Lottery

by Darren Cole

  “Justin… Baby?” Tabitha whispered, and gripped his coveralls, trying to coax a word out of him, anything. Their baby fluttered, more strongly than usual, pulling her hands to her belly. She sucked in a breath and quickly turned her head away when an abrupt smile came to her lips. Hiding. Justin flinched, seeming to come back to life. He put his hands over hers, resting them on their child.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, darting his eyes from her face to her belly. “Is the baby okay? Is there something wrong?” Tabitha shook her head, leaving the smile on her face, knowing she had as much control over it as she did the laws in the silo.

  “We’re fine,” she answered, kissing him before bringing him into her arms. “Justin, tell me what to do.”

  “The deputy said he found you crying,” he started to say and then pulled back from her. “He also said that you’d nearly fallen… and that he wasn’t sure it was an accident?” Tabitha squeezed her eyes shut as shame emanated from her like a mottled image reflecting from a tarnished mirror.

  “I’m so sorry, Justin,” she mumbled, pinching her mouth, too ashamed and embarrassed to look at him. The pit of her stomach grew sour, churning in a mix of morning sickness and anguish. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought maybe… maybe we could try to enter the lottery when the year was out.” She saw her husband turn away from her, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Oh, Tabbs… No. No, you couldn’t have thought that way.” Justin’s voice sounded gruff, disappointment evident in his tone. Humiliation filled her, and the sudden indignity loosed a well of untapped tears, making her feel lightheaded. She covered her face in her hands and wept.

  “Wait, Tabbs.” Justin started to say, but she ignored him. “I understand,” he continued. And for what seemed a long time, he rubbed her arms, telling her that it didn’t matter, that he understood. When his hands slowed, he asked a question, “Babe… where are your shoes?” She didn’t know why, but the question surprised her with a little laugh.

  “I don’t know,” she answered in a voice that sounded muffled from beneath her hands.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  She uncovered her face, finding Justin smiling, with tears cradling his eyes. When a tear fell, wetting his cheek, Tabitha embraced him.

  “I’m so sorry, Justin. I couldn’t do it. The deputy stopped me from falling, helped me—and then I just couldn’t do it.”

  “Tabbs, we’re going to have a baby,” he answered, stroking her hair. She felt his chest heave against hers, a shuddering breath leaving in ragged gasps. His body was trembling, but it wasn’t only for the joy of a new life inside her.

  SEVEN

  “WHERE ARE WE GOING?” Tabitha asked. The air from the cafeteria door turned the wet streaks on her face cold. “Justin, please tell me. Tell me where we’re going!” Her husband stopped in front of the large projection of the outside world. The wallscreen towered over the two of them, an ominous display of death that was always present in the cafeteria. She couldn’t help but stare at the ancient glass and steel of distant skeletons. Justin took her chin between his fingers, turning her to face him. She cupped his hand in hers and kissed his palm, like he’d done with hers so many times before.

  “Where?” she asked, feeling the heaviness from knowing what his answer would be.

  “I have to,” he said, pressing his hand to her middle. His eyes looked wild to her, reflecting the bleak images on the screen, scaring her. But his eyes also carried in them a strange attraction that she found irresistible. It was power and authority for a destiny he had total control over. Beyond the stresses of the moment, his beautiful blues gleamed with something more than wild power; they looked protective, even nurturing.

  “Where, Justin?” she yelled at him, not caring who in the cafeteria heard her. He turned away, looking up at the outside world projected on the wall, and for a moment she thought he was looking for a place to die on one of the barren hills. Tabitha began to plead with him, pulling on his coveralls. More questioning eyes looked their way, but she barely saw the attention being drawn to them. She grabbed Justin’s face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Where?” She couldn’t be sure what it was that he saw on the screen’s projection, but his expression was clearer. The forked red lines stressing the whites of his eyes had faded, and the wildness of ideas seemed to have been tamed.

  “I think I know what to do,” he answered, and motioned toward the sheriff’s office. Tabitha planted her feet firmly where they stood, reluctant to approach the offices until she’d heard more of his idea. “We know the mayor and sheriff and the deputy,” he added. “They’ll help, we’ll set this right. Trust me.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, brushing her hands over the whiskers of his unshaven face. “How can you know? How can you be certain?”

  “Because I know what the answer is.” His voice sounded flat, almost cold. “I’ve known since the first time I was asked to count the number of mouths to feed.” She tilted her head, confused, wondering how the silo’s count of people played into what his idea was. Justin knelt before her, cupping his hands between his mouth and her belly, and began to whisper. She tried to listen to what he was saying, she tried to lean in, closer, but he only lowered his voice further. When he was done talking to their baby, Justin stood up, and Tabitha saw that the wildness had returned to his eyes. He was breathing heavily, and as he took hold of her arms, his hands were trembling. She grimaced at the force of his grip, forgetting how strong he was. He responded with a small gesture, apologizing, and loosened his hands. The wildness stayed though, as did the paleness of his face. Tabitha saw sweat beading on his neck and forehead, pooling before running in streaks down his face.

  “Justin you’re scaring me. What is it?”

  “Will you love me for the rest of my life?” he asked, nodding his head in a slow, encouraging motion. He continued nodding until she nodded back to him, agreeing. “Will you, Tabbs… will you love me for the rest of my life?”

  “Always, of course,” she answered, continuing to nod her head. And before she could say another word, her husband broke free of her hold, leaving behind a dying warmth where he had touched her arms. He turned towards the wallscreen. In the doorway that led to the sheriff’s office and the airlock, she saw the deputy watching them. He wore the same investigative countenance she’d seen earlier.

  “Deputy!” Justin yelled. The deputy shifted his stance, lowering his arms, more attentive. Tabitha heard the sound of chairs scraping against the floor’s tiles, and from the corner of her eye, she saw moms and dads standing, watching. She raced to put herself between the deputy and Justin. “Deputy, there’s one too many mouths to feed in our silo!” Tabitha’s heart exploded when she heard Justin’s proclamation. This wasn’t the idea she thought he’d had in mind. This wasn’t an idea at all. It was suicide!

  “No! Justin, you can’t do this! No, I won’t let you!” Tabitha screamed. Hopes of a solution faded, crippled by Justin’s words. An unwelcome interest stirred among the cafeteria patrons. She looked over her shoulder in time to see the deputy approaching them. By now the sheriff had taken the deputy’s place in the doorway, a toothpick hanging from his lips as he looked in to see what small ruckus had stirred up his cafeteria. Tabitha swung her hands in a wide arch over her body, planting her open hands on Justin’s face, trying to cover his mouth, trying to keep him from saying any more. The sound of a fleshy smack bounced off the cafeteria walls, but Justin held his ground, pulling her hands down. Blood poured from his nose and upper lip, the warm red stains dripping between her fingers.

  “Deputy… Sheriff… there are one too many mouths to feed in the silo.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Tabitha begged as she pushed her hands onto his mouth again. “You have to stay! You have to stay and love me, Justin! Don’t do this—!” Tabitha’s heart was breaking, being crushed under the sound of the deputy’s footsteps as they grew louder and paced faster. After all, from the deputy�
�s vantage point, it had to have looked as though she’d hit her husband. Tabitha was losing the strength in her arms. They felt rubbery and heavy, and she resorted to hanging her fingers from the collar of his coveralls, all the while begging that he stop talking. When the smell of two-chit soap was near her, Tabitha pleaded, but Justin only held her and then stepped to meet the deputy.

  “I want to go outside.” Tabitha heard her husband tell the deputy. Tabitha crumpled to the floor, collapsing at his feet.

  Most of the next hour was a blur. And just like Doc had told her and Susan, in the company of friends, Justin’s sentence was going to be imposed swiftly. She heard the muffled sounds of the sheriff talking to the deputy and mayor, setting Justin’s cleaning into motion. And while Justin sat in the cell, saying nothing, staring at the floor, Tabitha couldn’t help but feel that there was something sickening about it all. How many times had they sat at a table with the leadership of the silo? How many times had they laughed and joked, passing one another on the way to and from their offices, and the cafeteria, and now the airlock? Yet, the discussion on this day was limited to a recitation of step-by-step instructions, so that her husband could clean the blur that had stained their view of the outside world—and then die.

  “It’s okay, Tabbs,” Justin whispered. Her arm had grown numb from pressing through the holding cell’s long metal bars. She gave him a quick, reassuring grin, but it was brief, leaving him to look upon her face as it was: broken. “It’ll be over soon.” She wanted to scream at him. Scream at everyone as the rage inside her swallowed every emotion, every word. Tabitha could only shake her head, looking upon the porthole in the yellow airlock door, watching it stare back at them, waiting to be addressed.

  “It’s time,” she heard, and at once her heart fell. Justin’s face went gray then, and his breathing deepened. She watched as he swallowed hard and stood up from the bench in his cell. When the holding cell opened, and the bars separating them disappeared, Tabitha took hold of Justin’s coveralls. She was crying again; the soreness in her eyes was accompanied by muscle aches across her chest and back. She pulled on Justin’s coveralls, gripping the blood-stained fabric between her hands until the smell of two-chit soap was on her again and she felt the tickle of the deputy’s mustache brush against her ear.

  “Tabitha, dear. Come on now. Let the techs do their work,” he asked her. She didn’t turn around, but instead kept her eyes fixed on Justin’s, a storm of fears racing in his expression. She saw him searching the office, and the holding cell, the screen on the wall, and then the open airlock, as new faces greeted him and instructed him on what to do and where to step. Hands were on him next, leading him away from her, and Tabitha felt the first of many cramps… small twinges and then heavier ones, causing her to put a hand to her side.

  “Babe, are you okay? The baby?” Justin asked, his voice booming over the procession of tech workers pulling and pushing on his body, preparing him. She nodded to him, reaching her hand over someone’s shoulder, grabbing at Justin’s fingers until their hands locked. As more cleaning lab techs circled around Justin, preparing him for the hazard suit, she kept her eyes on his, relying on that magic she’d used so many times before, talking to him without saying a word.

  “I know this is difficult,” the deputy told her. She was vaguely aware that his hands were still on her. He’d gripped her loosely around her hips, keeping her from Justin, preventing her from interrupting the execution of a cleaning. “Justin has made his decision. He made the call, and we’re obligated to fulfill it.”

  “It took the two of us to make a baby,” she said in a clipped tone. “There’s nothing agreeable about this. Nothing.” Listening to what she’d said, the mayor stepped closer to the deputy, watching as the techs readied Justin.

  “There is never anything agreeable about a cleaning, but that’s how the silo makes angels, dear,” she said. Her voice was old and cracked, cutting into the air.

  Tabitha winced when another cramp hit her and turned into a small burn, cursing her side before subsiding. What if I lose the baby, she thought, but the short burst of pain was already fading. What happened from this point on didn’t matter. Justin had already spoken the forbidden words, condemning himself irrevocably by voicing them aloud in a public place for all to hear, including the sheriff and deputy. But if their baby died, then there’d be another cleaning soon after his, as she’d join Justin up on the hillside, draping a dying arm over his lifeless body.

  Anger stirred within her as she listened to the mayor going on about the reasons for their laws, the importance of enforcing them with expedience and without debate. Alongside the baby growing inside her, innocent and pure, there was something else growing too—something sinister and bitter, and she found herself embracing it. Tabitha saw a path to something more, something beyond losing Justin.

  “He’s ready to be put to cleaning now.”

  The words hung in the air, stinging her ears. She felt winded, as if somehow poison gases had leaked in from the outside, crippling her ability to breathe. She turned in time to see the small group of techs, shuffling their feet, closing around Justin and directing him towards the airlock. When he was inside, she watched him instinctively reach for the bar over his head, hanging his weight from it while a tech lifted one of his feet.

  Another tech pushed up the suit’s white material, talking at a rapid pace about an upgraded spray-on lining, but Justin seemed to hear none of it. And while she saw an occasional nod of his head—agreeing to the instructions for cleaning the silo’s camera lenses—he stayed with Tabitha, using their magic to share the thoughts conveyed by the connection of their eyes on one another. She saw the fear in his face disappear. He wasn’t afraid. His expression was loving and kind and forgiving of what was about to happen to him. She saw it in his posture, too: resolute and brave, preparing to do what he was tasked to do. As sickening as the sentiment was, Tabitha couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of pride.

  When the airlock door closed, and all she could see was his gloved hand on the porthole, Tabitha’s legs became clumsy sticks, rigid, unmoving, and yet barely able to hold her up. She leaned up against the door, and peered into the airlock, pressing her hand on the porthole. Her breathing was rapid and watery, creating condensation on the thick glass.

  “Touch your belly!” she heard Justin scream from within the closed room. His words sounded far away and muffled. “Touch our baby!” She understood, and pushed a hand to where there’d been fluttering commotions for most of the day. Justin’s hand stayed with hers on the thick glass, joining their family together one last time. She closed her eyes, breathing for a count of numbers like Justin would be doing soon, trying to relax the tenseness from her muscles. When a flutter came, she barked a laugh, smiling to the airlock, bouncing her hand against the glass. But the sound of the argon gas rushing into the chamber cut short their final moment, driving Justin away from the airlock door.

  “Not yet!” she yelled. Her voice was hoarse. “Please, not yet!”

  “It’s time,” she heard again. “After the gas is flushed, the outside door will open automatically.”

  The room they’d been in for the last hour emptied as light from the outside pierced the airlock porthole. Maybe it was respect for her privacy or maybe it was the dead pixels on the holding cell’s wallscreen, but everyone raced to the cafeteria. There they’d watch Justin on the massive screen. They’d watch his cleaning, and then they’d watch him find a spot atop one of the hills where he’d remain for an eternity. Tabitha stayed behind, refusing to leave, refusing to watch. She removed her hand from the porthole, and dared to look into the bright light. She saw her husband a final time. He backed away from the porthole window, his white hazard suit turning black, silhouetted against the outside. Within a few steps, she could no longer make out the upside-down numbers on his chest. He stepped forward once more, his motion awkward as he waved and then turned to begin his last journey. When he stepped outside, a brilliant light flooded
the holding room, searing her vision. But Tabitha refused to blink; she refused to turn away, owing it to him to keep her eyes open as long as there was a glimpse of him to see. When the doors to the outside world closed and the sound of rushing flames burned the airlock clean, Tabitha dropped to sit on the floor, leaning her back against the cold steel. She finally closed her eyes then, seeing green and orange after-images: Justin’s ghost floating in her burned eyes.

  Listening to the sounds of the men and women in the cafeteria, Tabitha stopped crying. She put away Justin’s love, hiding it deep inside her where no silo law could find it. She felt cold and hard, like the steel door that held back the life inside the silo. For a moment she thought she could just as easily open the airlock, inviting in certain death from the outside. A part of her wanted to do it. A part of her wanted to end it all, but the baby Justin put inside her held a place in the world he left behind. If nothing else today, she’d learned that nobody’s life was hers to take away.

  “He’s a good cleaner… isn’t he? And he’s following my instructions!” she heard a tech yell out from the cafeteria. More of Justin’s last moments were called out, shared among the small crowd that gathered for the late-day cleaning. And though she listened, she chose to think of the night they’d made love, the night she felt sure that their baby was conceived. They’d laid next to one another, naked and fresh from a shower together; playful teasing had quickly escalated into a moment of letting go. “It was wonderful, Justin,” she muttered, her heart warming as she thought of how he’d held her afterward. She wrapped her arm around their baby, wondering if this was what was meant to be. Maybe there was a bigger cause beginning, and she thought of the lottery system and other couples and the endless counting of mouths to feed.