RITE OF REVELATION
by Sarah Negovetich
Amazon Edition © 2015 Sarah Negovetich
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www.SarahNegovetich.com
This one's for Ed, for being my first real fan and reminding me to dream big.
Other books by Sarah Negovetich
Rite of Rejection (Acceptance, Book 1)
Rite of Redemption (Acceptance, Book 3)
One
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Territories, before you stands the future.”
My speech from yesterday plays on a continuous loop in my head; a constant reminder of my failure. We hijacked the Acceptance ceremony and told everyone about how the Cardinal locks people away in the Permanent Isolation Territory in a misguided attempt to create a perfect society. I thought it would make a difference. I imagined the people rising up and demanding a change. In a dream I didn’t dare speak aloud, Daniel and I would finally have a chance to be together.
I was wrong.
No one came for us except guards with shock sticks and bags to cover our heads.
Daniel’s face was the last thing I saw before the world went black. He smiled at me in the way that only Daniel can, and even with the chaos and angry shouts of guards surrounding us, my heart stuttered a moment. The image of his beautiful face was burned into my mind until guards took the hood off my head here in Quarantine.
My brain cuts away the part of the picture where a guard shoves a hard knee into Daniel’s back and blurs out where the side of his face digs into the dusty ground. All that’s left is his timid smile and dark brown eyes pouring out more love for me than I could possibly deserve.
Long hours of the night spent staring at the bare gray walls, pacing the edge of my tiny, square cell, and wondering what happened to Daniel and all the others who stood with us in front of the camera. I told Elizabeth to run and hide with everyone else, but I have no idea if they managed to get away. I don’t know if any of the people I love are still alive, and that’s the fear that keeps me sitting in this chair without moving, without resisting. And I really want to resist. Because the alarm bells in my head haven’t stopped ringing all morning, screaming at me that this is a huge trap.
The mushy, mostly burned oats the guards brought me for breakfast sit like a sunbaked brick in my stomach. The weight keeps me firmly in the hard metal chair while two stylists try their best to make it look like I haven’t been awake for almost forty-eight hours. My face is stiff under the layers of make-up needed to cover the dark circles around my eyes. The men who’ve been chatting non-stop since they marched in with their cases full of beauty tubes and wands step back and roll their eyes over every square inch of my face. I stay perfectly still through their inspection, my thoughts focused on Daniel. I want to grab their shoulders, shake them, and demand answers. Instead, I turn my head to the left and the right like a trained house pet.
The man in charge nods his head and the other springs into action, packing up all the tools of their trade. He walks to me and snatches away the thin clips holding tiny wisps of hair off my face. He leans down to my ear and whispers, “Show time,” before rapping once on the door.
The rusted metal door creaks open and there’s Eric. The traitor who lied to us all and made certain I’d never see the outside of this prison again. I can almost hear the spring of the trap falling to catch me.
I jump from the chair as Eric steps into the cell, rubbing his raw knuckles as the stylists hustle out. “Bec—Rebecca, it’s time to go.”
I like the sound of that about as much as I like the idea of the stylists coming back in here for round two. Eric grabs my arm, but I jerk it back out of reach. His fingers flex as if he’s going to grab me again, but instead his closed fist falls to his side.
“I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers. Why all of this?” I fan my hands around my face. “Where is Daniel?”
The last question comes out barely more than a whisper. We hacked into the Acceptance ceremony feed and took over their national broadcast. I went into yesterday’s ceremony fully expecting that my act of rebellion would earn me a swift death. I should have known better. The Cardinal has never once shown mercy.
“So the two of you…” Eric lets his question trail off as he stares at every corner of the tiny cell except where I’m standing.
“Seriously? You want to do this now?”
Eric drops his eyes to the ground, but doesn’t say a word.
“Fine. You were right. I’m in love with Daniel.” I throw my hands up and pace across the small amount of floor space. “I probably always have been. And yet, I was going to run out of here and marry you so we could all have a chance at a little bit of happiness until you ruined it for everyone. There’s your answer, now where is Daniel?”
Eric still stands motionless, staring at the floor. I kick my empty chair and it topples over, the metal frame grinding against the concrete floor. “Where is he?”
Another guard, a burly man at least a foot taller than Eric, appears in the door way. “The cameramen said we have about ten minutes until the lighting is, and I quote, ‘the perfect shade of sunset Cardinal red.’ Whatever that means. We have to get the whole thing shot in under five minutes.”
“Better iron out the details here.” Eric pulls a small Noteboard from his jacket, hesitating only slightly before he shoves it into my hands. His voice is as stiff and formal as his movements. “Tonight you will film an apology for the Cardinal.”
I stare at the screen and force my brain to focus on the words through the hot blood raging through my veins. This isn’t an apology; it’s a confession letter. They want me to retract everything I said yesterday. “Does the Cardinal think I can be bought with a bit of make-up?” I shove the Noteboard back at Eric.
“The make-up is so you can look halfway human. The Cardinal wants a contrite prisoner, not a victim, and that’s what you’re going to give him.”
“The Cardinal can take his apology letter and—”
Eric grabs my arm, his tug momentarily pulling me off balance. His grip tightens, keeping me standing and pulling me right up against his chest. I struggle against his hold, but his hand clenches tighter on my arm. “Listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.” His words are harsh, but the eyes staring into mine are tender. “If you want to make sure the people you love stay safe, you need to do exactly what I say. No questions. No hesitation.”
Eric’s words are a threat, but all I hear is that Daniel is alive. Daniel, who I love, though it took me way too long to admit it and even longer to let him love me back.
I want to trust Eric. I want to believe he regrets turning us all in. He told the Cardinal about our escape plan last year, ruined our chance to have a real life and got Molly killed. All for his fancy, red, guard jacket. He did tell me about the fence that would separate me and Elizabeth from Daniel. Yesterday, he lied to another guard so I could get away from the courtyard and meet Daniel in time to interrupt the ceremony. And he got my necklace back for me. I rub my thumb over the smooth knot against my chest. But he betrayed all of us, in the worst way imaginable.
I replay his words in my head. “People. Not person?” Not just Daniel is in danger. How many of the others?
Eric nods, but his green eyes never leave mine.
My life is mine to sacrifice and pretty much all I have left to give. Dan
iel, sweet Daniel, made his choice to stay with my sinking ship. He showed his face on camera and sealed his fate. The others were supposed to run, hide, live the rest of their lives as well as they could in the wasteland of the PIT. Elizabeth, Constance, Thomas, all those people I just met and whose names I can’t remember. They all came voluntarily, but if there’s something I can do for them, I have to.
I nod and relax the tense arm muscles under his grip. Eric tucks the Noteboard back into his jacket pocket and leads me out the door, the large guard following only a step behind. We’re a funeral march, and I’m the overly done-up corpse.
Two
Eric and the other nameless guard weave us through a maze of hallways and out into a grassy nook wedged into the middle of the Quarantine building. The building wraps like a giant U, cutting us off from the decay and desperation of the PIT. My toes itch to kick off these raggedy shoes and run barefoot through the lush green lawn. The inviting grass presents a night and day difference to the yellowish weed grass that sprouts up around the corners of the crumbling bunkhouses on the outer edges of the PIT. Several men fiddle with equipment at a picnic table off to the side, and a little fountain trickles water, creating a natural music in the background.
I can almost imagine we’re at a park back in the Territories, except for the giant barbed wire fence that cuts me off from the freedom sprawling to the west.
A third guard watches over a crew of men setting up an array of video equipment. They have several cameras, two large white screens, and a microphone attached to a long pole. This will be a far cry from yesterday’s hasty filming.
That was nothing more than Daniel and I with a stolen video camera stacked precariously on some busted crates. We were doomed from the start. Then Elizabeth showed up with Constance, Thomas, and so many others. Dozens of voices blending together to tell the story of a Machine gone wrong and a leader with too much power.
Today is the complete opposite of yesterday.
“Oh good, she’s ready.” A man from the camera crew takes my arm from Eric, holding barely a pinch of my sleeve. He maneuvers me toward the fence, drops my arm, and backs up, wiping his fingers on his crisply pressed pants. “I want her right here, facing the building. In another minute the sun is going to hit the horizon and this whole area will be awash in perfect red light.”
Eric follows us over to the fence, my tense, red-jacketed shadow, never more than a few feet away from me. The cameraman positions me just right, like I’m a department store mannequin, and then walks away to fiddle with a piece of equipment.
Now what? There’s no way I can read that message. Even if it wasn’t a complete lie, what’s to stop the Cardinal from killing me the minute I’m done? I could really use some of Daniel’s unwavering support right now. I’d even take a bit of Elizabeth’s sarcastic advice, but not if it means putting her in Quarantine.
“Is she ready with the script?” the same man, the director I guess, pipes up again. He looks up from the camera and motions to Eric.
Eric steps between me and the director, cutting off my view of everything but him. He takes the Noteboard back out of his pocket and hands it over, gently this time.
“Resist.”
His whispered voice is lost in the noise around us. I must have misheard him. He’s so close I have to crane my neck to see his face. I find his eyes and they plead with me. “Resist.”
No mistaking it this time. I nod, and Eric steps back into position at my side. The director waves him out of the shot with a sharp flick of his wrist and yells for quiet. As the voices around us fade out, he points at me.
“I won’t read this.” Our outdoor studio is completely silent, but even I can barely hear my whispered words.
“I can’t hear her.” The director points at Eric without taking his eyes off the camera. “Tell her she needs to be louder.”
It’s like I’m not even here. Eric steps closer and leans down to speak directly into my ear. “You can do this. Give them the Rebecca from yesterday.”
Eric moves back into position. I barely recognize the girl from yesterday. That feels like a lifetime ago. The director points to me again, and I’m out of time.
“I’m not reading this, and you can’t make me.” I sound like a petulant child refusing to eat her vegetables. The bustle of the camera crew stops and all eyes fly to me and then the director. I have no idea what to do next, but Eric said to resist. Time to sell it.
I fling the Noteboard back at Eric and he grabs it seconds before it smashes against the plush green grass. For good measure I stomp my foot and cross my arms. Eric covers up a loud, harsh cough that I’m pretty sure was really a laugh. So much for selling it, but I’m committed at this point. What else do I have to lose…except everything.
“I mean it. The Cardinal can beat me, starve me, and kill me if he wants, but he can’t make me lie to the people out there.” I gesture toward the fence. Saying it out loud makes it more real, and the words come out louder, stronger. “I won’t lie. He’s done quite enough of that for the both of us.”
The tall guard who followed us out of my cell bangs on the door we came through with the heal of his open hand. He marches over until he’s right in my face, but doesn’t touch me. “Unfortunately for me, with that little stunt you pulled yesterday, the Cardinal needs you in one piece. Trust me when I say there’s nothing I’d like more than to slap that smug defiance off your face.”
The door swings open and a fourth guard stands in the doorway.
The guard in my face grabs my chin so I can’t see what’s going on. “Unfortunately for you, the Cardinal doesn’t care what that one’s face looks like.”
He shoves my chin away and marches back to where the director stands waiting.
The fourth guard walks out the door, dragging a man behind him, his dark arms pulled tight in an awkward angle against his back. There’s a sack over his head, but I know it’s Daniel. No one else could walk with their head held high and their back straight while being led around like a dog on a leash.
The guard jerks him to a stop, and Daniel lets out a moan as he stumbles against the sharp motions. The sack is ripped off his head, and I let out my own moan as I fall to my knees. His face is bloodied and bruised and one of his eyes is swollen shut.
“Get her up and back into position.”
Eric lifts me back to my feet, but my eyes don’t leave Daniel’s beaten face.
“What did you do to him?”
“I’m going to lose my light if we don’t get moving here,” the director shouts at everyone and no one in particular.
The awful guard shouts from where he stands by the antsy director. He doesn’t have to get in my face to scare me now. “That’s only the beginning of his pain if you don’t get in front of that camera right now.”
The guard with Daniel punches him in the stomach and he falls down on all fours. The guard’s boot connects with his nose and blood oozes out onto the soft, green grass.
“Stop, please stop.” Screams rip from my throat and my fingers tug at the short tufts of hair behind my ears. Lumpy oatmeal from breakfast threatens to come back.
“Keep refusing and we’ll beat him more, and then we’ll beat him again. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll round up the rest of your little Reject friends and beat them.” The guard spits his words at me, the truth of them written all over his face.
I search the crew for a single sympathetic face, but they’re more concerned with adjusting their equipment than the bloodied man bent over in the middle of the grass. Their eyes glaze right over the both of us. The director refuses to speak to me. We are non-entities.
My heart morphs into lead and sinks down into the pit of my stomach. They don’t care. Nothing we did yesterday changed anything. I rub at the knotted pendant on my chest. My words, the source of my power against the Cardinal, fell on deaf ears.
“Give her the script.”
Eric positions himself between me and the director again and hands me the Noteb
oard. Cardinal help me, I’m going to do this. They’ll probably kill us both, but I can’t stand here and watch them torture Daniel.
The words on the screen stare back at me like a taunt, except there is a new line that wasn’t there just a moment ago.
Daniel is fine. Read slow.
It takes all my strength not to hurl the Noteboard back at Eric again. Daniel is not fine. Just look at him, barely able to hold his head up. Or not. His head bobs up and down, ever so slightly. Is he nodding? My fingers grip the edge of the board and I follow Daniel’s movements like a hawk staring down its prey. Again, his head lifts slightly and then lowers, but it’s a controlled movement, not a collapse.
I know better than most that words have power, but I refuse to let these words have power over me. Saying them doesn’t make them true. I nod, a strong imitation of Daniel, and turn to face the camera.
The video crew, frozen while they waited to see if I’d throw another fit, scurries into action. They move the white screens into position, flanking the camera in a V to reflect the red light put off by the setting sun. The microphone rests only a foot or two over my head.
“Let’s have quiet.” The director lifts one hand up and peeks down behind the camera. “And…go.” His hand drops and points directly at me.
I have the words on the Noteboard memorized, but the Cardinal’s lies don’t have a hold on me anymore. I clear my throat and stare right at the camera with all the defiance I can muster. “Ladies and gentlemen of the Territories. My name is Rebecca Collins, and I am a Reject.”
Three
Banging erupts to my left. Everyone stops to stare, though all we can see is the wall of the Quarantine building.
“Keep going,” the director yells from behind the camera. “I can edit that out later.”
Rite of Revelation (Acceptance Book 2) Page 1