The Elect: Malevolent, a Dystopian Novel

by Ward, Tamryn

  It feels strong.

  I knot the bottom end, for a footrest, and step back. There’s only one way to make sure it’s safe.

  I sail across the chasm and drop on the opposite side. Then I wave over the next person. Claire goes second. I help her land, steadying her as she tries not to put pressure on her bad ankle. Mattie is next. Within minutes everyone is safely across, including Jay. The other recruits all look at me as they land. Something has changed. Their gazes aren’t quite as cold or judging now. I think this hick has earned their respect.

  Jay and I help support Claire as we continue on, arms wrapped around her waist as she hops. I am smiling. I saw the most horrific thing earlier today, a boy fall to his death. And tonight has been hard. And scary.

  But overall it’s been a good day. Very good.

  Chapter 8

  I miss home already. I miss my parents.

  But that’s not all. I miss the sounds of birdcall. I miss the smell of damp earth and green grass. I miss the feel of a gentle summer breeze combing through my hair. I miss the warm kiss of the sun on my face.

  Our new home is a massive concrete and steel fortress. I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose. We are preparing to fight rebels, an enemy that has eyes everywhere. Living in a building with wide windows would be stupid.

  Stupid, but so much better.

  Our new home is dark inside and very different from where I grew up. I can tell already and we have just arrived.

  But there is one bright side. Only one.

  Him. Jay. There is something special about him. As we’d helped Claire hobble the rest of the way to our new home, I’d gotten a glimpse of his personality. He’s strong. He’s a little quiet and mysterious, but that just makes him more interesting. But he’s also thoughtful and kind. I like him. More than I should. More than I thought I would like another guy, considering how I felt—how I feel—about Sam.

  I glance his way.

  At the moment Jay is talking to another guy who appears to be about the same age as him. Jay’s expression is dark. He shakes his head, jerks a thumb in our direction, and walks away. The other guy glares at him.

  Are they arguing? I wonder why.

  “Hello recruits,” Jay says as we gather in the wide open space at the bottom of the staircase. “Welcome to your home for the next few weeks. Tomorrow you will start your first of three phases of training. As I told you before, not all of you will make it through training. And of those who do, only the top three will have their choice of positions within the agency. The others will be assigned duties.

  All around me, my fellow recruits whisper to each other. I hadn’t expected to be competing against them. From the bits and pieces I’m catching of the others’ conversations, I’m gathering they didn’t either. Now it isn’t just about surviving our training and helping each other. It’s about being on top. That puts a whole new spin on things. One I don’t like.

  I glance at the boy to my left. He’s taller than me by at least a foot. And his arms are muscular. I ran faster than him, but if it came down to a test of strength, I would lose by a mile.

  Next to him is Alice. She isn’t the fastest runner either. But she’s smart and strong. And there is Mattie. She struggles when it comes to the physical stuff, but she knows computers. Her father even taught her some computer programming. And then there are all the other kids. I need to be better than nine of them.

  Crap, it’s hopeless.

  Then again, I know Mattie can’t run. And I can. If I’m able to compensate for my weaknesses with strengths that the others don’t have, maybe I’ll have a chance. Maybe being a hick will give me more than one advantage.

  Maybe.

  We still don’t know what kind of training we’ll be facing—physical or mental.

  “Follow me,” Jay says as he opens a door at the far end of the area. We travel through a maze of dark, narrow tunnels. The ceilings are sloped, and it feels like we are descending lower, lower, into the bowels of the earth. Lanterns punch weak yellow holes in the darkness every twenty feet or so. Between gold areas are stretches of thick blackness. As we weave up and down, right and left, I see more of the same, branching off the corridors we take. I hope that everywhere we need to be will be close. I can’t imagine finding my way around this maze on my own. It’s like a groundhog’s den.

  We stop in a big, open room with a soaring ceiling and white-tiled walls. After being in such dark, confined spaces, it feels bright and open. I smell food. Long tables with benches attached fill half the area. People, all of them wearing black shirts and pants, are laughing, talking, eating. Silverware clatters. No one looks our way as our group stands there, watching, like a line of tourists. “This is the cafeteria. It’s open around the clock.” Our guide leads us down another corridor. At an intersection, he points. “This is the recruits’ dorm room. We’ll come back this way when we’re done. Follow me.” We continue down the same tunnel, stopping at the end. There, a room about twice the size of the cafeteria is packed with strange-looking machines. Most of them have cables attached to flat plates. People are standing or sitting near them, pulling, pushing, straining. Their faces are red, teeth gritted, muscles tense.

  Jay tells us, “This is the gym. You are free to use it whenever you are not in class.”

  A gym? This is nothing like the gym we had in our school. It was a wide-open space with a polished wood floor.

  We move on. Our next stop is in an even larger room. This one is filled with desks. And on each desk is a glowing screen. People sit at the desks, staring at the screens, fingers tapping what look like small, flat typewriters.

  I’ve seen pictures of these machines in books. They’re computers.

  Oh. My. God.

  I inch closer to a desk and look over the shoulder of a woman working nearby. The white screen seems lit from behind. Black type runs in strings across the page. I try to read the writing but it’s gibberish.

  “This is our computer lab, where we study and practice programming,” Jay tells us.

  If I have to learn programming to pass initiation, I am doomed.

  The doors behind us open. I hear the squeak of a hinge. All the tap-tap-tapping stops. The room falls silent. And every head turns our way.

  Someone nudges me and I step aside, glancing over my shoulder.

  I recognize the young man standing inside doorway. It’s the one who was talking to Jay. Up close I realize there is something about him that makes me uneasy. He isn’t particularly scary-looking. Some might even call him handsome. His blond hair is cut shorter than I like, cropped close to his head. His jaw is strong, cheekbones carved with sharp edges. His eyes pale blue-gray. A neatly-trimmed beard covers his chin. Everything about him is very cold and hard. His icy gaze sweeps the room.

  “Jay,” he says as he walks past us. “Would you like to introduce me to the new class of recruits?”

  “Sure,” Jay says, his voice a little sharp, as if he isn’t so happy to introduce this man to anyone. I wonder why. Jay motions to him. “Recruits, this is George, director of the NDA.”

  George, the director of the NDA, looks at me. His gaze wanders up and down my body. Feeling vulnerable, I cross my arms over my chest. “Welcome. A couple words of warning. Any trainee who is incapacitated for more than twenty-four hours will be immediately removed from the program.” Great ice-breaker, that is. Then he says directly to me, “Interesting selection of recruits this year. We’ll see how long you last.”

  Talk about a slap in the face. He doesn’t know me.

  I open my mouth to tell him that I’ll be staying to the end but no sound comes out. I can’t exhale. I can’t speak. But once he looks away I’m glad I didn’t say anything. I hated feeling his eyes on me. I want to be invisible to George, the director of the NDA. I don’t have anything to prove to him. Or to anyone else.

  Only to myself.

  He walks past me to assess the next initiate, and I breathe a sigh of relief. My stomach growls, reminding me that I h
aven’t eaten in hours. Mattie hears it. She giggles and elbows me. Embarrassed, I clap my hand over my stomach.

  Jay says, “I can escort you all back to the dormitory. Or, if you prefer, the cafeteria.”

  “I know where you’re going first,” Mattie whispers. She smiles. “I’m hungry too. I can’t remember the last time I was so hungry. I think it’s all the running. Maybe I should’ve started running a long time ago. Then I wouldn’t be so fat.”

  “You aren’t fat,” I whisper back.

  Mattie pats her slightly rounded belly. “You’re being polite.”

  We don’t need any help finding the cafeteria. It’s down the hall from the computer lab. Most of the other recruits come with us. I grab a sandwich and a small yellow bag printed with red letters. I don’t know what’s in the bag, but Mattie took one so I do too. I get a bottle of water and we sit at an empty table. To my surprise the other recruits sit with us.

  “I’m Paul,” says one boy as he sits next to me. He’s tall with red hair and lots of freckles. “Gotta admit, that thing in the tree was impressive. Where did you learn to do that?”

  My face heats as I shrug. “I guess I got bored a lot when I was a kid. I climbed trees.”

  “She’s from Riverview,” Mattie tells him. “No TVs. No video games. No computers. No phones.”

  “Oh, I get it now.” He shakes his head. “I think I would go crazy.”

  “She reads,” Mattie says, as if that’s the most unheard of thing ever.

  His eyes bug out. “No way!”

  “Yeah!” she exclaims.

  Wow, I read. I climb trees. It seems I’m an oddity to the Middleton group.

  “Yes” I say, “I’m hoping the reading will come in handy someday…like the tree climbing.”

  Mattie shrugs. “You never know.”

  “Yeah, you never know,” Paul agrees.

  “To me, the whole thing was uncivilized,” says Alice as she sits next to Paul. “Climbing a tree? Like an ape? Who does that?”

  I do.

  “Who cares about being uncivilized,” Mattie says. “We are, after all, being trained to fight terrorists, remember?”

  Alice wrinkles her nose. “Yes, but there’s no need to actually get…physical. We have machines to do all the dirty work for us. Computer-controlled drones and robots. We won’t be soldiers. We’ll do our battles in a computer lab, not a forest. I don’t understand why we have to run.” She turns her attention to me. “How much do you know about a computer, hick?”

  I know they use electricity, which is deadly in my world. I know they are connected to the ‘Net, which is also deadly in my world. Because anything that the Amiga can control can be, and has been, used as a weapon.

  When I don’t respond, because anything I say will be twisted around anyway, she jerks up her chin and smiles, “Yes, I thought so. No need to worry about this one.”

  “I still thought the tree thing was impressive,” Paul says.

  Alice scoffs. “You would. You’re impressed by a mound of dirt.”

  “And you’re a bitch,” says a second guy as he drops into the seat beside me. This is the one I had noticed earlier. He looks strong. That’s clear from a mile away. But up close his features are more noticeable. His eyes are a really unique shade of golden-brown. And the smirk pulling his lips, coupled with his dark shaggy hair, makes him look young and playful. He offers his hand. “Tomas. Tom for short. I thought the tree idea was brilliant. And the way you scaled that building yesterday, too.”

  “Thanks,” I say, feeling my face blush again. “I’m afraid you’ve seen the best of me, though,” I admit, feeling like I need to own up to some weakness. I don’t deserve the admiration I see in their eyes. I’m not that special. All I did was climb a tree. “First, I know that was a setup, a test. I’m sure Claire and Jay knew how to get across. I was just the first one among the trainees to see the solution. That’s only because of how I grew up. And when it comes to computers, I know absolutely nothing. I’m sure being able to use computers is much more important than knowing how to climb a tree.”

  “Don’t worry. We can teach you,” Mattie reassures me.

  “Sure,” says Paul.

  Alice rolls her eyes. “Why would you do that? It’s a competition, remember? Only the top three get to choose their positions.”

  “Maybe there’s more to life than being at the top,” Mattie offers.

  Alice smirks. “That’s what losers say. Because otherwise they would feel like losers.” Alice leaves. I’m glad she’s gone. Because I was thinking the same thing. And I don’t like hearing my thoughts spoken aloud.

  Chapter 9

  I still remember, more vividly than I wish, my first day of school. I was nervous. I recall standing outside, in line, looking at all the other kids’ faces and wondering if they were nice or mean. Would they be my friends? Or would they tease and torment me? I remember my teacher, her warm smile and sparkling eyes. She made all the butterflies in my belly settle down.

  I’m just as nervous today as I was then, though for different reasons. And the butterflies? Well, Jay is stirring them up. It feels like the whole swarm is spinning and whirling and whipping through my insides. It’s his eyes. They are so sharp and penetrating. I feel like he can see straight to my soul.

  I know in my head that I need to get a grip on my fascination with him. First, there are my feelings for Sam. I love Sam today as much as I loved him yesterday, even though I probably won’t marry him. But even setting the issue of Sam aside, Jay is my teacher. I am his student. There is a lot I need to learn. I need to be focused, to concentrate. Making matters worse, the consequences of failing isn’t just a bad grade. It might be…it could be…death. We do dangerous things. We are training to go to war. We are training hard so we don’t die. Not everyone will make it through this. I may not make it through.

  Somehow I need to get my head out of the clouds and pay attention.

  Like now. It’s our first full day here. We’re all dressed in identical black uniforms. I’m sitting at a table in our classroom, Mattie to my right and Tom on my left, I haven’t been listening to what Jay has been telling us. I haven’t been taking notes like Mattie. Or listening attentively like Tom. I’ve been watching Jay move. Noting the flex of his arm muscles when he lifts his hand to write on the chalkboard behind him. I’ve been thinking about Jay’s eyes. And about how fast those butterflies are somersaulting through my belly.

  “…hand-to-hand combat,” Jay says.

  Hand to hand combat? As in, fist fight? Really? We have to learn how to fight?

  Around me the other recruits mumble and grumble.

  “What do we need to learn that for? We’re fighting with computer-controlled drones,” Alice says. She’s sitting at the table next to ours, with Paul and another girl I don’t know.

  “Because we will be fighting hand-to-hand sometimes too,” Jay informs us.

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Hand-to-hand fighting? It’s uncivilized.” Alice rolls her eyes. “And unnecessary.”

  Jay glares at her. “The first lesson all recruits need to learn is to keep their mouths shut. If you don’t agree with our training procedures, you’re free to leave. Any time. Be my guest.” He jerks a thumb toward the nearest exit.

  She remains frozen in place, except her eyes. They flick around as if she’s searching for something, probably some help.

  No help comes.

  “What’ll it be?” our trainer asks, sounding impatient.

  “I apologize,” Alice murmurs.

  “No apologies necessary. Just shut your mouth and learn. It could save your life.” Satisfied he has gotten his point across, Jay continues, “Like I was saying, during level one, you will learn the basics of hand-to-hand combat. Afterward, you will be tested and ranked from highest to lowest before moving on to the second level of training. Only the top three graduating recruits will be allowed to select their positions within the agency. They will also earn a bonus. And yo
u heard what George said about anyone who is injured and can’t train. Twenty-four hours and you’re out.”

  “What happens to the ones who don’t make it?” someone shouts.

  “Do you want to find out?” Jay counters.

  No one responds.

  He moves to a door, opens it. “This way.”

  We follow him into a room that is empty. A black circle is painted in the center of the grimy tiled floor. The walls are blank, a greyish white that had probably been pure white a long time ago. The weak light of lanterns suspended from the ceiling do a poor job of illuminating the space. Off to one side are several tall soft-sided cylinders, suspended from the ceiling. Jay points at them.

  “Pick a punching bag,” he tells us.

  Punching bag. I’ve heard the expression but had never seen what one looks like before. I stand next to one and give it a poke. It’s firm but not hard, covered in brown material.

  Jay stands next to me, feet set wide apart, arms crossed over his chest. “We will be teaching you how to defend yourself. The purpose of this exercise is two-fold. You must be prepared for any act of aggression, physical or mental, if you want to survive. Also, you must train your body and mind to respond to threats, instead of freezing like a bewildered deer caught in headlights.”

  I understand the bewildered deer reference. But headlights?

  “I will teach you several techniques this morning and this afternoon you will fight each other. Pay attention. Some of you will get hurt.”

  I will have to fight someone? And I might get hurt? My breakfast threatens to retreat up my throat. I’ve never hit anyone or anything in my life. This is nothing like what I’d expected. Granted, knowing that I was walking into a world I knew very little about, I didn’t really have any specific expectations.

  After teaching all of us several moves, Jay instructs us to practice with the punching bags. I punch and kick the bag as hard as I can, but it barely moves. The impacts hurt. My hands and feet become sore. But I keep going, afraid that if I don’t keep at it I’ll be thrown out. I see the others around me, their bags swinging from the force of their strikes. I’m weaker than all the guys.