. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Arianna as the beeping on the machine slowed, and the rising and falling of her chest lessened.

  “No,” Carrington said. She breathed more than spoke it, and no one heard her.

  With a final breath Arianna closed her eyes and died.

  31

  Her body just lay there for a long moment. No one breathed, no one spoke, no one moved. The universe felt as still as the lifeless girl. Then the doctor pulled a long white sheet up over Arianna’s bloodless face, propelling the universe back into motion. People moved, slowly but with purpose, clearing the room.

  Carrington stood with her eyes fixed on the sheet-covered corpse. A hand still rested on her shoulder, but the pressure eased and then lifted, leaving her feeling naked and alone with a dead girl. She could still see Arianna’s last breath, still hear her voice in her head, still picture the way she’d walked into the room. It was as if Carrington could close her eyes, hold them tight, and when she opened them again Arianna would still be there.

  Another hand grabbed her arm, but different from the first—hard and cold, full of force. It yanked her away from the sheet-outlined figure and toward the exit. The person connected to the hand was angry, and as the memories from the last few moments registered in Carrington’s brain, she knew it was Isaac.

  He led her out into the sun, where the beams of light blasted her face and caused her eyes pain. She squinted against their power as she was hauled into a vehicle to be transported away. Isaac joined her in the car, which meant she was not being taken back to her house.

  Half of her mind was computing each moment, while the other half was stuck in that room, numb and dead with Arianna. Isaac was angry with her and taking her back to his place. Arianna was dead. Carrington had no say in anything that happened in her life. Arianna was dead. He yanked her around like a doll. Arianna was dead.

  By the time they reached Isaac’s home, her thoughts were mostly reengaged, and fear for her own safety was in full swing. Isaac had said nothing to her the entire ride, but she could feel his fury oozing through his skin like an odor. He moved out of the car and strode across the lawn to his front door with fierce movements. Carrington was escorted behind him as though she might take off running, which was exactly what her head was screaming at her to do.

  Once inside the house, Isaac nodded, releasing anyone who might have served as a witness, and a bottomless pit opened in Carrington’s gut. He paced back and forth in small, jagged steps, not walking too far in either direction before spinning around and heading back the way he had come.

  Finally he stopped and stood firm, grounded like a foundation, facing her. He ran his palm across his skull and exhaled, hissing through his teeth. “Do you think me a fool?”

  She struggled to find her voice and her hesitation
cost her. His hand came across her already-bruised cheek and sent her head careening to the side. She stumbled into a tall hallway table that kept her standing.

  “Do . . . you . . . think . . . me . . . a fool?”

  “No.” Her eyes stung with tears from the intensifying throbbing in her face.

  “Do you think I should have chosen someone else?”

  “No.”

  “Why then do you continue to dishonor me?”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Shut up! It is bad enough that you feel such pity for that worthless traitor we just executed, but to move to defend her in the presence of the other council members!”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why—”

  “I know why, dear.” His voice fell into an eerie calm that frightened her more than his violent rage. He moved to her and wrapped his fingers around her arm. The pressure increased the longer he held her and she could feel his nails digging into her skin. “It’s because you have forgotten your place.”

  He pulled her away from the table she was using to support herself and dragged her through the house. She cried out as her right ankle crunched into the sharp wooden edge of a chair leg, but he only yanked on her harder. He opened a tall, narrow door and threw her inside. She fell hard on the floor and knocked her head against the back wall. The space was no bigger than a broom closet.

  “Look at me, Carrington. Look at me!”

  She pushed herself off the ground and turned her gaze to him. He hovered just outside the doorframe, blocking out most of the dim light.

  “I have offered you everything and you continue to defy me. Like the sinners who spit upon God, you spit upon me. Do you think you are not in need of salvation? Do you believe you are better than the rest?” He spouted accusations like a crazed man, his saliva flying through the air.

  “No!” she cried.

  “You have forgotten your worth without me. Nothing! Worthless sack of flesh that God gave to me. You are supposed to help me carry out the work of the holy mission. Do not prove yourself to be as worthless and void of righteousness as the others.”