The Choosing (3 page)

Isaac Knight smoothed the front of his ceremonial robe and took a long, deep breath. He could hear the newly acquired Authority Workers making their way into the chapel that lay behind the red curtain before him. The room around him was small and dimly lit to facilitate reflection and focus before he stepped out to deliver his customary speech. Only a small, high table that held his copy of the
Veritas
accompanied Isaac in the space.

He placed his hand on the holy book and fought off the pounding behind his eyes. It had become crystal clear to him over the last couple of months how far the Authority and its people had fallen away from the original rule of righteousness. Over time the ego that served the flesh and sought to have religion and order done away with had managed to seep beneath the surface of the law. The same law that was supposed to govern this city, to give it direction, to remind its citizens of what God can do to a people who have fallen into utter darkness. How many times had Isaac found himself retelling the story of their fall? Pleading with the people to understand that the Time of Ruin was a punishment from the heavens for the injustice that flooded the streets of
humanity’s cities. That as God had done before, He could easily do again.

Even though the mandatory ceremonies were still held and attendance was recorded, the spirit of truth was missing from behind the people’s eyes. Isaac would stand at the pulpit, searching for those whose loyalty to the faith ran deeper than mere attendance. He thirsted for it like water, something to cover the overwhelming dryness that plagued him. Was he the only true believer left?

Isaac often lay awake at night, contemplating whether the Holy Robert Carson had wondered the same thing. Whether that burning question of belief was the reason he’d brought the
Veritas
to the people. The longing to convey a proper understanding of the great power of righteousness. It gave Isaac a small amount of relief to imagine that he was like-minded with someone so completely committed to truth. He heard the voice deep inside his soul, the reconfirming message that he was walking along the proper path. That he should have no fear, for soon all would be brought back to holiness.

Isaac smiled and let the voice ease the pain in his skull. Even now he had another opportunity to offer salvation for those in need. New workers were brought into the Stacks four times each year, and each season Isaac greeted them with his speech and with the law. Standing before them, he saw the fear in their eyes. Some still had tears clinging to their cheeks; some displayed anger working its way through their bodies, each one fragile and broken.

Some people might find it sad or feel moved to empathy for these poor souls, but Isaac understood the ways of God differently than most. He knew refining fire was necessary for true purification and growth. Pain was necessary to accomplish the way of true order. Salvation.

“All rise for Authority Knight,” said a voice from inside the chapel.

The shuffling of feet echoed as Isaac exhaled, placed a kiss on the holy ring he always wore, as was the custom before any religious ceremony, grabbed the
Veritas
, and stepped through the curtain.

The room was deadly silent as Isaac walked to center stage and placed the holy book on a small pedestal. He looked out across the faces and drank in their grief, their suffering. He let them stand a moment longer than was necessary and absorbed their angst. Finally he nodded for them to be seated and in unison they sat.

Isaac began, “The
Veritas
reads, ‘Let every citizen be subject to the Authority. For there is no true authority except from God, and those who have been appointed have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the Authority resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment.’ As God set forth the law, so the law must be obeyed.”

The room echoed back the familiar saying like a glorious choir, and Isaac let the words rush over him. He continued, “Today begins a journey of righteousness and obedience for each of you. Today, accountable for your
own actions, having been removed from the protection of your parents, you will have the opportunity to seek purity through the law you have been taught.

“For we know, according to the holy book, that all things work together for the good of those who obey God and follow the law. You are to follow with grace
 
—with joy
 
—even as you travel this road given to you by He who rules over us all.

“Heed with caution the warning against feeling pity for your position. For pity is not a quality of the righteous, and without righteousness God will cast you aside, for you will no longer be worthy.”

Isaac stepped around the pulpit and stood at the front edge of the stage. “Women were created to be the help-maids of the people, brought up to understand that their true purpose is to serve their husbands and children. But without either, you are now called to serve this city. Do so knowing you are following in the path of God, under the direction of the holy Authority He has appointed to lead you. As the
Veritas
says, ‘Whoever has My commandments and keeps them is righteous. But the wages of disobedience is death.’”

The girls before him sat still as stone, fear keeping them motionless and seeping through their expressions. His calling was clear: lead them to perfection. He would bring them down the road of purification, even if he had to drag them.

“Go forth and do the will of God. He has saved us and called us with a holy calling. In all tasks remember your
purpose and place. As God set forth the law, so the law must be obeyed.”

Isaac turned as the girls once again repeated his words. He picked up the
Veritas
and headed back toward the curtain, the voice of truth singing his praise with each step. The refining fire had begun.

Remko Brant pulled his shoulder-length hair back at the nape of his neck and tied it into a knot.

“You know if you let me cut that mop off your head you wouldn’t look so much like a girl,” Helms DeMarko, Remko’s friend and fellow CityWatch guard, taunted. He shot Remko a goofy grin and stuck the toothpick he had been rolling between his fingers back into the corner of his mouth. “Actually . . . not sure that would fix the problem.”

Remko fought to keep the smile off his lips as he turned to walk across the field.

Helms chuckled quietly, which was typical of the guy. It didn’t matter if anyone else thought he was funny, because he always amused himself.

A couple yards ahead Remko could see the other CityWatch guards who had gathered with the medical investigator. It was the same group as before, just a different area. Dodson Rogue, Authority member and head of the CityWatch guards, would be among them, and Remko prayed for all their sakes that he wasn’t in a bad mood.

“You work the Lints transport tonight?” Helms asked.

Remko nodded.

“Man, I keep hoping they’ll put me on that shift.”

Remko raised his eyebrows and threw Helms a glance over his shoulder.

“What? Don’t you think I’m trustworthy?”

“Not with wo . . . wo . . . wo . . .” Remko cursed himself and stopped trying to get the word out across his tongue.
Women.
He could easily think it, but his mouth was irritatingly dysfunctional.

“Keep your opinion to yourself. Women love me.”

Remko shook his head and huffed.

“Man, you should see the looks I get walking through town, and it ain’t just because I’m wearing this CityWatch uniform. No, girls know a catch when they see one. It’s just too bad no one will ever be able to tie me down. It’s their loss, really. A tragedy, man, a freakin’ tragedy.”

Remko saw the cocky grin on Helms’s face but could hear the hint of sadness permeating his tone. CityWatch guards weren’t allowed to be married or have families of their own. Their duty and complete focus was to keep the city and its citizens safe. A family would only be a distraction. For some, joining the CityWatch was a choice, but for Helms and Remko it wasn’t.

Remko had known early on that his place would be with the CityWatch. He couldn’t remember a day in his life when he hadn’t stuttered. His parents said that although he didn’t speak much as a child, there had been a time when his words were clear and came easily. But at some point he had lost the ability to express himself through language. Remko knew that for the right price, the Authority had the
ability to fix the problem with his speech, but coming from the Farm Lands and being the son of a poor farmer, Remko did not have access to the medical advances that could have made a difference in his future.

He had accepted the fact that being a CityWatch guard was his destiny before his twelfth birthday. How could he lead a family if he couldn’t even speak to them? Logically it made perfect sense, so when his emotions threatened his resolve, he switched them off and focused on being pragmatic.

Helms, however, had more difficulty accepting his reality. He never talked about what had gotten him here, and Remko had never asked. It was one of the unspoken rules in the CityWatch barracks: you don’t press for details if they aren’t volunteered.

Even so, Remko saw the way Helms watched mothers with their children and the way he looked at young women during their courting season. Clearly this life had not been his choice.

“Remko, Helms! I didn’t call you out here for a casual stroll. Get over here,” Dodson yelled.

So much for a good mood.
Remko picked up his pace and covered the distance in a couple seconds; Helms was right on his heels.

Dodson towered over his men. He was as mean as he looked, his face decorated with battle scars and his eyes darker than the sky. He pulled the thin cigarette from where he had it clenched between his teeth and turned his head to
spit tobacco-stained mucus to the side. “Enjoying the evening breeze?”

Remko could hear Helms’s nervous swallow to his right. “Sorry, sir,” Helms said.

Remko locked eyes with Dodson and nodded his apologies.

“Helms, go help Bradley scan the banks for evidence,” Dodson said. “Remko, you’re with me.”

Helms saluted and trotted off toward the river. The field around them was one of the few undeveloped areas inside the city grounds. It sloped down into the river and ran along the outside of the High-Rise Sector wall.

Smith, a promoted lieutenant with a bite as bad as his bark, appeared at Dodson’s side. “Nothing,” he said. “Same as the last time.”

Dodson cursed and flicked his spent cigarette to the ground. Smith smothered it in the dirt with the tip of his boot.

Remko let his eyes fall to the body a couple of feet away. It was hard to make out details in the dark, but the stars and moon showed enough for him to know it was another girl. Judging by the shade of her uniform, she was a Lint, same as the last four. Her skin was breaking apart across the surface of her arms and legs like paper dissolving in water. The medical investigator was still working over her, inputting data into the flat panel he held.

Dodson walked to the body’s side and tried to wait patiently for word from the doctor. Unfortunately, patience
wasn’t really a virtue for the hulking man. “Out with it, Doc, before my men freeze out here.”

“Your men have well-equipped suits that accommodate temperatures much lower than this. I won’t rush my examination because of a little breeze,” the doctor said. He was a small man, a pair of glasses hanging on the tip of his nose. He seemed frail enough to break like a stick, and Remko worried that his response was almost enough to encourage Dodson to do just that. Remko could see the color draining from Dodson’s knuckles as he tightened his fists.

“My patience is running thin,” Dodson said.

“As if you had any patience to begin with,” the doctor rebutted. Remko wondered whether the doctor really wasn’t afraid of Dodson or if he was just too stupid to know he should be.

The panel beeped, and the doctor stood from his kneeling position. He studied the results on the thin screen and shook his head curiously as he did.

Remko could almost feel the heat cascading off Dodson’s body. He struggled to keep his face from revealing his astonishment as he watched the doctor play with Dodson like a toy soldier. Remko couldn’t think of a single other person who got under Dodson’s skin so easily.

Dodson was raising the fist at his right side as if gearing up to smash something when the doctor began to report.

“Based on my calculations, the cause of death and MO are the same as with the last four victims.”

Dodson’s fists released a bit. “Meaning this is the same killer?”

“Preliminary toxicology reveals the same substances in the system: sodium hypochlorite
 
—bleach
 
—which has eaten away the esophagus and stomach lining. The body has been scrubbed with bleach as well, causing significant deterioration of the tissue, which is why you have the flaky appearance. Same ligature marks on the feet and wrists; same indicators of malnourishment . . .”

“Same as the others,” Dodson said.

The doctor nodded. “If I had to make a call in the field without a full assessment, I would have to say the evidence points to this being the same perpetrator.”

Dodson turned to Smith. “And no trace evidence on the scene?”

The lieutenant shook his head firmly.

Dodson ran his fingers through the short hair at the back of his head. “Any connection between the victims other than their uniforms?”

The doctor held up his screen again and scanned the information it held. “I have been running the data for commonalities, but nothing stands out. All different ages, different body types, different trades
 
—as if each girl had been randomly selected.”

“We’re missing something,” Dodson said. He turned back to Smith. “Survey the area again, like your life depends on it . . . because if we don’t come up with some way to break this case, it will.”

Smith nodded and left.

“Do let me know if your men discover anything,” the doctor said.

Dodson ejected another glob to the side, and the doctor cringed. “If it’s relevant to your work. Otherwise this information is need-to-know.”

The doctor dropped his eyes to slits, but Dodson was already walking away. “Helms, Bradley,” he yelled across the field.

The two guards ran over and stood at attention, waiting for instructions.

“Get this body loaded into the good doc’s vehicle and send him home. Remko, come with me.”

Remko didn’t hesitate before falling into stride behind his superior. The two walked for a few moments in silence until there was a safe distance between them and the rest of the group.

“I don’t like the way this is starting to smell,” Dodson said. He pulled up to a hard stop and Remko nearly tumbled over him. “The Authority wants this situation kept quiet. The victims are only Lints, but if word of this spreads into the Flats, we’ll have a panic situation on our hands, and we do not want to deal with that.”

Remko gestured that he understood.

Dodson pulled another thin cigarette from his front shirt pocket and lit the end. He took a deep drag and blew a gust of smoke toward Remko’s face. Remko didn’t breathe as the rank pollutant lingered around his head.

“This stutter of yours sure is a pain in my behind. It would be nice to get a word from you once in a while,” Dodson said.

Remko opened his mouth to attempt a response but Dodson held up his hand.

“I don’t have time for you to stumble through your words. I need you to keep an eye on the Lint Stacks. Got it? You have a way of getting around without people noticing, and it seems whoever is doing this to these girls does too. We need to find a way to use that against him. And let me know if any of the guys open their mouths on this one. We gotta keep things hush-hush.”

Dodson began to walk away but paused and turned back to Remko. “We both know you’ve done good work for the Watch
 
—always been one of the best. We don’t promote often, but you help me nail this freak and we’ll talk.”

He started back toward the crime scene, calling loudly over his shoulder, “Now get over there and help Smith find me something that will give us a lead, or I’ll hold both of you responsible for hindering this investigation.”