The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series)

by Tricia Wentworth

“I wish. Nope. I’ll be stuck with everyone else.” He sighs. “Excited about your family?”

  I keep eating and don’t look at him because if I do, I might start crying. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  I take a deep breath, look back up at him, and ask, “Will you get to see your mom?”

  “Yeah. She works at DIA and serves on the President’s cabinet so I was bound to run into her anyway.” He shrugs.

  “Oh, wow.”

  In my head, this woman is nothing short of superwoman. I wonder if I will meet her when we are there. I’ve met Henry’s dad, who is the most powerful man in the nation, if not world, so I shouldn’t be as nervous about meeting Lyncoln’s mom as I am.

  “I’m glad you are eating better,” he says. He looks at me affectionately and it warms me. “You didn’t eat much at breakfast.”

  “Yeah. Well it was a long night and I was distracted this morning.” I roll my eyes. I was just a ball of nerves in-between those two boys this morning. I couldn’t form a sentence let alone hold a fork. I was nervous about my eye and even my pants too.

  He smirks. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I respond, looking him dead in the eyes.

  “Is it because you saw me half naked?” he flirts with raised eyebrows.

  Remembering early this morning, I blush multiple shades of red. He just laughs and I can’t help but laugh too.

  “You are incorrigible.” I take a bite of oh-so-delicious cheesecake.

  He stands and walks over to me, leaning down with both hands on the armrests of the chair I’m sitting in. “I have to go now. I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” He leans down and kisses the top of my head and leaves just as swiftly as he came.

  How can one man be so bossy and so compassionate at the same time?

  ****

  My group is the last to get to DIA. I remember all the terminals from when we got here just weeks ago. I’m wondering what sort of “preparation” work we will be doing today. I would rather be catching up on sleep as I feel tired from the night before and all the interruptions, but am glad for the distraction too. I get to see my family tomorrow! I could not be more excited and anything to help the time pass more quickly is welcomed.

  After all of us finally arrive, we go up a few escalators to a big room with about 15 chairs around a huge oval table. Everything is black, the table, the chairs, the walls, the ceiling, and even our gear. I take a seat beside Oliver and Vanessa.

  “First we will be doing blood tests and getting you fitted for proper equipment. Then we will give you key cards for the floors you are cleared for. You will be taught how to do the retina and fingerprint scans. Both are needed at the beginning of every drill. There is only one rule here. Don’t go where you aren’t cleared to go.” A man is telling us what we are to do. He doesn’t exactly look inherently nice either.

  Afterward, we don’t hesitate to do as we are told. Two stations are set up and half of us go to the gear fitting station and half of us get our blood drawn. I sit by Vanessa as we get our blood taken at the same time.

  “I hate needles,” she shakes her head and I laugh. You would think she would be used to them by now. And Vanessa doesn’t strike me as the type to be afraid of anything, much less a needle.

  We then head over to get fitted for gear. I was thinking “gear” as in more black outfits, but this is more weaponry and less “gear”. I get my arm lengths measured and hold different objects that look like shields. I am measured for a bow. I hold three different guns and have to tell them which I prefer. My waist is sized for a belt which holds about a hundred different ways to kill someone. Boy am I glad Marisol isn’t here. She would probably chuck a grenade or something at me.

  When we finish with that, Mr. Grumpaluffagus takes us on a tour.

  “Floors 3 and 4 are mainly where you will be. Floor 5 may be used on occasion. All simulations are on the third floor, which is also where your self-defense class will be.” He walks us down a long hallway with no windows.

  “This is the practice range where you may practice shooting, though not with real ammunition of course.” We enter a huge room with tall ceilings. Targets are everywhere and some ranges look special as they are enclosed in glass and separated from others. I bet each of us could practice at the same time. I imagine practicing while he continues talking, “Some of you are women and may think that it doesn’t matter, but even Madam Maxwell was a great shot. You need to be able to protect yourselves. Denver contestants have already learned the basics. The rest of you will need to catch up. Any of you may use your key cards to enter this room whenever you have time.”

  We leave through sliding doors and head down a floor via escalator to stand outside of more doors. It takes our tour guide a while to enter in all the proper codes in a keypad, and then huge metal doors open up to a room even bigger than the last one. The lighting is dark and the room looks like the room we were in for our lie detector tests but much, much bigger. Thick black foam or rubber lines all of the walls.

  “Welcome to the simulator,” he says, almost smiling. He likes this place, wherever we are. “This is a room you are about to spend a lot of time in.” He hands out a pair of high-tech looking glasses to each of us adding, “We run you through different simulations here. You will use weapons the actual weight of real weapons and be given what feels like real life situations where you will have to think on your feet and defend yourself. For obvious reasons, we use the simulator mainly for military training. You will be graded on how efficiently you will carry out different exercises in the simulator. At first, it will be you alone. Then you will go with another or even a group.”

  He walks over to the touch keypad on the wall and hits a bunch of buttons. “Here is a demonstration for you to see how real the simulations seem. Please put on your glasses now.”

  The room completely transforms around us. We are outside. There is blue sky and even clouds for Pete’s sake! I see trees and grass and I can even feel a slight breeze. People laugh. Oliver reaches out to touch a tree, but his finger goes straight through it. I walk around on the grass, trying to feel it with my shoes. It’s there but it isn’t there. I reach down to pick up a piece of grass. It’s in my hand, but yet I know there is nothing there. It all looks so very real. Even three dimensional.

  Vanessa smiles beside me but isn’t as surprised as the rest of us. She must have been in this room before.

  “And this is an example of what an enemy will look like,” our tour guide adds, hitting a bunch more buttons.

  In the middle of the room, a simulated person pops up. He is tall and well-built and looks real besides the fact that he is a bit see through and doesn’t have any facial expressions. Still, he looks eerily real and it is a bit unnerving that we will have to shoot what seems like a person.

  Abraham has also obviously been in here before because he isn’t hesitant at all to approach the simulator dude. He walks over to touch him, but unlike with the tree, rather than his finger going through the man, it looks like he pokes him. That must mean that through the three-dimensional glasses, we can interact with the sim in different ways. Sometimes it is more like a projected object like the tree and sometimes it feels real. And yet nothing is really there in either instance.

  After we explore the simulator and walk around for a bit, the grumpy man hits a few buttons to bring us back to the rubbery black room. “We have simulations for a variety of different situations, but mainly combat situations and testing you on your ability to think on your feet. These simulations can be scary, but all can be passed. The person with the least amount of kills at the end of this will be given a prize and own bragging rights until the next Culling. Also, we can use the simulator to test you with different people of the opposite sex to see who you work best with. Sometimes, we find the person who you work alongside best isn’t who you think it is.

  “Lastly, there is a locker room outside this room in which you will each have a locker to store your glasses and any other gea
r you may have on you. There is also a lounge area with a television screen set up in which you can watch others complete their sims should you have free time,” he says nonchalantly as he finishes explaining and we head to the next area.

  Who will I work alongside best? Henry? And kills?! Yikes.

  I feel like I want to go back to the practice range and work on my aim. It looks like I’ll need to be able to shoot more than a turkey after all. Then again, maybe I should be watching and studying other people’s sims. Regardless, this just got a whole lot scarier and more serious.

  ****

  I have learned my four digit code and how to run the retina and fingerprint scans. I am given my key card that gets me into the practice range among other places. Other than floors 3 and 4, we aren’t given a tour anywhere else. I’m anxious for the next week to begin. How will I do with the simulators? Won’t Denver people, specifically those that have already been through it like Vanessa, have a severe advantage?

  Other than the practice range and the simulator, I’m not sure why it was needed that we get a tour of just two floors. Floor four has a bunch of meeting rooms that we are allowed to wait in or grab a drink from. It also has a few observation rooms and, of course, the practice range. While others go through the simulator, it is apparent that we will be doing a lot of sitting around. Where everything feels inviting and homey at Mile High, it feels opposite at DIA; there is a very serious atmosphere.

  I can’t help but think of Henry and Lyncoln. I’m not at all a good partner for them. I can’t really even aim a gun. If I want high enough scores to be able to stick around or look deserving at their side, I need to put in some serious work. I mentally promise myself to go to the practice range as much as I can.

  Upon arriving back at Mile High, I’m reminded that we have two socials tonight with other candidates. Mine are Attie and Benjamin. In looking at the schedule in my room, I find I will be going to Attie’s room and then Benjamin will be coming to mine. I only have time to grab a bite to eat and change before I have to be at Attie’s room. I eat a sandwich then throw on jeans and a blouse with a matching cardigan and head with Sarge to her room.

  I knock and the door opens right away. “Hey. DIA though, huh?” She smiles and greets me warmly. I’m so glad she seems to be over being mad or disappointed or whatever.

  “Oh my gosh. The simulator. I have never seen anything like it.” I shake my head as we sit down at her coffee table. She has a soda and has already gotten me a glass of tea. That’s just how she is. I’m sure she ordered them earlier. She is always thinking of others and going the extra step, the step that most of us don’t even think of. Attie would make an amazing Madam President. If I’m honest with myself, her and Henry as a pair would be perfect and make more sense than him and I. I have to shake that thought out of my head. “I could even feel a breeze,” I add with a laugh.

  “Oh me too,” she pauses. “But kills? We can be killed and kill? Funnn.” She shakes her head.

  “You will do great, Attie.” I smile supportively.

  “No, you will. Now, if there were situations where I needed to respond to a medical emergency, that I am good with. Even with blood. I’m good with saving others. Just not so much at being the one to pull the trigger. I fix the bloody messes, not make them.” She shakes her head nervously.

  Again, this is why she would be perfect as Madam President. “Attie, I’m glad we fixed things between us. To be completely honest with you, it should be you with Henry. You were made for this. I sincerely feel that you’d be a great madam president,” I say honestly, feeling emotional again. I want this, but standing next to someone like her, I feel completely inadequate. Will it ever really be Henry and me in the end? It seems unlikely when I take a good hard look at the facts.

  “You’d be great too. And stop feeling bad about Henry. His feelings weren’t there. I’m fine with that. Besides, I have my sights set on someone else now.” She winks and shimmies twice.

  I feel a jealous pang of anger thinking that she’s talking about Lyncoln, but I remind myself that they have an agreement. “Oh?”

  “You know me well. Guess.” She gestures for me to go ahead.

  I think of the boys remaining. Pierce, Douglas, and grabby Grady were sent home leaving 19 boys to pick from. I think of what I know about Attie’s personality. She is kind. She is bubbly. She would do anything for someone else. Other than Henry, who would make a perfect fit for her?

  “My money is on either Adam or Knox,” I guess after thinking it through.

  “Ahhh. See? You are very perceptive,” she nods in approval.

  “I was right?” I ask surprised.

  “Yep. Knox. He’s quiet though crazy smart and calculating. He’s also kind and good-hearted too. Lyncoln took me under his wing and helped me get to know the other candidates, well the good ones anyway, and I saw how much I respected Knox. I didn’t even really know Henry, I was just fascinated by him because he is the heir. With Knox, I think because he is laid back and doesn’t have an overbearing personality, I thought he wasn’t kind or wasn’t interested. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. He would make a great president. And the fact that he didn’t train for it his entire life, makes him even more appealing to me. I can’t wait for the ball Friday if I make it,” she bounces her shoulders excitedly.

  Listening to her, I feel relieved. They will make a great pair. With his brains and her heart, the country would thrive. I know from her comments she isn’t meaning to knock down Henry or Lyncoln, she is just excited about Knox. As she should be.

  “I am so happy for you,” I say fully meaning it.

  “Thanks. I don’t envy you though.” She laughs and adds, “You have gotten yourself stuck between two amazing men.”

  “Ugh. Don’t I know it.” I blush and look down embarrassed. “I don’t even know how it happened.”

  “Reagan, at this point in this whole process, it doesn’t matter. Don’t feel bad for wanting to be with both. Like I just had to learn, you can’t go on just their packet information; you have to get to know them.” She squeezes my shoulder. “This is for the presidency, but should you win, you are stuck with that person for life. So take your time. No rush.”

  “That makes sense, but why do I feel like a tramp for just wanting to get to know them both?” I ask. It feels good to be honest with her. I’m tired of Henry and Lyncoln shrugging it off like it’s no big deal. And it feels good to talk girl-talk about my situation, to talk with someone that would understand how I feel. Someone who knows what it feels like to not know anything about the boys.

  “Because in what other world do you have the opportunity to date 20 guys at the same time? And are even encouraged to do so?”

  I have to laugh at that. “True.”

  “At least it’s just two men. It could be four or five. I think seven boys wanted Elizabeth that first night. Renae is starting to date Benjamin though she hasn’t completely cut it off with the others. This is what? Her fourth? So it could be worse.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I laugh.

  “Now, getting to know one another. Tell me about your family. I know you have sisters. Two right?”

  “Three, actually.” She smiles and stands walking to the microwave to set a timer. “So we don’t get distracted. You make me chatty,” she stares me down like I’m in trouble and I laugh.

  She sits back down and continues, “So three sisters. And we all get along surprisingly well. I am the oldest, which is probably why I have always liked taking care of people. I helped my mom with my sisters when they were little so it is something I have always done.”

  “You miss them, don’t you?” I smile in understanding.

  “Yes. I wish I would have been on your paintball team more than anything.” She smiles teary eyed and then shakes her head.

  Wanting to move things along without her looking sad, I keep asking questions. “If not Madam President, what would you want to do?”

  Her face lights up. “I have been train
ing in Neonatal Intensive Care. So basically, I will be a traveling nurse that will transfer to a township where a baby is born that needs help. We will go where we are needed and stay a short time with the child until he or she is better. We have a NICU much like pre-Trident in Vegas, but the other townships barely even have nurseries. And the level of premature babies after Trident has sky-rocketed. We are doing tons of studies in Vegas trying to figure out why, but nothing has been conclusive.

  “So, until I have my own family that is what I would do. I realize traveling careers are few and far between. We have only six sets of traveling nurses for NICU for the entire country, so I know it’s a longshot. But, I feel like with a wanted population growth, and the preemie rate as high as it is, too many babies are falling between the cracks. There has been too much death already. And dying babies because we can’t get to them fast enough? That isn’t acceptable. Especially when we have the technology to save them. It isn’t like cancer, where sometimes there is nothing we can do. We know exactly what to do. So why aren’t we? There should be a NICU in each township’s hospitals.”

  “So why isn’t there?” I ask, not even realizing that this is an issue. Why haven’t we been told about this? Babies are dying? I think back to our hospital in Omaha. We have a nursery with a dozen or so beds for babies. What’s the point of having those beds if we don’t have all the technology available to help save those babies?

  “Not enough resources, I guess. Each township gets a team of six doctors and fifteen nurses, except for Vegas. The doctors aren’t really even specialized. Not to mention once they leave for another township, they never return for any training. Everything is done through email or online presentations. It isn’t enough. I understand that we need to be separated, but we have the technology and knowledge to save a lot of people. Each township needs at least a cardiologist and a neurologist. Heck, even a chiropractor! And double the nurses for sure.” She pauses. “How big is Omaha?”