“I’m finally going to head to Samson now,” I say while putting on a fake smile and trying to pretend like everything is okay.
Before I can get away, he pulls me by the hand back into him. He kisses me soundly, running his thumb over my lips when he’s done. “Give me time, gorgeous. Don’t doubt me.”
I wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his chest. “Doubting you wasn’t an issue.”
“Good,” he says, kissing me on the forehead.
“By the way, why did you snap at Taggert like that and ask him if he really understood?” I ask, looking up at him and remembering his comment. Taggert is married, right?
He shrugs, “He married his wife because he had to, and had the minimum amount of kids because he had to. Thank God those kids were boys too. If it were up to Taggert though, he probably wouldn’t have done either of those things. He’s married first and foremost to his job. He sleeps at DIA just as often as he does at home.” He thinks a moment then adds, “To be fair, he likes his wife now. But based on his actions and demeanor, he just doesn’t care for her a fraction of what I care for you. He’s indifferent whereas you…” He pauses to half-smile. “You consume me.”
I think about that and can only manage to say, “Oh.”
“Now, go get to work, gorgeous.” He grins at me and gives me one of those winks that do things to my hormones.
I real smile this time and blush a little as I head for Samson.
As I leave, all I think of is that although the Culling has been a roller coaster of a ride, at least at the end of this I will be married to someone I love and respect. How many other couples in the State are together because it is law to get married? The thought of being in a marriage and having children because I am forced to just ticks me off. There is so much still wrong with this country. We take a few steps forward, followed by a hundred back. Did we learn nothing from our mistakes pre-Trident?
Chapter 16
My session with Samson takes three hours, and then Jamie tells me Bennett needs me in sims. I’m annoyed because there’s a lot of other stuff going on, but I head in his direction to get it over with. I still have to get with Dougall later too. Today is a long day.
“Ready for your final sim?” he asks me excitedly as I grab my glasses and gun out of my locker.
“I guess,” I shrug, “I haven’t had much time to really think about it.”
“I know you are busy, Ms. Scott, especially this week, but everyone else is going tomorrow and Wednesday, so I thought you and Lyncoln would want to go ahead and get it over with. Especially since you are both so close in the sim rankings.”
He has a point. I nod. “That was nice of you.”
Of course they won’t give Lyncoln and me special privileges because of this mission. We still have to do all our Culling duties. Lyncoln and I have a significant lead in the top shot competition too. Henry was leading for a while but being paired with Marisol has really put a damper on that. We are enough ahead that we all know it will either be Lyncoln or me that wins it.
“And here he is,” Bennett smiles as Lyncoln arrives, looking as annoyed as I feel. “Go on in. Should be no longer than an hour.”
Lyncoln grabs his gun and glasses, and we head into the simulator.
“Dibs on shooting the turkey,” I joke as we wait for our sim to begin.
“Not a chance,” Lyncoln smirks then adds, “Not that you could hit it if you tried, Regs.”
I roll my eyes and pretend to be mad at him. No, I can’t shoot a gun as good as he can, but I am pretty darn good at it now. Our rankings for the top shot prove it.
Our sim begins, the room transforming around us. It’s an outdoor scene and a typical one at that: find the bad guys, shoot the bad guys before getting shot. Not long into it, I almost take a shot to the arm, though I, of course, feel nothing. It snaps me out of my bad attitude and reminds me to focus on this sim. Being at the top with Lyncoln, it would suck to lose to him right at the end like this.
Lyncoln and I take shot after shot, glancing at one another and smiling as we don’t miss. Neither one of us will back down. Both of us want to win this stupid thing. And it’s a pretty nice stress reliever too. I know exactly what to do in sims by this point. It’s refreshing with all the unknowns of the outside world. In here I know what I’m doing, whereas outside of this room, I rarely do.
At one point, we end up behind a sim tree while we shoot around both sides of it at the bad guys. It reminds me of our first kiss when we were doing the paintball competition.
I reach around and shoot two guys before hiding back behind the tree again. I quietly say over my shoulder to Lyncoln, “You have a bad track record with trees and me. Do try to contain yourself. You can’t afford to be distracted or I may end up winning this.”
His back is to mine but I know he’s smiling. “Smack talk, Regs? Is that smack talk I hear?”
“I would never.”
He snorts.
We move to shoot and look at one another. Behind the super ridiculous glasses, I see the same resolve in his eyes that I feel. He wants to win.
He grins. “I don’t have time for smack talk. I have to win this first, and later we can discuss how distracting you are.” He winks at me, looking at me that way that makes me feel dizzy.
I blush and hesitate a moment while he takes out three guys, one being the one I was aiming for. Jerk. He knew just how to get under my skin so he could take my shots.
Oh no he didn’t.
For the next fifteen minutes, I become a killing machine, refusing to even look Lyncoln’s direction. It’s stupid to be so competitive about this, but I don’t care. I don’t like losing. I never have. And if I have to lose later in the week, I don’t want to lose this too.
We are just finishing up clearing out our sim when we hear a man approaching us from the other direction. Lyncoln aims his gun as the man comes into view. Something doesn’t seem right, so I grab his arm. He’s already dropping his gun by the time I grab him, sensing it too.
We look to each other confused. The man is a long way off, but the way that man moves isn’t like a sim man. It is very… life-like, not at all computerized looking. As he comes closer, it’s clear he isn’t part of the sim at all.
What’s going on here? They put a real person in our sim?! Holy crap.
As we both drop our guns, the sim stops and returns back to the rubbery-looking room. We are standing before Bennett, who is dressed in simulator bad guy clothes with a hat pulled down over his face so it was harder to tell who it was. He actually was in our sim.
What. The. Heck. That’s crazy!
“This last sim was to see if you could pick out the real within the fake reality you are accustomed to. This sim, in particular, is a tradition of being the last sim,” he smiles. “Congratulations, you passed.”
“Are you mad, Bennett?” Lyncoln asks, shaking his head. “I could have shot you in the head.”
“But you didn’t,” he smiles. “And your guns have pellets, not bullets, if you remember correctly. The most you would have done is knock me on my arse.” He chuckles at that but then gets more serious and adds, “It’s easy to become used to something. Complacent. In this case, you were used to the sim and used to the bad guys being fake. So you had to remember that when firing a weapon you could be hitting a real person, with a pellet or otherwise. As your professor, I hope you continue to always think out of the box. Never get too comfortable. Never be too predictable. Never be complacent. That goes for if you are the next Presidential Couple, or not.”
Lyncoln smirks. “How deep of you, Bennett.”
“Just doing my job,” he smiles with his arms outreached for emphasis.
“Well next time save your own arse and just send us a real turkey instead of a sim one,” I joke as the three of us take off our glasses and head for the door.
Bennett laughs. “Then you two would have failed for sure. There isn’t a chance that turkey would have made it out alive, pellet guns
considered.”
I giggle but Lyncoln is not to be deterred. “So who won?” He purposefully walks out of the sim room and over to the ranking screen in the viewing area.
I’m right on his heels but know I’ll be able to tell from his reaction if I won or not. Bennett doesn’t say a word, just watches us with a silly look on his face.
Lyncoln turns and looks at me. The way he looks at me with raw cocky manpower tells me everything I need to know. But that one little smirk he does pisses me off juuust a little.
He won.
We say goodbye to Bennett and head down the hallway to get back to work. Lyncoln still hasn’t said a word to me. And that’s somehow worse. He’s letting me steep in my loss.
“So,” I smile, grabbing ahold of one of his biceps. “Did you want to have that talk about how distracting I am? Because apparently not distracting enough.”
He shakes his head amused. “Later. Definitely later.” But after he says it, he leans in to kiss me on the forehead while we keep walking for the elevator.
“I mean, I lost to an assassin. You’ve been training for six years and me for three months. So if I had to lose, at least I know the odds were stacked against me to begin with. It’s my first loss of the Culling though,” I explain with a deep breath. I hate losing. Even to him.
He nods, grinning, head tilted cockily. “At least you’ll be married to a winner. And with the whole ‘what’s yours is mine’ thing, and with us being engaged, that’s practically the same thing.”
I glare at him. “Not funny.”
He laughs before his eyes get a bit more dangerous. “Don’t worry. I’m definitely marrying a winner, Regs. Definitely.”
Knowing that look well, I do the only logical thing I can think of… which is sprint for the elevator.
“Again? I can catch you, you know,” Lyncoln reminds me while Jamie laughs behind us.
I slow down just long enough to turn to look at him and say, “Prove it.”
He rolls his eyes and then before I can even blink, all 220 pounds of trained military assassin are barreling at me.
I squeal, half in enjoyment of the show I’m feasting my eyes upon, and half in terror. I kick it into high gear and turn to sprint towards the elevator though I know I’m doomed. It’s no use. I’m not quick enough. In mere seconds, I feel his hands on my waist right before he flings me over one of his shoulders like it was child’s play. He’s not even out of breath.
And I’m not even mad I lost.
By the time we make it to the elevator, we are both laughing. We may not win the Culling, but today we are at least both winners.
****
We have dinner with the other couples. I don’t have much time to chitchat with Lyncoln afterward because it’s Monday and we have to watch ourselves on television again. So, unfortunately, I haven’t had the time or asked the right questions to figure out what’s bothering him. Does it have something to do with our families or Henry? Maybe even Hadenfelt himself? Surely not, he would tell me if that were it.
I just can’t put my finger on it! I know he said to give him two weeks, but I wish I could discreetly figure out what it is before then so I can understand why he’s all moody. I am going to be one psycho, hormonal woman by the end of this two weeks.
My thoughts are interrupted as the blue screen on the television in my room comes to life and we see Dougall. Sitting on my bed propped up on a bunch of pillows, I snuggle up to Lyncoln as she begins giving a speech about the remaining candidates and how it is our duty to vote the best couple into office. She says that the videos we are about to see highlight our political stances, strengths and weaknesses, along with images from the Culling and tour.
Attie and Knox are first. While we hear part of their speeches and answers to questions, we see pictures of Attie and Knox in the Culling. In one picture, it’s the night of the masquerade ball and the attack. As they show Attie and Knox standing in a circle, I see myself standing by Henry. You can’t tell from the picture, but I know he had his arm around me. It seems like a million lifetimes ago yet was really a little under two months ago.
In addition to the pictures and parts of our speeches, our professors highlight our strengths and weaknesses in a voiceover, each one saying something by the end. Even the weaknesses, like Attie’s “being sensitive”, don’t sound like a weakness. The weaknesses are worded in a way that makes it sound like a strength. So basically, the videos make us look dang good.
Elizabeth and Maverick are next. They have the most amazing pictures as they are both very obviously photogenic. The videos on each couple are at least five to ten minutes a piece, but I don’t mind. It’s great getting to see our experience in the Culling through pictures. And the pictures are of good times, not bad ones.
In watching their video, I can’t help but compare Maverick and Lyncoln. Both are extremely attractive men, Lyncoln just has a darkness to him that is obvious in his demeanor, in the way he carries himself. That and so much confidence oozing from his body that you can’t help but be intimidated, even if he’s smiling. For whatever reason, I think that makes him even more attractive than Maverick is. Lyncoln’s scars make him a better person, inside and out.
We are third. The first picture that pops up is of Lyncoln and me, taken on the night of the first interview. We are looking at one another, not at the camera. We look very happy and… in love. That was right before we knew about Marisol and Henry and I had just picked Lyncoln over Henry. Things were so much simpler in those few hours between my decision and its aftermath. Before I knew of the ramifications for delaying my decision.
I hear my own voice as different pictures pop up and I try to remember when it was I said a lot of the things. I hear a few lines of the speech I gave at Oliver’s funeral. I am surprised by that. Later they even show a picture of our group project, Oliver included. My heart aches seeing him alive and well. I swallow the lump in my throat and watch on.
I’m surprised by two more of the pictures shown. In one, I’m in Detroit holding little Natalie Zimmer before her mom found us. I have dirt on my white dress and am walking with a bunch of people, looking off into the distance. I know I was looking towards where Lyncoln was, willing him to be safe. The other picture that surprises me is from the Thanksgiving feast. I am bending over to help up the little boy that was plowed over. My purple dress is all around me and I am smiling at the little boy while he smiles back. These are pictures of me helping people, people I don’t even know. I’d like to think they explain me far better than the posed ones of me in a perfect dress with perfect hair.
They show dozens of more images, as well as the video of our proposal, which make tears sting my eyes again. They also show a video of Lyncoln in a training exercise, and you can really see the intensity with which he does his job. I’m glad they showed that one.
My favorite picture may be a picture of the paintball night, a picture of Lyncoln and me about to sneak into our ally’s territory, before the Grady incident of course. That was the night Lyncoln stole my first kiss to let me know how he felt about me. The night everything changed.
Bennett’s voice comes on while the pictures continue. He talks about our training in the Culling, saying, “Together, there isn’t anything those two can’t do. They cover one another’s weaknesses and magnify the strengths. It’s remarkable really. I’ve never seen anything quite like this combination in a couple in a position of power.”
Zax adds, “They both have a keen sense of logic which comes from their remarkable intelligence levels.”
And Dougall finishes with, “Reagan’s only fault is that she is a perfectionist, demanding more out of herself than we ever demanded out of her. Lyncoln’s fault is that because he has had a bit of a rough life, he is very protective. He throws himself into dangerous situations being so, taking it upon himself personally to protect those he cares about.”
At the end is a huge chunk of the video from our Friday interview, including what the others said about us.
Then it cuts back to us. Lyncoln has his arm around me and is looking at me concerned while I say, “I’m just not done yet. I feel like I have more work to do.” And that is the end of our portion of the broadcast.
“Wow,” I whisper as Lyncoln kisses my forehead. Before we have time to talk about ourselves and how awesome they made us seem, it cuts to Marisol and Henry.
The good and hopeful feeling I feel having watched our portion leaves as quickly as it came while we watch theirs. Not surprising, there aren’t as many pictures of them. None from those first two balls because Henry didn’t even speak to her then. So lots of pictures are of them wearing the same outfits.
Every one of the pictures depress me. In every single picture… no dimples. His smile isn’t genuine, it’s forced, and it reminds me of his current situation. I keep watching, hoping in just one picture to see his real smile, but I never do. Hearing Marisol gush over her love for Henry doesn’t help. I wish we could just lock up Marisol and her dad and be done with all this stupidity.
Freaking Hadenfelts.
At the end, the President gives a small speech about all of us and our accomplishments. Then the television screen goes back to a plain blue one.
We each had ten minutes to shine. Our video made us look good, but was it enough? Comparatively?
I guess we’ll know on Friday.
****
Tuesday is an incredibly long day at DIA. The other couples are all getting informed and brought in on the basics of Red Hawk. Marisol and Henry, of course, are given limited information but know that we will be trying to get some drifter leaders. Lyncoln is off training his combat team and doing Lyncoln things. Samson and I are in interrogation all day with Taggert for two main reasons, the first of which is the sketches and making sure we can take down someone of value in this whole messy plan, and the second of which is the tablet Samson will have in his possession to maintain contact with us after the mission is over with, successful or otherwise.
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 22