The Letting

by Cathrine Goldstein

  “Thank you,” the sicker of the boys utters. They polish off the water.

  “Are you planning to join the revolution?” Brooke asks, eyeing them skeptically.

  “The only plan we have is to try to survive,” the lead boy answers.

  “I understand,” Brooke responds. Then, in an instant, she lifts her gun and shoots each of the boys, square in the forehead.

  “Brooke,” I scream, running to the boys.

  “What a waste of water,” she chastises. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “You can’t believe I did that? Who are you? You’re crazy!” I lean over both boys, checking their pulses. They are both dead.

  “Oh please. You didn’t actually believe that story about them being ‘let go,’ did you?” I stare at her, still in shock. “You did? Jeez Veronica, there isn’t a story you won’t believe. Think about it. How far are we from the city? They’re with Farnsworth. Probably part of the group that marched into my camp. You think these Harvesters just wandered up here?”

  “Yes, I do think that. We’re not that far from the city now.”

  “Oh.” She looks down at the dead bodies. “Well, we need their uniforms anyway.” She holds her gun to the side and begins to pull the lead boy’s uniform off. The way she handles her gun reminds me of Phoenix. I stand there, staring at her. “Come on, V.” I am stymied by her nickname for me.

  “We’re friends now?” I ask.

  “Of course not. But V seems to fit you. So come on, snap to it. Help me get these uniforms off them so we can use them.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you like to play dumb?”

  “What I mean is that Gunnar has probably infiltrated Farnsworth’s mansion and the Letting facility by now. Wearing the brown of the Harvesters will only get us killed that much faster.”

  “You think he’s that powerful?” she asks, and for the first time she seems unsure of herself.

  “He is exponentially more powerful than Farnsworth. Farnsworth only has a small army and his followers of spoiled, rich people. Gunnar has legions of people seeking revenge. Nothing is more powerful than the desire for revenge. Think about how much you hate me.” Her eyes dart up at me.

  “That’s a good point. Seems you’re not that stupid after all, V.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I mumble.

  “Anyway,” she stares directly at my chest. “We wouldn’t have been successful, pretending to be Harvesters. You would have gotten away with it, but no one would have believed I was a boy.” She flashes a tiny smile and hooks her fingers through the straps of her backpack. “Let’s go.”

  I tighten my pack as well and step around the two dead bodies. Although it kills me to leave them there like that, I know Gunnar’s revolutionaries would never bury a body, and it would be a tipoff to anyone hunting us. And, we can’t afford to lose any more time.

  ****

  As the sun sets, we trudge onward. We stop only to sleep for a few hours, and then we feel the sun rise and force ourselves to walk on. Finally, we are on the outskirts of the Inferno. This time there is no traffic. There are no families taking a drive with their pets, no people scurrying to and fro, leading their over-privileged lives. It makes me a tiny bit sad. I see the bridge up ahead, and it is completely deserted.

  “There’s the bridge,” I whisper and she nods.

  She stops to survey the situation, but I know there’s no time to lose. I feel myself holding my breath and actively force it out of my lungs. I put my head down and walk directly for the bridge.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes wide.

  “We have no time to lose,” I explain.

  “We’ll be spotted!”

  “That’s a risk we’ll have to take.” I push forward.

  She falls in time next to me, both of us keeping our heads down, walking as quickly as possible. We make it to the highest point of the bridge without incident, but as we begin the descent down, we see trucks parked up ahead.

  “Friend or foe?” Brooke whispers.

  “They’re all foes,” I reply, and still we walk on.

  The trucks don’t move toward us, so they must feel we don’t pose a threat. After all, how much threat could two overly tall young women carrying shotguns pose?

  If they only knew.

  It is not until we are directly even with the trucks that we see they are abandoned. Pure luck. The chances of lucking out like that again… I refuse to let myself think about it.

  We are off the bridge and into the Inferno, and it is eerily quiet. We have another day’s walk to get to Farnsworth’s house, which is the only place we stand a chance of survival.

  “Can we get that lucky again?” I ask Brooke and she looks at me, questioning. “Maybe we can,” I mumble.

  Without a thought, I break from Brooke and sprint back to the trucks. I find the keys in the second truck. “Woo-hoo,” I yell, pounding my fist on the steering wheel.

  “All right, V.” Brooke slides into the cab of the truck. “This was borderline smart.”

  I smile at her as the ignition turns over. I touch gears and knobs and the wheel. It dawns on me I have never driven a truck before.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Brooke asks, gripping the seat.

  “Uh-uh. You?”

  “No.” She looks at the dials in front of me. “I’ve only ever driven the motorbikes.”

  “Here we go.” I press on the gas pedal.

  The truck moves forward and stalls abruptly. Brooke falls forward and smacks her face on the dash in front of her. She scowls at me.

  “Oops,” I say, stifling a laugh. “Sorry.”

  “How about you concentrate a little harder?” she warns, pulling the gun on me. “This might help you to focus.”

  “Mm,” I mumble, learning by trial and error. Finally, I press a lever with my left foot as I push the gear stick up. Then I ease the left lever and press down on the right. Whenever the truck makes seemingly abnormal noises, I recreate those steps and slowly, bumpily, we head out over the vast, empty highways.

  “Whose truck do we figure this is?” Brooke asks. I look at her and see the gun is pointed away from me. Without even realizing it, my shoulders relax. Then I nearly stall the truck, and she shoots me another dirty look. I sit myself up again.

  “Don’t know.” I shift into a lower gear as we go up a hill. “But we have a fifty percent chance of not being shot at.”

  She nods.

  Thankfully, the roads are familiar and, fairly soon, we near the crossroads of Farnsworth’s private drive. I pull the truck off the road and cut the engine.

  “What are you doing?” she asks.

  “We walk from here.” I jump out of the truck and hook on my pack and my gun. She follows. Although it is amazingly abandoned, we walk through the trees lining the road to Farnsworth’s house. Fairly soon, I see the huge white mansion before us. “There,” I point. I have no idea what brought me here. It is the last place Gunnar would keep Phoenix, but at least it’s a place to start. And if Grace is here, at least I’ll have the possibility of an ally.

  Somehow, we find our way to a back entrance and I begin to wonder if we are actually going to sneak inside undetected. No sooner do I think the thought, a deafening alarm goes off overhead, and bright white lights envelop us. “Drop your gun,” I whisper to Brooke.

  We both throw our guns into the bushes and our hands into the air. Within moments, we are encircled by members of Farnsworth’s army, pointing guns at us.

  “I am Veronica Billings,” I declare. “Your last remaining O and Acting Principal Leader. Former Principal Leader Farnsworth is at my camp. He asked me to come. I have news.”

  The guards step aside and the back door opens. I watch, my eyes wide, as Farnsworth makes his way to the door.

  “Ah, Veronica,” he hums. “I see you’ve decided to join me at last. How wonderful. And by the way, don’t worry about introducing yourself as Acting Principal Leader anymore. You abdicated
to me earlier this afternoon. You told the people you were sorry, but you were outmatched. They understood.” He turns to face Brooke. “Oh good.” He smiles his white-toothed, unsettling smile at Brooke. “I see you’ve brought a lovely friend.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I stare, dumbfounded. “Well, Veronica,” Farnsworth admonishes, “you could have arrived here much more quickly if you would have waited for me to fire up the helicopter.”

  Brooke stares at me, and I know if she was still holding her gun, I would be dead right now. “Come in,” he tells us. “Join me for dinner.”

  “I don’t want dinner,” I snap. “I want to know where Phoenix is. Do you have him? Or do they?”

  “All in good time, Veronica. All in good time.” I can tell how much he enjoys my agony.

  It makes me almost wish they would demand a transfusion, so I could give him more poisoned blood.

  I am hustled inside to dress and prepare for dinner, while Brooke is taken to her own quarters to do the same. The preparation seems endless, even though this time I have only the choice of one dress, a long, white gown with braided straps and a bodice that hangs loosely from my breasts to the floor. No one even bothers to give me shoes anymore. I walk out into the hallway and meet up with Brooke, who looks ravishing in a floor length, black, body-fitted gown. Her hair is up, and she is completely made-up. I can’t help but notice her incredible breasts spilling up, over the top of her gown. I am certain Farnsworth will notice as well. She wears heels and, in them, she is nearly eye to eye with me.

  “Wow Brooke,” I remark, “you look incredible.”

  “I know.” She smiles only a half-smile. She is clearly terrified. We are taken to Farnsworth’s dining room, but there is no wait staff scattered about and no food waiting to be served.

  “Yes,” Farnsworth mutters, walking slowly into the room. “War is hell.” He motions to the empty room around him. “Everyone who was even remotely loyal to me was forced to fight. So I have nothing to offer you except…” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a protein bar. “Dinner?” he asks. I shake my head, but Brooke snatches the bar. Farnsworth looks at her curiously. I can tell he is unable to figure her out.

  “I’m wearing your stupid dress, Farnsworth,” I snarl. “Where is he?” I have the instinct to reach out and choke it out of him.

  “Lost all decorum, Veronica?” Farnsworth asks.

  “That happens when you lose the person you love.” I see Farnsworth start. I have blasphemed.

  “Amen to that,” Brooke adds, looking at me.

  “So what’s it going to be,” I ask Farnsworth. “We’ve come all this way. Phoenix and I were here to help you fight Gunnar. We are the only reason you are alive today.”

  “Yes,” Farnsworth agrees. “That may very well be true.”

  “I want to know where Phoenix is. And I don’t care what you’ve told them. I want to offer the people of the New World the leadership I promised them.”

  “That’s very noble, Veronica.” Farnsworth doesn’t move an inch. We stare at each other for what seems an eternity. My mind feels like it’s drifting up out of my body. Finally, Farnsworth turns to face Brooke. “You are very lovely,” he coos. I can see the tiny hairs on her arms bristle. “Ah, but I can tell you’re not my biggest fan, either.”

  “No sir, I’m not,” Brooke hisses through her teeth.

  “Well, let’s see if we can change that, shall we?” Farnsworth puts his arm out for Brooke to slip hers in.

  “I don’t think so, sir,” she retorts, her voice steely.

  “I would very much like to take you into the kitchen. See if there is anything left in there that is to your liking.” Brooke eyes him skeptically but walks over to him. She turns back to me to see if I am joining them.

  “Oh, don’t worry about your friend,” Farnsworth tells Brooke. “She needs some time to think.”

  My eyes close imagining Farnsworth will have me tied to a table in the Letting facility, waiting to be drained. Instead, he pushes open the door that leads to the outside and the ocean.

  “You’ve always loved the water,” Farnsworth proposes. “Why don’t you take a stroll?”

  I imagine what’s out there: guns and rebels and certain death. But the coolness of the air lures me forward, and I smell the welcoming scent of the ocean. Slowly, without meaning to, my feet make their way to the doorway, and I breathe in the gorgeous night air. I look over my shoulder at Farnsworth.

  “Go on.” I turn back, placing one foot, then the other, moving outside until the darkness envelopes me, driving the excitement of the unknown through me.

  I walk closer to the ocean, needing to feel the water on my feet, needing to be whole again. The water is incredibly calm and quiet tonight. I can only hear the smallest waves, rolling off in the distance.

  “Ronnie?” I hear my name on the ocean waves. “Ronnie?” I hear it again and I turn back, not daring to think…“Ronnie,” Phoenix calls, rushing forward to embrace me.

  “Phoenix?” I throw myself into his arms. “How? How can you be alive?” Tears stream down my face.

  “For you.” His hands reach up and stroke both sides of my face. “I am alive for you.” I study him and see his gorgeous face is covered with cuts and bruises. I touch one of them but he doesn’t falter.

  “What did he do to you?” I feel anger coursing through me.

  “Nothing we need to talk about right now.”

  “How did you get away?” I ask.

  “Gunnar isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.” Phoenix smiles at me. “Then I made my way here to Grace. I knew she would help me find you.”

  “I came with Brooke,” I report.

  “How?” he asks, confused.

  “We walked.”

  “From camp to the Inferno?” He raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

  “I knew you were alive. That’s what kept me going.”

  He nods, understanding.

  “And Brooke came because she wants to be the one to kill you.” We share a small smile. Soon his smile dissipates. Phoenix’s expression grows so much more intense. He grips both sides of my face softly, but possessively, and he leans down, kissing me on the lips. I push myself as tightly to him as possible, and he drops his hands to my waist. Our lips are locked together as he lifts me up, and our bodies press together until there is no space between us. We fit together like two interlocking pieces of a puzzle. He puts me down only so I can catch my breath. He kisses me softly now, over and over again, his lips traveling across my face, leaving gentle kisses behind. I close my eyes, giving myself over to this feeling of complete excitement and complete surrender. His lips find their way back to my mouth again, and we interlock. I wish there was something, anything, I could do to stay with him forever. There is nothing I wouldn’t do.

  He pulls away for only a moment, and I can see in his eyes he feels the same way. My lips are numb and my body aches for him, but the way he smiles at me tells me we are going to stop.

  “Why?” I whisper, my eyes closed. “Why are we stopping?”

  “Because it’s my job to take care of you.”

  My breath catches in my throat. His words course through my veins like pure ecstasy. He takes off his jacket and lays it on the sand. He pulls me down to sit next to him, and we stare out at the ocean. He holds my left hand and turns it over, rubbing it with his hands.

  “They say,” Phoenix looks out at the water as he speaks. “In ancient times, men and women used to choose to be together.”

  “I’ve heard that,” I sigh, breathlessly.

  “And that when a man was in love he would give something to the woman he loved. And every time she looked at it, she would be reminded of how much he loved her. And she would be his, forever, no matter what.”

  “That’s beautiful,” I murmur, feeling my palms grow sweaty with his touch.

  “I wish I had something I could give you,” he remarks, looking at me. “So you know how much I love you.”


  I smile at him. “I don’t need anything to remind me of that. We just need to keep fulfilling our promises to each other.”

  “Like?”

  “Like the promise we made to meet back at the waterfront. It’s not our waterfront,” I acknowledge, “but it’s something.”

  “It certainly is, and you’re wearing another incredibly beautiful dress. I have to say, I do like your choice of attire whenever you visit Farnsworth.”

  “Well it’s not done willingly,” I respond angrily and see Phoenix’s mood darken. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said…” My words trail off.

  “No. You should be able to say anything to me. I just hate that he controls us. It shouldn’t be like that, Ron.”

  “But he can’t control what’s in here,” I remind him, placing my hand on Phoenix’s heart.

  Phoenix reaches out and takes my hand. He kisses my palm and then softly kisses my wrist. Slowly, he moves up my forearm, past my elbow, up my bicep, and my shoulder, making his way to my neck. His kisses linger there, while his fingers toy with the straps on my gown. One strap slips off my shoulder, and I feel waves of exhilaration wash over me. His hand lingers at my shoulder, before it inches across my collarbone, slowly. My breath catches. His hands and his kisses drive me wild and chills pass through my body like tiny convulsions. And then, again, he stops.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

  “No sorry,” I pant, aching for more.

  “No.” He shakes his head. “It’s too much. Not here. Not like this.”

  We sit for a minute staring out at the ocean then something grabs his attention right as a tiny wave breaks near our feet. He stands and walks over to pick something up. He comes back and sits next to me.

  “I don’t know what they used in ancient times,” he admits. “But I’m asking you to be mine. Forever.”

  He holds his hand open to reveal a perfectly shaped, milky white seashell. Somehow through the chaos and horror that surrounds us, we have found a moment of bliss and perfect peace. Love really can conquer all. I take the seashell in my hand and hold it to my heart.