The Culling: Book 1 (The Culling Series)

by Tricia Wentworth

  “Henry’s wing in the Presidential Quarters,” she says with a tight smile, looking at me concerned.

  I sit in the hot water until I feel like I’m going numb. Gertie hands me a sponge and although I don’t want to move, I know I need to get the blood off.

  As I wash Oliver’s blood away, I think of the short time I have known him. I think of meeting him on the night of our first ball and our common bond over Marcia. I think of our group project and his humor and crazy, constant hand gestures. I think of his kindness when we overheard Sapphire and Jade talking about me in the hall. I think of how excited he was to see his parents when our team won the paintball competition. I think about the little conversations in the hallways or comments during class. How can someone so full of life be gone so quickly?

  Later, after a second and third bath full of hot water since the first one turned reddish brown in color from all the blood, Gertie helps me out of the tub and gives me some pajamas. They are silky soft and the smoothest thing I have ever felt. I brush my teeth next because it seems like a normal thing to do and I need to do something or I’m going to go crazy. I’m not sure I can cry anymore. I’m beyond that point now. Now I just feel numb. Not shock, but maybe just disbelief. This cannot be happening. This cannot be real.

  I sit down on Henry’s huge, soft couch and he puts some water, crackers, and cheese in front of me.

  “Can you try to eat or at least drink something for me, beautiful?” he asks softly. He has slightly wet hair and a new shirt and jeans. He must have showered somewhere else while I was in the bath.

  “Sure,” I respond even though I’m not sure I can try. I take a sip of water anyway. It oddly feels good as the cool water goes down my throat.

  Seeing my wet hair sticking to my skin, Henry asks Gertie, “Can you get me a hair dryer? My mom should have had one in the master bath somewhere.”

  “Sure. I’ll get it,” Gertie responds and leaves, returning in just a few minutes with the dryer and my hair brush both. She plugs it in and is about to start drying my hair, but he stops her.

  “I can do it,” he says smiling at her nicely. “Thanks for all your help today.”

  “Please have the guards get me if she needs anything at all.” Gertie leaves again despite looking like she wants to stay as Henry turns the hair dryer on low.

  “It can just air dry,” I say dismissively over the hum of the dryer.

  “I want to.”

  He turns it on and gently pulls my hair with the brush. Something about his kind gesture breaks my heart. It feels amazing. What man would think of drying a woman’s hair? Henry would. He would think that wet hair would be uncomfortable and he would want to take care of me. He’s always doing things like that.

  Minutes later, with now dry hair, he turns off the dryer and leans in to give me a kiss on the cheek.

  “How are you doing?” I ask him, realizing that he was there with me and is probably affected by what we saw also.

  “I’m okay. Glad she was caught. It could’ve been even worse.” He shakes his head, his disbelief mirroring my own. “And like you, I want answers. How did she have the code for the second floor? How did she know we were on to her?”

  I sigh in silent agreement.

  “Obviously our schedules for the day have been cancelled,” he informs me. “It’s really only just after lunch, but why don’t you try to get some rest?”

  I nod, realizing I’m absolutely fried but am not sure I will be able to sleep either.

  He pulls back the covers on his bed and I crawl in. I didn’t think it was possible to have a bed comfier than mine, but he does. I lay down and he pulls the curtains making the room darker.

  “Anything else I can get you?” he asks softly.

  “Can you just lay here with me so I can fall asleep?” I ask. Every time I want to close my eyes, all I can think about or see is the blood.

  “Absolutely,” he says. “There’s no way I wasn’t going to do that anyway.”

  Instead of getting under the covers with me, he lays on top of them and puts his arms around me. He smells fresh and manly and it helps distract my senses from the horror they have just been through.

  I lay there as he runs his fingers up and down my arm and gently massages my neck and back. It takes a while, but I finally relax enough to drift off.

  ****

  I wake to Lyncoln waking Henry and them walking around the corner where the big couch is to have a discussion. I feel guilty about Lyncoln finding us like that, but all things considered, I’m sure he understands.

  I sit up and run a hand through my hair. I look at the clock. It’s almost dinner time. I slept three hours.

  Henry and Lyncoln walk back in the room as I take a drink of water.

  “Beautiful, I need to go see my dad for a bit,” he leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

  “Okay,” I respond softly, my voice sounding hoarse, probably from all the crying.

  “Not to worry. Lyncoln is staying. We aren’t going to leave you alone,” he says affectionately and looks me head to toe as if to make sure I am okay before he leaves. I would be annoyed with their thinking that I need a babysitter, but his concern for me is so genuine that I can’t at all be mad. And I don’t want to be alone either.

  Lyncoln plops down his backpack and then sits at the end of the bed with his hand on my feet. Although the days’ events are blurry, I vaguely remember him telling me he loved me. Well, kind-of, sort-of.

  “Say something, sweetheart,” he says with those deep blue-brown eyes boring into my soul. “I know asking you if you are okay is stupid, because you aren’t.”

  “I just don’t understand how it could’ve happened,” I shake my head while looking at him.

  “Me either. That’s why I went back to DIA to hound Taggert, well until he kicked me out. There has to be a mole in the security detail. How else would someone know that she was going to be arrested and how else would she know the codes for the second floor even though she had never been down there before?” He shrugs.

  “Great. So I finally think that we are safe since Isabella is locked up, but really we aren’t.” I sigh frustrated and play with my hands. How much more worrying can I take? I don’t want to go through the hurt of having this happen to another one of my friends.

  He pulls my chin up to meet his gaze. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, Regs.” His velvety voice is full of emotion.

  “And who’ll make sure you’re safe?”

  He doesn’t even hesitate. “I will.” He smiles that confident arrogant smile that I both love and hate.

  “Have you seen her?” I ask, knowing he knows who I’m talking about.

  “Briefly. Through interrogation glass though, not face to face. I didn’t dare enter the room with her. My parents taught me to not ever hit a woman, and she was making that difficult after what she did to Oliver, Austin, and Zeg. After we got her to drop false pretenses and her fake sweetness, she got really spiteful,” he stops to shake his head and clench his jaw in anger. “I just don’t understand how she can be full of so much hate. Seeing her today, it’s kind of remarkable she didn’t lash out before now. She was a ticking time bomb.”

  “Do we know anything about her background? Does she think the State was somehow unjust to her?” I ask feeling confused about it myself.

  “Nothing. And the accusations she is throwing out are definitely not things we have done either. It’s getting really confusing.”

  I think of the little I know about her background and randomly think of when we won the paintball competition. I thought I remembered her saying something about seeing her dad. “What about her family? When we won the paintball competition, didn’t she get to see her family? Are they all drifters too?”

  He nods. “Just her dad, she has no siblings that we know of, and she said her mom died when she was little. It looks like her dad here is actually her real dad though. He apparently went missing a few days after she saw him. We’ve watched their whole
exchange looking for any hints of her tipping him off but found nothing. And I can’t get over that they were here in Denver, both playing their parts for years. We are looking into how and when they even got here.”

  “Weird.”

  He’s quiet a moment in agreement with me and then his demeanor gets softer as he says, “So after Dad died, I did anything I could to just keep doing something. Do you want to play cards? I can probably get you a movie? Do you want to help me work? Do you want to go for a walk? Do nothing? More sleep? What do you need?”

  “Eventually, I want to go check on Attie, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. How about work?” I shrug.

  He nods. “Okay. Knox is with Attie and won’t leave her side, by the way. They gave her some meds to help her sleep and she is out, for now. Do you want to help me go through files of Taggert’s personnel or is that too close to home?” He looks at me concerned.

  “I want to help. Especially if it helps to keep us all safe. And if I have clearance,” I offer.

  He just rolls his eyes and hands me a file out of his backpack.

  “Rules are rules,” I say, repeating what he first told Langly the morning after the Grady incident.

  “As far as I’m concerned, you have clearance now. No rules broken. And you are probably better intuitively about this stuff than most of my men.”

  I give him a nod and that’s that. We get to work.

  An hour later, we are sitting side by side with files spread out over Henry’s bed. We have a for sure “no” pile of people we trust or who were busy or with someone when Isabella stabbed Oliver. We have a “maybe” and we have a “most suspicious” pile. I don’t know a lot of the people we are looking at, but Lyncoln explains each one and what they do. I understand that he cares more about his job than he lets on. These men are brothers to him, the only brothers he has.

  Lyncoln picks up the file with the picture of Marisol’s father and moves it to the “no” pile.

  Seeing the look on my face, he feels the need to explain, “I don’t like him either. He’s a total ass. However, he was in the infirmary getting things ready for Isabella’s arrest as the Head of Interrogations. He was with four other military men the whole time. Not to mention his extreme hate for all things drifter would be pretty hard to fake.”

  “I feel like the President has two enemies, the drifters and the Hadenfelts,” I shake my head in disgust.

  “You may be right about that.” He stops to reach over and rub my shoulder. “She won’t win, Regs. Don’t worry.”

  A few files later we feel like we have narrowed down the possibilities to about a dozen or so people. I actually start to feel hopeful we are onto something when I reach down to pick up the next file and I see a red-brown color stuck under my thumbnail. The scene we found Oliver in comes rushing back to life. There was just so much blood.

  “Regs?” Lyncoln asks, seeing the blood drain from my face.

  I feel the tears, back with a vengeance. “It’s my nails.”

  He picks up my hand and places it in his larger one, trying to figure out how I’m hurt.

  “I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and I can’t get the blood out.” I choke on a sob.

  “Babe.” He picks me up and gently places me across his lap. He then pulls out a pocket knife and flicks it open. “Trust me?”

  I nod.

  He takes the pocket knife and uses it to go underneath my fingernails and get out all of the dried blood. One arm stays around me as he uses both hands to help get it out. It isn’t perfect, but they look much better than before. The blood is finally almost all gone, except from my memory. And I’m sure it will remain there for a very long time.

  “Thank you,” I say sniffling when he is done.

  “Anything, anytime,” he whispers, giving me a kiss on the forehead.

  ****

  Later that evening after he meets with a couple of military officials for what I assume is updates, Lyncoln takes me down to see Attie. We hug and cry only a small amount given the horror we have just experienced. She seems sad and angry, but is dealing with Oliver’s death about as good as can be expected. I’m impressed with her grace all over again. I’m also impressed that Knox is taking care of her like a true gentleman. They will make a great presidential couple.

  After a meal of hot roast beef with both Henry and Lyncoln, they inform me that I am staying the night in Henry’s room. I try to argue my way out of it but am outnumbered. Much to my dismay, they both stay also. I sleep in Henry’s massive bed while the two of them cozy up on Henry’s couch just around the corner. Well, they would be cozy, but it’s so huge that they both have plenty of room to sprawl out.

  In the dark of the night, I have a hard time falling asleep. Even when I close my eyes, all I see is Oliver’s blood. I can’t believe he is really gone. I try to cling to all my good memories of him instead of the way we found him. Maybe they were right about leaving me alone in my own room for tonight.

  I must have fallen asleep at some point because I wake up with a jolt and my heart pounding. I hope that I screamed only in my dreams and not out loud.

  A lamp turns on, and Lyncoln is there at the end of the bed looking sleepy but concerned.

  “I thought I heard you,” he says, looking me over affectionately, making sure I’m okay.

  Although I don’t remember what I was dreaming about, it was obviously horrible and had to do with Oliver. I feel sweaty. And helpless. Seems about right.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” I say embarrassed. “It was just a dream.”

  “Please don’t be. Mom woke up screaming for weeks after Dad died. It’s natural you would have nightmares after seeing what you saw,” he says as he sits down, crossing one leg over the other over the edge of the bed and holding my hand while his thumb rubs circles over my palm.

  “Did you?” I ask curiously, “Have nightmares?”

  He shrugs and looks at our hands instead of at me. “I tried not to sleep at all. I was too afraid of falling asleep. Even today, if I hear the slightest noise, I’m immediately awake.”

  It breaks my heart to think that Lyncoln saw something so horrifying at such a young age. I understand more now than ever how hard that must have been for him. It’s a miracle he’s such a good man today. I’m sure his relationship with his mom is a big reason for that.

  Tears burn my eyes and I squeeze his hand, “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Knowing how much pain I am in, I would do anything to have taken yours away. You were so young. And it was your dad.”

  He puts a hand around my neck with his thumb resting on my jaw and looks me in the eyes with that intense gaze of his. “I let it consume and absorb me for a while. It controlled every part of my life. Then I started to slowly get control back. Just so you know, Regs, the pain never really goes away. It lessens and fades and you think you are finally standing in the sunlight on the other side of it, and then one day it will just kick your knees out from under you and hit you all over again.” He shakes his head. “When Dad was ripped out of my life I had a long battle with grief. Grief is anything but kind. You, too, have a long road ahead and I’m here. Even when you pick Henry, I’m still here.”

  I reach in and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before wrapping my arms around him, not knowing how to form words to express what I feel.

  Chapter 22

  “It may seem insensitive for you to be sworn in because of the event of Oliver’s death, but if you will pause and think about the State for a moment…” Professor Bennett has told the rest of the Culling candidates about the details of yesterday and has just begun explaining to us that we are to keep it a secret and will be sworn in to do so. “If the general population knew that we were being attacked, panic would ensue. Until we know more, and until we know how to act, this needs to be kept quiet, on a need to know basis.”

  I hear some murmurs of disagreement to his statement. Marisol is sobbing uncontrollably, putting on another show. She isn’t the only on
e crying. Attie is trying her best not to, but I can tell she is struggling. Elizabeth looks even more beautiful as she silently cries and Maverick consoles her. Morgan is wiping at her tears. I don’t have any more tears to cry, so I just sit there numb to the conversations going on around me. Henry has his arm on the back of my chair in support and Lyncoln is somewhere in the back.

  “It also further protects your families,” Taggert chimes in. “The less they know, the safer they are. The other townships are safe right now. We don’t want to jeopardize that in any way, shape, or form.”

  “We aren’t at all saying you can’t talk about it. But if you need to talk about it with someone, it must be the people within this room, even one of us,” Dougall says in a moment of kindness before switching to her typical cold self. “Letting this information out to the public will not only be grounds for dismissal, but even harsher punishments. Our country’s safety is at risk here.”

  What they are telling us makes sense even though they are also threatening us into doing their bidding. I think of Oliver’s last words and his want for me to tell his mom he loved her. What about his family? Don’t they deserve to know that he died a hero? When his actions may have prevented something even more tragic? It feels like yesterday he was giddily talking about lunch with his parents when they were flown in as our prize for winning the paintball competition.

  In a moment of silence, I gather my courage and decide to find my voice. “His mom. What about her?”

  I’m surprised to hear that my voice doesn’t falter. I think of the way Oliver mentioned his mom and the softness in his eyes as he was coughing up blood and about to die. Henry squeezes my shoulder and I think it’s the only thing keeping me together.

  Professor Bennett drops his head in shame. “We will have to tell her it was an accident. A training accident.”

  “Excuse me?” My temper flares to life as my eyebrows raise in astonishment.