“Why?” I ask, certain now Gretchen will tell me the truth.
“Because the world that was supposed to develop, that altruistic, wonderful place where we all help one another, it never happened, Ron.”
“What did happen?” I can’t look at her, the mental and physical anguish too much to bear.
“It is worse than it was. We are a two-class system. The very wealthy people live in complete luxury. The rest of us serve them, body and soul.”
“But it’s so much blood,” I challenge, the prospect of something so horrific not making any sense to me. “Why would they need so much blood?”
“The wealthy people live their lives in the constant search for hedonistic pleasure. You remember that. It all started because they are involved in all sorts of activities that can harm them. Things we could never even imagine. They race against each other on small two wheeled vehicles, crashing into each other. They jump from bridges and flying objects, high in the sky, risking death. All for fun. And they get injured, and need blood.”
I pull myself up to a seated position, appreciative for the conversation that momentarily keeps my mind off who I am and what I’ve done. My arms are relieved once I’m in an upright position. She goes on.
“But more than anything they are a culture obsessed with youth and beauty. Once Principal Leader Farnsworth the First discovered the blood of a young girl can keep people young and help them live forever, well, there was no stopping them.”
“They do all this to stay young?” I ask, my eyes shut, disgusted at the prospect.
“Yes.” She nods. “All in the name of youth and beauty. They hope to live forever.”
“So they drain the life out of a young girl to prolong the life of an elderly woman?” I ask, breathlessly.
“We call them Leeches.” Gretchen faces me squarely and bites her lower lip. Then her mood changes a bit, and she seems to soften. “They don’t think of it like that.” She looks at the ground while she speaks. “They…they really don’t think about it at all. And the ones with the supply of blood that keeps the wealthy young, they make a fortune.”
“So they keep the money in their tight little circle.”
“Exactly.” She faces me again and her eyes harden.
“But what did they think would happen when they run out of young girls to Let?” I ask.
“Being driven solely by pleasure makes one forget about preparing for the future. So right now, there is an unbelievable shortage of girls. And too many boys. That’s why they increased the frequency of the Couplings. So much rides on very few women.”
I shudder at the thought, glad my own mother is free from her duty as a Coupling.
“Why aren’t they taking the boys to the Lettings?” I ask.
“They say it’s because they’ll have no one to work their factories and make their goods.”
I nod, finding it hard to swallow. I remember seven years ago when I was working in a factory, there were an inordinate number of boys to girls, even then.
“But the truth is whatever is in the blood of a ripe girl is the thing keeping them young. It doesn’t exist in boy blood. Phoenix thinks they’ll move on to the boys next. Desperation will lead them to try anything.”
“They’ll destroy an entire population.”
“Yes, it’s genocide,” she condemns. I hear the disgust in her voice. “Just a slow genocide that’s masked as something else entirely.”
“But why?” I ask. “Why do they bother to mask it? Why don’t they just take us all and do what they want with us?”
“It’s easier this way. Everyone is contained, and no one fights them. And as long as we have people like—” Gretchen stops herself and turns away.
“People like who?” I realize why she paused. “People like me? As long as they have people like me who are ignorant enough and evil enough to do their dirty work, well then, why rock the boat?”
“Something like that.” She looks down at her feet.
“We know why they want you.”
I turn, startled to find Phoenix standing at my side, less than a yard away from me. I never heard him approach.
“Why?” Gretchen asks, jumping up to stand next to Phoenix.
“Yes, why?” I ask, my curiosity winning out over my fear.
Phoenix looks at me with a pained expression. He lifts his arm as if he’s going to wave Gretchen on, away from me, then something changes his mind.
“It doesn’t matter now,” he mutters quietly, deciding to tell us both.
“What is it?” Gretchen asks, yanking on her ponytail impatiently. He speaks slowly so I’ll understand everything.
“Our…well their leader, Farnsworth, is a hemophiliac. Something they’ve kept secret and have never been able to cure. He takes regular blood transfusions, weekly. And he’s in desperate need. He thinks the transfusions will cure his condition. He’s terrified of dying and wants nothing more than to stay young.”
“And he’s an O,” I say, certain of it without Phoenix having to tell me. He just nods. I crane my neck to look at Phoenix, who is still standing at my side. “My girls? Wouldn’t there…” I feel sick as I form the words. “Wouldn’t there be enough…blood from them?”
“No. These tiny girls aren’t offering enough,” Gretchen explains.
“But the Harvesters…?” I ask.
“They’ve run dry,” Phoenix divulges. He shakes his head and kicks an innocent stone.
“You’re telling me, our cities have no more young girls who are O’s?” I ask, both stunned and skeptical.
Phoenix just looks away. I feel the rage growing inside me, and I struggle to turn to look Phoenix in the eye. “Are you saying they have already depleted an entire population of a blood type of young girls?”
“Young and adult both,” Gretchen whispers.
“Well, why haven’t you done anything about it?” I ask, nearly yelling at Phoenix. He looks surprised. “You seem to have all the answers,” I shout. “You tell me you know it all. You have the grand plan. So why didn’t you stop it before?”
Sitting there, staring up at him, I am disgusted with him, with me, and especially with the world we live in.
“I’m trying to do that, now.” His voice rises as he speaks, and he paces uneasily.
“But I’ve been there for seven years.” The tears stream down my cheeks. “I am personally responsible for killing hundreds of young girls. F-for…nothing… And you could have done something. You could have stopped it.”
“How?” he asks, and I hear the genuine question. I see the genuine pain in his eyes.
“You should have killed me,” I blurt. “You should have walked right into camp and shot me and Margaret, and Gretchen.” I glare at her. “And you should have taken those girls and run.”
“And where should I have gone once I had them?” Again, I hear the honest question in his voice. “Back to the city, where they’ll be harvested once again? A new camp will open. It will start all over again.”
“I don’t know,” I shout. “You’re the mastermind.”
He looks at me with so much hurt in his eyes it is painful to watch. But I cannot force my eyes away. Instead, my anger dissolves and instinctively, I want to reach out and touch him. I am eternally grateful my arms are tied.
Gretchen can tell we’ve gone way off track. “So they’ve turned to you. The only O they know of and can count on. I’m sure they think you’ll appreciate being the direct donor for Farnsworth himself.” Her words make me nauseated.
“But Gretchen, I can’t donate.” I’m still enraged. “You know that. My blood is toxic. Why would they want me?”
“They must think they’ve found a way to clean it.” She shrugs and throws up her hands.
I nod, understanding if I had made it to the Letting without interference, it would have been my job to serve Farnsworth until such time as I was no longer able to perform. I would have been the sole supplier to an atrocious dictator. To a man who tricked me into bein
g his accomplice to murder. After years of using me indirectly to bring him wealth and fame, he now wants to use me directly to stay alive. I have never hated anyone this much. Not even Gunnar.
Thank God I have been caught by this small band of rebels. Now they can stop him by stopping me. I take a large gulp of the hot night air, grateful to be tethered to the earth.
“So these girls are the last?” I ask, thinking of my four little endangered waifs, asleep in their sleeping bags. “There are no babies after them?”
“None.” Gretchen shakes her head. “And there are hardly any young women to Couple.”
“What about where Farnsworth lives?” Then it dawns on me. “Is that the New World?”
“They call it that. We call it the Inferno.”
I nod along.
“What about the Inferno then? Couldn’t people there supply one another?”
“They could, I guess. But they don’t. They are the privileged ones. Even way back when blood donations first became mandatory, they somehow avoided it. Now they have laws and rules keeping them exempt. And they believe the stolen blood running through their veins is all that keeps them young. I doubt they’ll give it up willingly. Who knows.” She looks away, wistfully. “Maybe they’ll turn on each other one day.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I look at Phoenix. He has been remarkably quiet.
“Why don’t they keep the girls longer?” I ask, my body shaking even as I ask this question. “Blood renews itself. Why don’t they let them grow and create more?”
“Because they’re pigs,” Gretchen retorts, looking directly at me. “They are spoiled and rich. Every one of them. And they take everything they can from a girl. Young blood is riper, purer—blood filled with life. So they take what they need and they don’t think ahead. They just assume there will always be more. There always has been.”
“So they force the older girls who weren’t chosen to donate to more frequent Couplings, trying to create new blood,” I say, understanding. “And when I see a Letting girl is near blossoming and I report it…I send that girl to her death.”
“Yes,” Gretchen whispers, her eyes cast downward to the grass and dirt beneath us.
“And the law doesn’t allow cross vocations,” I state. “That’s why everyone wants to be a Letting so they’re sure not to become a Coupling. It’s just because no one really knows what happens to these Letting girls.”
“Yes. The truth is the Letting girls are too young and too weak to Couple and mother a child, but Farnsworth instated that bogus law about no Letting becoming a Coupling to make it sound like he cared. Really, up until now, he’s had a glut of girls so it was no problem. And now he’s afraid that if he pushed girls from the Letting to the Coupling, those in the city would revolt, and even the Leeches in the Inferno would begin to ask questions.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I ask, softly. “Why didn’t you let me know?”
“Would you have believed me?” Gretchen asks, looking straight into my eyes. “You are so damned…patriotic.” She stares angrily at me.
“I thought that was a good thing,” I say, flabbergasted.
“I know you did,” she responds, softly.
“But why didn’t you explain? Why didn’t you tell me what was happening? Why did you let me be so damned proud of the horrible things I was doing?”
“Because we couldn’t risk compromising the revolution.”
“Revolution?” I ask. “There’s a revolution?” Then the absurdity grasps hold of me. “But who’s revolting? The four of you?” I can hear the sarcasm in my voice, and I am immediately sorry for it.
“Yes,” Phoenix snipes, breaking his silence. “The four of us.”
“But how will you stop them?” I ask Phoenix. “It took you God knows how long to get to me, and when you did, it was merely by chance.”
I laugh a small, hysterical laugh. This is beyond ridiculous, and Phoenix, this fearless leader of four, needs to understand that.
He looks at me. His eyes are now hard and angry. He’s not my friend, nor is he on my side, and I need to remember that. I know I’ve overstepped a boundary, but I don’t know what the boundaries are in the case of kidnapping, planning a coup, and conspiracy. He must understand that. But I don’t think he does, because suddenly the comfort I’ve been feeling around Phoenix changes and I feel…uneasy.
He steps over to me and sits down directly in front of me. His look is pensive, and it’s because of me.
“I was twelve when I was told I lost my mother to the New World. I was working in a factory and hadn’t seen her in nearly four years. I never got a chance to say goodbye. I swore then and there I would stop Farnsworth and anyone else who was involved in his twisted operation.” He looks at me pointedly as he speaks. “No one is sorrier or more embarrassed than I am that it has taken me all this time to get even this close to Farnsworth. But if you were really as naïve to all of it as Gretchen believes you were, then how can you be so judgmental toward me?”
His question is honest and pure. Once again, my heart aches.
“Phoenix, I—”
He puts up his hand to silence me. “Now, after waiting six years, I refuse to miss my opportunity.”
Phoenix stands and hovers over me. I am certain he will kill me now. And why not? I acted as the enemy for all this time, and then I had the audacity to make fun of his rebellion.
He moves behind me, and I feel the light breeze he creates as he walks. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the reprieve from the heat of the night and the heat of the situation. I feel him stop behind me. So this is how he’ll do it, strangulation, or if I’m lucky, maybe he’ll just snap my neck. He is tall enough and strong enough for either. I keep my eyes closed and prepare for my end. I think of my mother, and of my four little souls who will be terrified without me.
He squats down behind me, and I can feel the warmth radiate off his body. I prepare for the instant of pain and my trip to the New World, but instead of his hands clasping on either side of my head, I feel them start to untie the ropes that have me bound to the stake.
The rope falls away. I turn and look up at him, dumbfounded.
“Let’s get you back to camp so you can go to the Letting.”
Chapter Five
I sit on the floor of cabin O, rubbing my tender wrists. I look at my still-sleeping girls and think how easy it would be to pretend all that happened was nothing more than a horrible nightmare. To pretend it’s a day just like any other day. To think life is once again as I believed it was. How wonderful it would be to be the one to bring these little girls to their family reunions instead of their deaths.
Despite the stifling heat, I shudder.
Then I begin to wonder. What if Phoenix and Gretchen are wrong? I have spent seven years of my life building an impeccable reputation as a Leader, and I am heralded by my government. Who are they to tell me everything I’ve done is wrong? Who are they to say I’m evil? They are the rebels. The very people we have been warned about. What if they are lying, trying to turn me into a traitor? What if they plan to use me to overthrow a bogus corrupt government and I do nothing to stop them? What if? What if? What if…?
Try as I might to convince myself otherwise, I know in my gut Gretchen is not lying to me. And I don’t know why, but for some reason, despite it all, despite her lies and my anger, I still trust her.
And then…then, there’s my mother. She is the thought I have not allowed myself to have until right this moment, as close to alone as I will ever be in the darkness of cabin O. My mother, whom I haven’t heard from in nearly four years.
Thinking of her—her creamy skin, her black hair, her candy red lips, her belt pulled tightly around her tiny waist, her hips, large and comforting—will never be the same. It can’t even be as it was yesterday.
Yesterday, I was able to imagine the woman she would be now with gray streaks in her flowing black mane, her brow creased with worry over me, and her eyes still bright and smar
t. And just yesterday, I allowed myself the luxury of imagining what she’d think of the young woman I’d become. But today?
Today, I can only picture her as she was. And I am aware, more and more often of my past. I am remembering only snippets of my life with her—her white hands, the bitter mushrooms, the cold air as I walked by the clock at the entrance to the park, my cot shimmying slightly as she sat down on it gracefully, the stories of the New World and the secrets of the Old.
Maybe that’s what life is, an empty scrapbook, waiting to be filled with these moments—these frozen snippets—that, strung together, make up a life. You can’t hold or touch today, yet you know it’s here. And maybe I can’t feel her anymore, but I know she existed. So today, with memory replacing imagination, I am certain she is gone.
And also, I am certain I have done much wrong.
My aching sorrow is interrupted by a faint moan. I rush to my sleeping campers and discover it is Lulu having nightmares again. She thrashes back and forth until I put my hand on her arm. Once she knows I’m here, she slips back into a sound sleep. Her blind trust in me, coupled with the realization of the loss of my mother, is too much to take. I step away from her and push the side of my hand into my mouth to keep from screaming. I bite down hard on my knuckle, tears wetting my face. I have cried so much tonight tears feel normal against my cheek, so I don’t even bother to wipe them away.
All I want to do is get up and run, to make myself free of everything, but I know Phoenix, Gunnar, and Buzzcut are all waiting in the woods, waiting for me to bolt so they have a reason to shoot me. And I would never willingly leave my girls. Not now. Not the day before the Letting. And yet, all I want to do is get away to the woods, find my mushroom, and consequently, my mother. My empty soul aches as my brain reminds me that this is the first night in seven years, I haven’t eaten a mushroom.
I draw my legs up tightly to my chest, trying desperately to come up with a plan that keeps us all alive: the girls, Gretchen, me, and even Phoenix. Perhaps it’s because he spared my life, or maybe it’s because of his belief in my importance in the revolution, but for some reason, I do not want to let him down.
The Letting Page 5