The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series)

by Tricia Wentworth

  Seeing she can’t bully Marcia, Marisol turns to me and stares me down. Unwilling to bow down to someone like her, I immediately stop laughing and stare back not blinking. We stand there for what seems like minutes, and I realize this is my second staredown of the day. As I look into her beautiful blue eyes with super fake, over the top eyelashes, I can’t help but wonder if a bird has ever pooped on those suckers. They stick so far out! I mean, they probably pick up their own internet signal.

  Marcia takes a moment to yawn exaggeratedly and I have a hard time being serious and not cracking a smile. Marisol squints at me one last time with her super long eyelashes like determining I’m not worthy of being in her presence, then suddenly whips her long blonde hair back around and storms out of the room stomping all the way.

  We wait until we hear the elevator door ding before moving to get our guards, and then I am laughing so hard I don’t think I can breathe. Sarge just shakes his head unable to keep from smiling at us. Marcia’s guard also seems amused. I’m pleased to find out, Marcia is down the hall at the end on the same floor as me. We say our goodnights and go to our rooms.

  I enter my room in good spirits in finding a friend. Other than Ashton and my classmates, I don’t really have time for friends at home. As I turn on the lights, I see another file looking like the packet I was given with everyone’s information. This one has the country’s seal on it. I kick off my heels which are making my feet numb and don’t hesitate to walk over to it and open it.

  Inside is a letter congratulating me on making it to the Culling. I find out that there will always be a running rank of us girls from 1-50 and we will be eliminated as such. There is a little of the information I already knew, like at the final four boys and girls, the voting will begin. What I didn’t know was at that point a quarter of our score will be from the Board of Directors and the rest from the votes from the citizens. This is to help the most deserving person become the leader, not just the most charismatic. It also says that the first five girls will be eliminated by Friday. Upon reading that, I get that nervous pit in my stomach.

  I don’t want to go home just yet. I just got here. I just made friends.

  The information also tells me that we will have three classes of training and one written test per day for the first six days, beginning tomorrow. The first class from 8:00-9:45 am will be “Culling: Past and Present”, the second class from 10:00-11:45 am will be “Trident Training”, and the last from 1:00-3:00 pm will be “Social and Practical Etiquette”. It doesn’t give a definite time for each daily test but says that times will vary.

  Next is a letter stating that all our families will be receiving compensation and other perks for our being absent. It says, “We understand that family is a big part of the candidates’ upbringing and will reward those families in raising the leaders we need in the wake of Trident.” It goes on to explain that if we make it through the first two cuts, our immediate family members will receive a promotion. If we make it to the halfway point, they get another promotion. If we make it to the final eight couples, they will get “reevaluated as to be determined for leadership within the township”. At the final four couples, the candidates have the opportunity to stay in Denver or relocate to one another’s home townships if we should choose to do so, thus staying together. And if we make it to the final two couples, our families have the option to join the candidate in Denver “to help serve on committees, possibly even cabinet positions, to better our nation”. If we win, they will “assist the President or Madam President however the Presidential Couple deems necessary”.

  And now I have even more motivation. I have to do this. I have to help my parents. Not everyone in Omaha has the same level of jobs, and there isn’t much moving between the levels of jobs. Ours isn’t the lowest level since we have been allocated our own acreage to work, but it definitely isn’t the top level of jobs either, the leadership and management jobs. If I can make it through the first two cuts, we will be automatically moved up to more important work. The thought of my family being able to help with the leadership in Omaha, which is all older families who are quite lazy, is more than motivating. Moving to Denver? I cannot even imagine. I don’t even know if they want to leave our home, but I know I have to get them as far as I can. At least give them options.

  I then think of Marcia. That is what she needs. She needs to be here to talk to the people of power and influence to get them to hear her out. Or she needs to become one of those people herself.

  The only downside is that we will all be thinking the same thing. Every single girl is going to want to make the first two cuts. Thinking of Marisol’s brash cruelty and superiority complex, I realize that there are some girls who will do whatever it takes to win. I am grateful for my guards always being here with me so no one can mess with me or try to take me out of the competition. Sarge was definitely correct in warning me that this is a competition. All this really is, is one big game. And the stakes are high.

  But, I like playing games. And more than I like playing the games, I like winning them.

  After slipping into some amazing silk pajamas and getting an evening cup of hot tea, I decide it’s time I look at the boys’ folder before I am caught unaware again. It’s almost 11 pm, but I know that if I don’t do it tonight, I never will, and I’m not sure when I will have the time tomorrow. I want to be as informed as possible going into classes tomorrow morning. I’ve just been delaying the inevitable because I know my track record with boys. I am more confident in my own abilities than in my ability to be woo-worthy of the boys.

  I lay the folder on the bed in front of me, put a fluffy pillow or two behind my back, sit cross-legged, and open the ominous blue folder. I decide to start with Benjamin and Omaha since he is the only one. His description does make him sound notable, but if you really knew him, you would understand that he is a bit of a jerk.

  I once watched him and a few of his friends pick on a small boy from our township on our lunch break because the kid was very quirky and nerdy. Benjamin is just a glorified bully hiding behind a mask of machoism. He looks good on paper and in a picture, but he sucks as a person. I don’t like bullies. Not my type…if I have a type.

  I decide to then go to the Seattle boys where only two candidates are from. The one named Ajax looks like he could be Marcia’s identical twin. He isn’t because they have different last names, but still. Maybe they are cousins of some sort. The other is completely opposite looking, blonde hair, blue-eyed and named Oliver.

  All three boys I’ve looked at so far have been smiling and look handsome. I wonder what they think when they look at my picture? What is my first impression? Well, I probably don’t have one because they got stuck on Elizabeth’s picture and never even turned to mine.

  Already deciding to save Denver for last since a whopping 20 boys are from there and because the unofficial heir to the presidency is somewhere within those 20, I decide to go to Galveston next where 11 boys are from. Most of them work in fuel or energy. Although the description is completely over my head and I understand nothing, a boy named Knox seems extraordinarily smart. I don’t know his height from his description but I see him being tall, on the skinny side, and smart enough to beat the pants off anyone in a battle of wits. Another one of the 11 catches my eye because his eyes seem to sparkle. If pictures could laugh, his would be laughing. His name is Trent. He has dark tan skin, his hair is a shade between blonde and brown, he has honey brown eyes, and he just seems to be so happy that it’s jumping out at you. From what I can tell from a lousy picture, he seems more muscular as his neck is more defined. He must have to do some sort of manual labor like we do in Omaha.

  Next, I move to Detroit, where seven boys are from. Quite a few of them are working on transportation projects. One, in particular, is working on a chemical purification bomb that I find interesting. His name is Joshua. He has dark hair, dark skin, and dark brown eyes. He seems to be the seventh boy I’ve found moderately attractive.

  Take th
at Mr. Gray-eyes!

  With this pool of boys, I am sure I would have had a boyfriend by now in Omaha. If they would notice me that is. Finding most of the engineering jargon a bit over my head again, I quickly move through and finish Detroit as it is starting to get late and I would like to go through all of them this evening.

  Onward I flip to Vegas since I’m saving Denver for last, where nine boys are from. Most are going through pre-med classes and have a focus area. One named Sean is going to deliver babies. One is focusing on vaccinations and immune system rehabilitation. One has majored in biochemical warfare, his name is Maverick. He has a kind smile even though he is an expert in a dangerous and touchy subject. Another of the boys named William looks kind and has volunteered to be one of the doctors trained and relocated to another township. He is one of the rare people that are allowed to experience two townships. I smile and think of Omaha’s doctor. It takes a special kind of person to do that and I immediately respect him. Yet another boy named Adam is working on the biomedical sciences of animals and will eventually end up in Omaha as a veterinarian since we have the most animal population. I like all the boys from Vegas it turns out. They will be a force to be reckoned with, competition wise.

  This brings me to the final township, Denver. Not surprisingly, 20 of the 50 boys are from Denver. Normal male citizens have military training at the age of 21. Denver boys start at 16 since most of their specialties will be in the military anyway. So almost all of them have had multiple years of training and are climbing the military ranks. I start in and see face after handsome face specializing in things like “weapon advancement”, “tactical advantages”, “technological weaponry”, and “communications intelligence”. I have no idea what any of it means, but I am impressed by all of it. If I thought Vegas boys were going to be tough to beat, these boys are going to be even more so.

  One boy named Bronson has so many muscles I have no idea how his face even fit in the picture. I stop for a while at one boy named Lyncoln. All of the Denver boys are smiling, albeit half smiling in some, but smiling nonetheless. Lyncoln is not, and unapologetically so. His blue eyes pierce through the paper, but he doesn’t seem cruel or mean like Marisol either. He just seems rough around the edges and has a confident and aggressive air about him. I take in his dark hair contrasted with his blue eyes for a moment and wonder if he was being intentional in not smiling. It’s just a picture though, so maybe I am letting my imagination run wild. I move on to the next picture. I see three more of these military boys, and then I come to the very last picture knowing exactly who it must be, none other than Henry Maxwell.

  Our country now works as a democratic monarchy because of necessity, but if it were a true monarch, Henry would be the rightful heir. He has honey colored hair and deep emerald green eyes. He’s smiling like he knows he’s already won. He has dimples also. Dimples for crap’s sake!? I remember what President Maxwell looked like last night and think that Henry must have gotten more of his looks from his mom, the former Madam President. Regardless, he is just as handsome as Elizabeth is pretty. He’s a catch. I can see why Attie is so enamored with him.

  I sigh, shut the folder, and put it on my nightstand. Well, judging by the pictures, Henry has it in the bag. I think over all of the boys I saw and the questions my tester asked me tonight. Am I attracted to any of them?

  Ah, yes.

  They are just pictures but yes indeedy, to probably half of them! Then again, I would be attracted to Benjamin’s picture if I didn’t know him. I remind myself that I must get to know these boys and find out their true colors. I don’t want to get wrapped up in a jerk like Benjamin and not even know he’s a jerk until it’s too late. In the words of my mother, I can’t “settle for anything less than the best”.

  But at the same time, worrying about these boys is stupid. I’m not here for a boyfriend. I’m here first and foremost to do the best I can on these tests, and then I will deal with the boys. If I make it that far and a single one pursues me or shows any interest at all given my track record with boys, I will be pleasantly surprised.

  Chapter 4

  “What you are about to see is not pretty. We have real pictures of Trident victims and events following the first cases of the virus. You may have seen Trident pictures before, but not like what you are about to see today and in the days following. Since pictures are worth a thousand words, my hope is this is the best way to instill in you a deeper empathy and begin our course on Trident,” Professor Zax begins and I realize I am not going to like what I am about to see.

  I’m sure they are going to be testing us on our reactions too, which means I need to prepare myself. This is going to suck.

  “The population of earth before Trident was approximately 7 billion people. 7 billion. After Trident the population was a weak 150,000, with North America having the most survivors and 100,000 of that 150,000. After doing search and rescue for years across the oceans, we only found about 50,000 surviving people on the other continents.

  “This means there was a fraction of a percent of the people left on earth. Not even one percent was left living! We have risen the population current day to roughly 1.5 million split across our six townships, although not exactly evenly of course.

  “This one virus almost completely took out the entire human race. It was originally created for good, as a means to purify our waters. Then it turned into a weapon. It was deadly and volatile, mutating again and again. You know the phrase ‘spread like a wildfire’? This was more like random violent waves of the ocean. There would be a few incidences, then silence for a day or two. Then another wave would hit. People would leave their homes for food and water thinking they were safe, and then another wave would hit. Just wave after wave after wave leaving nothing but death and destruction in its wake.

  “Enough of my chatting ladies, without further ado, here are some pictures of Trident and what the world used to be like. I’m going to remain quiet while the slideshow plays to show my respect for the lives lost. That and I’m not sure I could talk during it anyway.” He rubs his graying mustache and hits a button on a remote moving to the side of the classroom. The blinds on a few of the windows in the classroom come down as the drop down screen begins playing.

  The slideshow begins and we see things we have all already seen before. Booming huge metropolises with cars everywhere and tall buildings called skyscrapers. And people. There were people everywhere. We see pictures of the big cities: New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, D.C., Houston, and more.

  Then come the pictures of the hospitals as the first cases developed. Following right behind those pictures are the pictures of the hazmat suits we are all used to seeing and isolation tents as Trident reached full blown pandemic. From there the pictures just get more and more grotesque. People were dying so fast, and the world was in such chaos that everything imploded. Some of the not yet infected even tried to burn neighboring cities that were contaminated hoping to save themselves. There were isolation areas of citizens that killed anyone who tried to come near. And then there were the brave souls that tried to help the infected and learn from the virus, even if it meant their own lives. It was the best and worst of humanity.

  In the next half hour we are shown picture after picture of what Trident did and picture after picture of people infected in the different stages of the virus. The details in these pictures are unlike anything we have ever been shown before. It feels very real and is very frightening. I would be able to hear a pin drop in our classroom. We are shown a picture of all the dead bodies in a mound outside of a hospital, limbs laying every which way with no way of knowing where one body ends and the next one begins. The next picture is that mountain of hair and limbs lit on fire. One girl runs and vomits in a trash can. I can’t say I blame her.

  I look around and see many girls crying, one of which is sobbing and sniffling quite loudly. Marcia sits beside me on one side and Agnes on the other. Both are sniffling and struggling to cry in a dignified manner. I’m trying to
be strong and take it all in while maintaining what little poise I have. I’ve seen death before in the animals we raise in Omaha. I was also around when my pops, my grandpa, died. Death like this though is entirely different. This is both surreal and completely brutal.

  Then I see a picture of a little girl, she must be four or five as she holds on to her teddy bear for dear life. She looks very ill and very still. There is a man in a hazmat suit holding her hand while I assume she dies. He has tears streaming down his face inside the suit. I feel my eyes sting and allow just one tear to roll down my face, not even bothering to wipe it away. No little girl should die that young. But as we always say, Trident didn’t discriminate. Young or old. Male or female. Black or white. Trident just didn’t care. There was nothing anyone could have done. That is one of the most brutal parts of it all.

  We are shown probably two dozen more images before the screen stops on one picture. An old man looking in the distance at a city where smoke is billowing out of the sky. The look on his face is pure anguish and grief; it’s the look of a man who has lost everything and everyone he has ever known or cared about.

  “Okay ladies, I think you get the point,” Professor Zax says after giving us a moment or two to compose ourselves. “This virus was originally created to kill bacteria. When it was discovered that it was potent enough to kill people in the same manner, that information, along with the scientist who discovered it, was sold to an evil government. The ironic part is that the virus was too intelligent and it outsmarted and killed them all first, just like the creator warned them it would. But, it eventually did what they wanted it to do; it came to the United States and created widespread destruction. They just weren’t around to see it and they definitely weren’t around to come in and take over our country after the fact.