He knows. Somehow, he knows.
Before an Imposer can stop him, Digory steps up to the microphone. “I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, Prefect Thorn, and I look forward to doing my people proud by showing you just exactly what I’m capable of!”
The crowd erupts into applause, only this time it feels natural, not coerced. Next to me, Mrs. Bledsoe is clapping, mindless of the blood-stained handkerchief smearing her hands. Even Cole joins in, not knowing why he’s clapping, I’m sure, but sensing the surge of emotion around him.
My hands burn, and I look down to see my palms colliding, over and over again.
Cassius swipes his own hands in the air as if he’s trying to erase the crowd’s existence. Eventually, it has the desired effect. The applause flows to a trickle, then to a couple of drops before fading a few uncomfortable beats later.
Cassius’s hands drop to his sides. “It is truly wonderful to behold the enthusiasm of the civic-minded. It appears we may have our first fan favorite.” He laughs. “But I caution you that stockpiling one’s faith in the guise of an individual will certainly lead to disappointment. The only entity one can truly depend on is the Establishment. To think otherwise, well … is not very prudent.”
His words cast a pall over the spark Digory had ignited. On the monitors, shoulders that only moments ago stood tall and proud return to their ingrained slouches. Faces turn toward the ground, feet take a few steps back. Cassius’s time away from the Parish has served him well. He knows how to play the game, preserve the status quo.
But Cass, my wonderful Cass, surely he still occupies a room inside this stranger’s body? It’s all for show. Remember what he said. He wants to change things. I have faith that he’ll do the right thing.
“And now,” he continues, “I present to you the final plebe on this year’s Recruitment Day!”
For the last time, the displays come alive with sounds and color. My muscles tense. I find Mrs. Bledsoe’s hand and entwine my fingers with hers, squeezing so hard I’m afraid I’m going to crack some bone. My forehead slumps into Cole’s.
He smiles. “Maybe they’ll pick you to win this time, ’cause you’re so lucky !”
“Maybe.” My voice is hoarse; my stomach muscles twist.
I have faith in Cass. I have faith in Cass. I have faith in Cass.
I’m not sure if it’s on purpose, but this time the shuffling of faces on the screens seems to go on forever. I can’t stand it anymore. All I want to do is grab Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe, bolt out of this room, and forget this place, forget this day …
But I can’t get Digory’s face out of my mind, and I feel ashamed. He’s standing on that platform probably more frightened than he’s ever been, but you’d never tell by looking at him. And here I am, being a coward when I have Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe depending on me.
The flashing stops and a face appears. I shut my eyes before I can make out who it is, holding on to normalcy for one more desperate moment. My teeth dig into my lower lip.
I pry my eyelids open to face my worst fears.
Ten
My captive breath bursts free. The face that fills the square isn’t mine. It’s not even male.
“Desiree Morningside!” Cassius’s voice echoes through the square. “You have been chosen! Join your fellow Recruits on the podium!”
It takes a few moments for the words to sink in. Then relief washes over me like the first spring shower, whisking away the anxiety that racks my body. My knees buckle and I lean into Mrs. Bledsoe to steady myself.
“They couldn’t have you, too,” she says. Her eyes mist over and she clutches me.
Cole nudges my cheek with his nose. “Don’t be sad you didn’t get picked,” he whispers in my ear.
I choke back my emotions and squeeze them both.
A live shot of the faces of the first four Recruits to be selected occupies the four corners of one of the screens. Ophelia, twisting her head to and fro as if she’s still not sure where she is. Gideon, stern, his eyes shifting around him as if he’s studying every minute detail and committing it to memory. Cypress, looking bored, as if she has more important things she’d rather be doing with her time. And finally, Digory, his mouth curved into a huge, dimpled grin, his eyes staring right at me, through me.
I guess it’s just the front he’s putting up, the bravado in standing up to Cassius and the Establishment.
Because otherwise I can’t think why this last selection would make him so happy.
And then the stream of relief I’ve been feeling is contaminated by the dread of what I know lies before him, emphasizing how fleeting true bliss is in the Parish. I look at the empty space in the center of the screen where the live shot of the fifth and final Recruit should be plastered. It seems what little happiness one can wring free of life always comes at someone else’s expense.
“Desiree Morningside.” Cassius’s voice knifes through my brain. “Come forward and take your place at once.”
I set Cole on the ground. My eyes connect with Mrs. Bledsoe’s, now drained of any traces of joy.
“What’s going on? Where is she?” Mrs. Bledsoe asks.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
The cameras swoosh through the square and the restless crowd in search of a live shot of Desiree. But she eludes the spotlight. Her still image is superimposed on the lower right corner of the jumbotrons’ live feed. I stare at the short banged hair, sad brown eyes, thin lips—it’s hard to picture her as a deserter, on the lam for openly defying the draft. My chest tightens. What’s happened to her? And what effect will her absence have on this ceremony?
I lean into Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe. “Stay here.”
Forcing myself to move, I walk toward Cass. Before I can get more than a couple of feet, Valerian and another Imp block my path.
I clear my throat. “Ca … uh … Prefect Thorn? Is everything all right?”
His only response is the raising of his hand, signaling me to stay back. Valerian sidles up to him and whispers in his ear.
Movement on the jumbotrons distracts me. There seems to be some commotion going on in the plaza. Someone screams. The camera swoops around and zooms into the alcove underneath the sentinel gargoyle where I’d met with Digory. Bystanders swarm the spot. Through the pall cast by the gargoyle’s shadow, a pale hand on the ground weeps a trail of darkness which forms into a murky puddle on the cobblestones. The feed flickers and cuts to black, replaced by the official government seal.
“We should go now,” Mrs. Bledsoe whispers, behind me.
I can’t take my eyes off Cassius. Valerian is doing all the talking and he’s just nodding. Finally, she clicks her boots together, salutes, and exits the balcony. The aides move in for few more minutes of conferring before they, too, fade into the background.
Cassius leans into the podium, raising his arms. “Citizens of the Parish, it appears an unfortunate situation has arisen. It has come to my attention that our final candidate will be unable to perform her obligation as a Recruit. Regrettably, she has exhibited a deficiency of character and has decided to take the coward’s way out, rather than accept the penalty for not fulfilling her responsibilities.”
Coward’s way out? The hand lying in that pool of blood …
Desiree Morningside ended her own life, rather than take part in the Recruitment.
Or did she?
Cassius clears his throat. “As Parish Prefect, it now falls to me to delegate a replacement candidate to assume the vacated slot.” He lowers his head. “Believe me when I say this is a decision that I do not make lightly. Since coming back to the Parish, the place where I grew up and experienced my fondest memories, I’ve had the opportunity to reconnect with old friends, friends who have been more like family to me over the years.”
Hearing him speak this way, I can almost believe his aloof recounting of Desiree’s t
ragic demise is all for the benefit of his superiors. It has to be. The Cassius that I know would never be so cold and indifferent to the loss of an innocent girl’s life. But is this all just a memory I’m desperately holding on to?
Cassius finally turns to me. There’s a trace of a smile on his face, but it’s tainted by the glistening reflections in his eyes. The last time he looked at me like this was when he left two years ago to join the Service.
When he thought we’d never see each other again.
He stretches out his hand, beckoning me. “Perhaps my dearest friends of all are here today with me now … Lucian Spark and his family.”
I’m stunned, frozen in place. Government officials in particular are discouraged from fraternizing with the rest of us common folk. For Cassius, a newly appointed Prefect, to recognize our relationship publicly like this, and risk damaging his fragile reputation, is a bold move.
Too bold.
As he motions me forward again, his hand hangs in the air, palm open …
… just like Desiree Morningside’s.
I lock my joints against the tremors.
Stop it. This is Cassius.
Before I lose my nerve, I stride over to him, Mrs. Bledsoe and I holding Cole’s hands between us. Cassius edges up to me and places an arm around my shoulders. I catch a glimpse of the Recruits’ faces still plastered on the screens. All but Digory are staring up at Cassius.
“Lucian and I have been friends, best friends, since we were children. We always told each other everything, shared all our secrets, as children do.” He gives my shoulder a hard squeeze.
Cole points to one of the screens. “Look, Lucky! That’s us!”
“Sssh!” His hand feels warm against my icy one.
“Upon returning to the Parish,” Cassius continues, “ I made the sad discovery that as children do indeed grow up, regrettably, so do the magnitude of their secrets, stretching the bonds of friendship tighter than they were meant to without inevitably tearing.”
My eyes open wide. The thumping in my chest tries to drown out his words, but can’t stop each one from puncturing my heart. “Cass, what are you doing?” I whisper through stone lips.
His eyes turn to cold glass mirrors. “Imagine my utter devastation when I discovered that the person whom I loved most in the entire world is in league with the insurrectionists threatening to unweave the very fabric of our entire society.” He whips out Digory’s poster and unfurls it in one quick motion, displaying its message for all the Parish to see:
RECRUITMENT IS FEAR.
RECRUITMENT IS CONTROL.
DOWN WITH THE ESTABLISHMENT.
PROTECT YOUR FAMILIES.
Gasps and murmurs erupt from the crowd, and from right beside me.
“What’s he talking about, Lucian? What have you done?” Mrs. Bledsoe’s questions are more of a plea.
I open my mouth to speak, but the words can’t seem to make it past the heart lodged in my throat.
Setting the flyer aside, Cassius resumes the dismantling of our friendship. “I tried pleading with him, tried to make him see the error of his ways, appealed to the sacredness of our duty to the Establishment, but it was all for naught. The poison injected into him by those infidels amongst us is quite virulent, infecting the love for country until all is destroyed … unless we, as One People, can seek it out and crush it before it can spread!”
There is a smattering of applause that multiplies exponentially, drowning everything else, including my sanity, in its wake.
On the jumbotrons, Digory’s eyes seem to penetrate mine across the vast chasm that separates us. Any trace of cockiness is gone, crowded out with concern and fear. He’s been right all along. He warned me against trusting Cassius, and I didn’t listen.
All I want to do is crawl into a hole, away from Cassius and Digory both. Away from their causes, their rebellions, the Establishment … none of that matters to me. The only thing that does is standing right beside me looking afraid. My little brother. I tried to protect him from all of this. Now I’ve only succeeded in thrusting him right into the middle of this nightmare.
I stoop and bury him in my arms. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Can we all go home now?” Cole asks.
Cassius sighs. “Don’t let this touching little scene fool you.”
Glancing up, I’m shocked to see a close-up of Cole and me on every single screen. The numbness I’ve been feeling simmers and heats to anger. How dare they intrude on such a personal moment? I hate them. I hate them all.
Cassius points to us. “The truth is, this is a terrifying example of how our children are being indoctrinated into the fringe element seeking to corrupt the morals and values that are the cornerstone of our society.”
“I wanna go home, now!” Cole cries into my ear.
I pat his back, whispering, “It’s going to be okay. Don’t be scared.”
“I’ll take him.” Mrs. Bledsoe reaches out for him.
“Thanks.” Our eyes meet for a moment as I hand him over to her. Then I turn and focus my glare on Cassius. “Whatever problem you have with me, leave Cole out of it. He’s only a kid. He doesn’t understand any of this and you’re scaring him. He has nothing to do with whatever you think I did.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cluster of familiar-looking, yellowed parchment papers.
“Oh, but you are so wrong, Lucian. He has everything to do with it. You have already begun to corrupt him with your arcane literature—stolen, I might add, from the very library where you are apprenticed, and which you are entrusted to protect.”
The old pages I’d brought home from the library.
Cole’s story.
“The Lady.” Cole squirms out of Mrs. Bledsoe’s grasp and runs to Cassius.
I lunge to intercept him, but two Imps aim their weapons at my head and I freeze.
Cassius has already scooped Cole into his arms. He smiles at him and I feel shards of ice pierce my flesh. “You know this Lady, Cole?”
“I … ” Cole’s eyes dart to the pages in Cassius’s hand, then to me, then back to Cassius. His face trembles with confusion and fear. “I’m not supposed to tell.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
Cassius shakes his head. “Of course you aren’t supposed to tell.” His eyes find mine. “Your brother taught you to lie very well.”
He tosses the pages into a nearby torch. Instantly, the paper curls into crisp blackness, extinguishing the lights of the Lady’s city forever.
Cole wriggles free of Cassius’s clutches but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he just stands there, his eyes transfixed on the flames eating away at his dreams.
I try to run to him, but a heavy boot slams into my ribs. The pain is agonizing. I curl into a ball, wrapping my arms around my midsection, yet that only seems to make it worse. My throat floods with bile.
Cassius pats Cole’s head and shakes his own in mock sorrow. “There you have it, my Good People. This poor, innocent child’s mind has been subverted by his very own brother, who, instead of protecting him and raising him to be a law-abiding citizen, is inculcating him into the ways of treason and sedition.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Mrs. Bledsoe shouts at Cassius, her voice filled with more strength than I’ve heard in forever. “After all you’ve meant to each other, all his parents did for you. You’re all he’s talked about for the past couple of years—”
“Mrs. Bledsoe, no. Please,” I call out.
“Of course,” Cassius sneers. “The self-appointed mother speaks out. The one that instead of providing guidance and morality to these two lost youths has enabled them on their path to destruction. From where I’m standing, that makes you an accessory to their crimes. Is it any wonder your own daughter refuses to have anything to do with you?”
I pull myself up to my knees, fingers clas
ped. “Leave them alone.”
“You’re right,” Mrs. Bledsoe continues. “I’ve been like family to the Spark boys. I’m older. I should have known better. I failed in looking after them when their folks died. I’m the one that should be punished, not them.”
My eyes bounce between them. “Stop this! This is insane.
Cass, for the love of—”
“There is no love when our society is threatened!” Cassius bellows. “You are each guilty of acts of subversion against our government. As Prefect, the onus is on me to mete out a suitable punishment.”
Then it all clicks. Desiree Morningside’s convenient suicide, the empty slot in the Recruitment. My trial and conviction before all.
My worst nightmare’s coming true …
I spring to my feet. “Just execute me. Let them go.”
Pity fills his eyes. “The Establishment is not a heartless entity. Like a parent, we must be stern and deal harshly with our children, even though we still love them. In the spirit of compassion and the possibility of redemption, I hereby name Lucian Spark as the final Recruit, with Cole Spark and Edwina Bledsoe as his two Incentives. As you battle for the lives of those you love, Lucian, may it give you time to reflect on your errors in judgment and reignite the flame of patriotism you so obviously lack.” He turns to the Imposers. “Take them.”
“Lucky!” Cole screams.
I tear away from the Imps and stagger to my brother, folding him up in my arms and squeezing him as tight as I can. “I’m so sorry, buddy … I’m so sorry … ” The moment seems frozen in time, as if nothing has come before it and nothing will come after it.
Hands dig into my shoulders and rip us apart.
I strain against my captors, reaching out my fingers, which graze Cole’s. Trails of heat stream down my cheeks. “Don’t be scared. I promise I’ll take you home. And I’ll find you a new story to read, over and over again. And it will be the best story ever, ’cause it’ll never end, just like us. I love you, Cole.”
The Culling Page 7