The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series)

by Tricia Wentworth

  Chapter 25

  I choose to eat supper in my room in my pajamas, not feeling up to seeing everyone else although I’m dying to know what happened in the control room after I took over the interrogation. Jamie and Sarge have checked on me at least five times and I’m thinking about calling it a day and just going to bed early when I hear a knock on my door. I don’t even check to see who it is. Since Lyncoln briefly stopped by to check on me about a half an hour ago, I’m assuming it’s Henry.

  Upon opening the door, I see that I was mistaken. None other than the President himself is before me. I suppose I should be nervous he’s going to give me the boot after what I pulled today, but I don’t think the President himself would do it. That honor would be reserved for Dougall or one of the other professors.

  “May I come in?” he asks kindly.

  “Yes, please do.” I smile tightly, feeling embarrassed to be wearing my pajamas and probably looking worse for wear.

  I grab a bottle of water for him as he sets a box down on my coffee table. Two of his guards are outside of my room, and two are inside with us. I’m sure there are two more down the hall and two more at the elevators. This man is never without an entourage.

  “It is my understanding you had a rough day, so I brought a little something to brighten it.” He smiles apologetically as he sits down.

  “Let me guess. Chocolate cheesecake?” I ask with a smile.

  “You got it. With peanut butter this time.” He smiles back then sighs before he begins, “Sometimes you remind me so much of my Essie. I am truly sorry for the events that transpired today. You never should have been let in that room,” he says firmly.

  “But they were going to kill him,” I interject. “I couldn’t just sit there and watch them kill him. I know he wasn’t completely innocent, but did he really deserve to die?”

  “No. It never should have gotten that far either. Hadenfelt has been stretching the rules a bit as of late.” The way in which he says it makes the underlying tension bubble to the surface. “Regardless, there is something you should know that will help you with your interrogation tomorrow, should you chose to go back.”

  “Okay?” He definitely has my attention.

  “When Mr. Nolan Samson, the drifter you intervened with today, referred to the State turning down the drifters and a bunch of them starving, he is absolutely correct,” the President admits with sadness. He runs a hand through his thin, gray hair, thinking about what to say next. “We didn’t handle it the best. There was a famine where they were located. They sent some men to ask for help. We thought they were decoys trying to lure us out. How were we to give them food but keep ourselves safe at the same time? How did I know it wasn’t some big ploy? How did they not have food with a booming wildlife population?”

  He shakes his head and looks at me sadly. “We went back and forth for hours. Finally, my cabinet voted to deny their request. We gave the three that came more than enough food and lots of dried goods like rice that would last them a while, but we sent them on their way.”

  I nod thinking about his reasoning. In Omaha we can barely keep up with feeding our current population as is anyway. So what would I have done?

  “This decision ate at Essie and me. We had the moves in place to finally form a truce and use their situation to our benefit, but we didn’t know it and were running scared. They had just attempted an attack on Denver and we were reeling from that. I just couldn’t take the risk of more of my people dying.

  “As a result, some of their people died. By the time we knew how bad it really got, it was too little too late. I’m not proud of this decision, but I did what I thought was right at the time. Later we would find out there was a disease in the deer population that made all the wildlife numbers greatly fluctuate. That in combination with some bad weather and being in the wrong spot at the wrong time, made them starve. If they hadn’t planted it themselves, they had zero food. And since the drifters are known for hopping camps and being nomads, they hadn’t planted a thing. We just didn’t know. We had no idea how bad it really got.” He shakes his head and I see him struggle with the guilt he has been dealing with for the past ten years.

  I put my hand on his hand and give it a quick squeeze saying, “I understand.” The longer I am in the Culling, the more I see the gray areas in which the right thing to do doesn’t seem so straightforward. This was one of those instances.

  He nods then adds, “You absolutely do not have to go back tomorrow. I need you to know that. This isn’t your responsibility. It’s mine.”

  “But will Hadenfelt be in charge if I don’t?” I ask, not even attempting to hide my dislike for the man.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Taggert will watch him closely though.” He shakes his head like there is nothing he can do about it.

  “Then I don’t have a choice. I’m going,” I say determined.

  ****

  Out of pure exhaustion, I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow after President Maxwell leaves. I am woke from a deep sleep to a knock on my door. I lazily get out of bed and yawn. I feel annoyed towards whoever is coming to disturb me. I barely get enough sleep these days.

  I open the door to a distraught looking Henry. “Hey,” he says softly.

  “Hey,” I respond with a yawn.

  “Can I come in?” he asks unsure.

  “Of course.” I shrug and move to prop open the door.

  Before we get as far as the couch, he wraps me in his arms. “I am so sorry. So, so sorry. I lost my cool.” He pauses. “There is no excuse.”

  “It’s okay,” I respond softly, my annoyance with him waking me now gone given his heartfelt apology. “It was just a messed up situation. I shouldn’t have done it, but I had no other option. I think Hadenfelt wanted to kill him in front of us just to mess with us.”

  He then kisses me fervently, pulling back after a minute then kissing me once more on the cheek.

  “You drive me crazy,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Welcome to my fan club,” I joke.

  He pulls away and holds my small hands in each of his larger ones and looks at me affectionately. “I can’t even think right when I think you are in danger. You did amazing today. Amazing. You did better in interrogation than people that have had training for years, but I was so worried about you that I couldn’t even focus on that. I lost my mind when I couldn’t find you and then saw you in that room. I have no idea how I could run the country when I am in a constant state of worry over the woman I love.”

  My mouth drops open. Did he really just say what I think he said or am I still dreaming?

  “You...” I don’t even know if I want to ask if he is sure he loves me because I want it to be true.

  “I do.” He grins with those killer dimples and searches my eyes as if wanting to remove all my doubts. “I love you, Reagan Scott, and it scares the crap out of me.”

  We are kissing again before I have a chance to say anything or process it. Before I know it, he pulls away and I am left breathless and confused. My lips feel swollen and tingly and my senses have definitely woken up.

  “You need some sleep. I was going to do this in the morning, but I just couldn’t end this day with things how we left them. I’m going to go now, beautiful.” He smiles and kisses me on the cheek again.

  “Hey,” I grab his arm to stop him.

  “Yeah?” he asks, turning.

  “I’m sorry, too, for what I said to you earlier. It was a bit harsh.”

  “Don’t be. I deserved it and I like that you aren’t afraid to put me in my spot.” He smiles sheepishly and then adds, “Especially if my spot is right beside you.” He chuckles. “So cheesy, but so true.”

  And with that, he leaves. I have a hard time falling back asleep. Both Henry and Lyncoln have now told me they loved me, although Henry’s was downright and Lyncoln’s was implied. Despite knowing how they both feel, I feel like my heart is fracturing. And it’s not a clean break either, it’s a slow and painfu
l one.

  What am I going to do? Just when I think I know what I should do, I am with one or the other and they say or do something that makes me question everything.

  How will I ever choose?

  ****

  The next day I’m excused from sims and the range for interrogating so I throw myself into my work with Samson to avoid the big decision that is rapidly approaching. I limit our sessions to two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon. I allow him a shower, a meal, some clothes, and a new room. I also have a medic check his pneumonia, which he does have like I originally suspected.

  Instead of meeting in a room with torture equipment, we meet in a different type of interrogation room without all of that. There is a table in which we sit across from one another and talk like civil human beings, though he is tied down. And of course, Hadenfelt and his cronies are on the other side of the window in the control room, always present and always watching. Jamie is in the room with me, right by my side. Henry, Lyncoln, Knox and Attie are in the observation room too. I am never alone in this.

  It’s a long day, but the interrogating is coming along. There is still animosity on both sides, but in the morning session we were talking more about why each side hates the other. He hasn’t given us any solid information on their future plans, but he elaborated on the attack plan for the masquerade and has hinted at more information that is helping us find the mole here. It is slow going, but it is progress nonetheless. Twenty-four hours ago he was almost a dead man.

  Ending our session for the day, I look at him with tears in my eyes. “Please help me make sure what happened to Oliver doesn’t happen again,” I say softly. I’m tired of having nightmares that find me at Henry or Lyncoln’s funerals.

  He sighs and I can tell he is having some sort of inner struggle.

  “Even though the guy is on my side, I still don’t like him.” He shakes his head in reference to the mole. He is still bruised, has a horrible cough, and looks too thin, but he looks marginally better than he did a day ago.

  “Then what’s the issue?” I ask, eyebrows raised.

  “Other than if I tell you, he will come find me and kill me?” He shakes his head. “I’ll be a traitor.”

  “Well here, you already are one,” I state the obvious.

  “Yes. And I’m not naive enough to think I will ever leave here, but I don’t want to become one of you either. Once you get as much information out of me as you can, you will be done with me and kill me. That’s how this works,” he ends his explanation angrily.

  “Why do you have to think about it in terms of us and them? I can’t promise you immunity, or even freedom, but this is about doing the right thing. Do you want more blood on your hands?” Although I get to play boss lady, I’m not in charge here and can’t make him any promises. With Hadenfelt in charge, he is probably right that he will be killed when we are done with him. But as long as he keeps helping us, he secures his future for one more day.

  “That piece of information is the last bargaining chip for my life, so I will keep it awhile if you don’t mind,” he says sadly.

  Knowing our session for the day is over, I leave and plan on talking with Taggert the next day to figure out some sort of way to save the drifter’s life. I understand he can’t go free, but he shouldn’t die either. I’ll be going over Hadenfelt’s head for this but Hadenfelt won’t cooperate with me at all, so I’ll just deal with Taggert personally.

  ****

  Back at Mile High, Dougall is trying to train me for the interviews. In a rare occurrence it is just the two of us, but it is after dinner since that was the only time she could corner me. After prepping for a few questions on my political views, the conversation turns more serious.

  “It has been 11 days,” Dougall points out.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I release a huge sigh, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.

  “Do you know what you are going to do? It may be wise to do it just a day or two before the deadline, show the panel your decisiveness. And you can be that much more ready for the interviews too,” she offers.

  “So you want me to do it tomorrow?” I ask shocked. My heart rate picks up and my hands begin to feel clammy.

  “Or the next day.” Then she pats my hand in a rare moment of softness. “You knew this was going to have to happen eventually.”

  I just shrug sadly. Either way, a piece of me is going to leave when one of them leaves. I only have three days left.

  Three days.

  ****

  Though it’s a Sunday and supposed to be our slow day, I plan to hit interrogations hard. After my discussion right away in the morning with Taggert, Henry, and Lyncoln, I head to the interrogation room to begin my first session with Samson. Henry is heading to his big eight-hour solo sim. And Lyncoln, who has surprisingly been the biggest supporter of my interrogations, is finishing brainstorming with Taggert a deal we can offer Samson before sitting in on my interrogating. I left without him to come to the interrogation rooms because I don’t like Samson waiting for me, especially with Hadenfelt and his evil minions sitting there on the other side of the glass of the control room.

  I greet Attie and Knox already in the observation room and then enter the next door to the control room. I can feel the hatred boiling off of Hadenfelt and Williams as soon as I hit the door. The better I do, the worse they look. And since I am doing pretty well, they are looking pretty bad. Hadenfelt baited me into that interrogation room, hoping to prove a point and make me look like a fool. Who’s the fool now?

  “May I ask a favor?” Hadenfelt asks right away in a fake sweet voice, the same one I have heard his daughter use often. Now I know where she gets all her shady characteristics from.

  “What?” I sound as annoyed as I feel.

  “Since you have been so successful with this drifter, we were wondering if you could work with Isabella. She is being difficult and today may be her last day here.” He gives me a look that has me catching what he is implying.

  Although I feel like he is trapping me, baiting me again, I also know what he is saying. She isn’t helping them and they are going to kill her today if she doesn’t give anything up. Although I don’t feel like facing the person who killed my friend, I don’t feel like making a conscious decision to let her die either. I hate that he just put that choice upon my shoulders, too. I don’t want to decide if she lives or dies.

  I sigh. “When?”

  “Well, while Taggert figures out what to do with your drifter, why don’t you try now? Doesn’t have to be long, maybe ten or so minutes? Just you and her, no extras, no other distractions. That seems to be working,” Hadenfelt offers and is doing his best to say it without animosity. “I have her all ready to go a few rooms over. You can go for a few minutes now, and by the time you finish up with her, you might have something more solid to offer Samson.”

  I know I’m giving him what he wants which is why his hatred for me has been replaced with indifference. Am I even going to be able to handle being in the same room with Isabella after what she did to Oliver? But does she deserve to die, and in the most inhumane way at that? Why is he putting her life in my hands? I don’t want this responsibility! Is he just trying to mess with me, knowing that being in the same room as her will affect me?

  “Fine,” I finally decide, determined to prove him wrong yet again. I know I have to at least give it a shot. Here’s hoping I can make him look like a fool both times he’s baited me like this.

  “Good. Williams will take you and stay posted in the control room,” Hadenfelt nods to the other man, who is still quite bruised from his run in with Lyncoln.

  “Yes, sir,” Williams says, looking as hateful as ever.

  We walk in silence down the hallway and around a corner and my gut starts to churn. Can I do this? Can I face Isabella? I would feel better if Henry or Lyncoln were here. I know Lyncoln will be down shortly and Attie and Knox are just a few doors down. Jamie looks uncomfortable with this too, but he is st
ill here. So I am not alone. I am not alone.

  Williams enters the door into to the control room for this interrogation room and hands me a water bottle from the counter knowing that I was going to ask for it. He seems to be in just as big of a hurry to get this over with as I am. Through the glass of the control room, I can see Isabella, who looks to be in about the same state as Samson was. She is tied down and sitting in a chair in the middle of the room. Evidently waiting for me.

  “You are not going in there alone,” Jamie demands. “I know Hadenfelt said no extras, but I don’t care. Let me call this in. At least get Lyncoln down here to observe. Then we’ll go in.”

  I know by “calling it in”, he means to fill in Taggert and my boy toys on what is going on. Hadenfelt is throwing me for a loop and he wants the others informed. Immediately.

  “She’s tied up,” I say feeling anything but brave. “Call it in and then come on in. I want to get this over with before I bail. Just five minutes. We will only be in there five minutes max. Go ahead and call it in. I’m going to go get started.”

  I want to get this over with, but I also want Taggert involved as soon as possible. The sooner Jamie calls it in, the better. I can survive the first thirty seconds without him.

  He nods. “I’ll be right here.”

  Before I lose my nerve, I open the door that brings me face-to-face with Oliver’s murderer.

  She isn’t awake but comes around upon my entering the room.

  “Reagan?” she asks confused.

  “Yeah,” I answer coolly. Every fiber of my being wants to turn around and leave this room immediately.

  “Did you take a wrong turn?” she asks mockingly.

  I see what Lyncoln means about her being so full of hate. Where is the sweet girl that always joked around with Oliver? Was this monster hiding beneath the surface the entire time? I already regret my decision to come in here.