The Choosing (9 page)

She felt him near her while she composed herself. Wiping the tears away from her face, she took deep breaths to salvage any dignity she still had. In a world where restraint and order were required, Remko had seen her lose it more often than not.

Carrington finally turned to face him and saw that he had his back to her in an effort to give her privacy. Again she was surprised by his sensitivity.

“I’m sorry for my actions,” she said.

Remko turned. “No need.” His words were as sincere as his eyes.

“I understand if you have to report this.”

Remko studied her intently, as if searching for an answer to a hidden question. His stare made her heart race and when he finally broke it, she was thankful.

“Ag . . . Ag . . .” He stopped and flexed his jaw. She watched him process his disappointment with his own struggle and then let it go almost as quickly. “Again, no need.”

Footsteps gave Larkin away as she rounded the corner. “I got what we needed. We should take a different route to the factory.”

Remko nodded and led the two girls away from the city and back to where they belonged.

Remko surveyed the land that stretched before him at his outpost. It had been dark for hours, which meant the morning light was close. He always felt a bit bitter when the sun showed its head over the horizon. Manning the overnight post was one of his most cherished responsibilities.

He often wondered what lay beyond the wall, beyond the farthest point he could see. Early on after the Time of Ruin, teams had searched outside the city for survivors. They had traveled to different parts of the surrounding cities, finding very little still living. It was hard not to believe that the people sleeping soundly, the people he stood here to protect, were the only living souls who remained, but the world was a very large place. The mysteries of what could be beyond their ability to reach itched inside Remko’s mind from time to time.

He inhaled the still air around him. The cover of dark offered him the solitude, the space, and the privacy to think and to mull over daily happenings. On most nights it gave him a chance to clear out his head before heading into a new day, but tonight was different.

He’d become quite adept at compartmentalizing every moment and the emotions attached to each one, placing
them in neat little mental cubbies so he was free of distraction. It was one of the skills that helped him garner such success in his work with the CityWatch. But he found himself incapable of finding a box that fit her
 
—the soft shape of her face, her golden cascading hair, those sweet green eyes filled with tears. Seeing Carrington in pain angered him. And that confused him.

Seeing girls cry was an unpleasant but common part of his work. He considered himself impervious to their misery, but with her, he had discovered a chink in that armor. The first time he’d seen Carrington outside the Stacks limits heaving herself sick, he’d assumed his worry stemmed from a simple concern for her health. He should have known after the rage that filled him when he found the men harassing her that what he felt went deeper than casual concern. He felt responsible for her safety, her happiness, her reputation.

Remko stood and paced inside the small outpost box. He ran his fingers through his thick hair and reminded himself that protecting her from physical harm was all that was required of him; actually, it was all that was tolerated. Anything else was not his place.

“Pacing. That can’t be good,” a voice said.

Remko spun to see Helms leaning against the inside of the outpost wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Remko wasn’t surprised to see him; Helms often ended up in the box while Remko was on duty.

“You shou . . . shou . . . should be sleeping,” Remko said.

“Sleep is for suckers.” Helms crossed the space and
claimed the free seat. “Besides, you are supposed to be keeping watch, but you’re completely stuck inside your own head. It would be a bummer if we got invaded right now.”

Remko turned back to the open plain. Helms was right; he was completely distracted, which was uncharacteristic for Remko . . . and for Helms. Helms was hardly ever right.

“So, you wanna talk about it?” Helms asked.

Remko shook his head.

“Good. Me neither. I did, however, hear about the incident in the city center today.”

Remko turned back to face Helms. He shouldn’t be surprised. Word of anything out of the ordinary always spread like wildfire.

“AJ asked me why you didn’t report it. I told him because it was a small incident and the paperwork wouldn’t be worth it. Then I reminded him that he should keep his mouth shut about things that aren’t his business or I might forget to keep his little secret next time Dodson is around.”

Remko didn’t know what the secret was, but Helms had a unique ability to collect the goods on everyone around him. It worked in his favor since he wasn’t the biggest guard in the barracks.

Helms weaved a silver coin that he always kept in his pocket back and forth across his knuckles. The coin caught the starlight as it moved from finger to finger. Helms’s father had given him the special coin with the expectation that Helms would give it to his first son. After being placed in the CityWatch, Helms had tried to give it back to his
father, but he wouldn’t accept it. Helms treasured the coin above nearly everything else.

“Paperwork. That’s the story for anyone who asks, even though we both know that’s not the truth,” Helms said. A sly smile spread across his face, and Remko’s first instinct was to slap it off. “Don’t worry, man, your secret is safe with me. We’re brothers. You know I would never sell you out.”

Remko felt his anxiety ease and he knew Helms’s words to be true. The two of them had been through more than most, and Helms would never put himself in a situation to be a threat. The real threat here was Remko himself.

“Just one thing I need to clear up,” Helms said, leaning forward. Remko could already feel his face betraying him with a smirk.

“I wanna make sure we’re still going to be brothers when she meets me and forgets you exist.”

Remko chuckled and yanked Helms out of the chair.

“See, this is what I’m talking about. I’m already feeling your hostility just at the hint of it. Man, you know I have no control over the ladies’ reactions.”

Remko rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Get out of my box.”

Someone shook Carrington from her dreamless sleep, and her first thought was that this was another nightmare. It was the first time in nearly a week that she had slept
without a dream. The night before, she had lain awake replaying the scene in the city center over and over. Each time, her brother cried more violently and her mother’s face turned colder. She hadn’t even attempted to sleep. Tonight when she crawled into bed the weight of exhaustion was so heavy that sleep was no victim to her nightmares and she was out in seconds.

Carrington opened her eyes and saw the distorted face of someone familiar, but the fog of sleep kept her from seeing clearly.

“Carrington,” the voice whispered. “It’s me, Larkin. Get up.”

“Larkin?” Carrington said at normal volume.

“Shh
 
—you’ll wake your snoring friend. Meet me out in the main room.”

The blurry figure stood and quietly exited. Carrington rubbed her eyes and swung her legs out from under the covers. She couldn’t decide whether to be panicked or angry. Grabbing the extra blanket at the end of her bed, she draped it around her shoulders and headed out of the bedroom.

Larkin stood waiting, fully dressed, wide awake.

“What are you doing here?” Carrington asked.

“I’m going to hear Aaron speak,” Larkin said.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

Larkin nodded. “Come with me.”

Carrington shook her head in disbelief. “This is why you woke me up? No, I already told you
 
—”

“I know. I just thought after yesterday . . .” Larkin trailed off.

Her words broke open the wound in Carrington’s chest and she turned away. “Why would that change anything?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment before Larkin stepped forward and placed a soft hand on Carrington’s arm.

“I saw the way your mother looked at you, the way everyone looked at you. It’s the same way they look at me. Don’t you want to feel something different from what you felt yesterday? Maybe unlike anything you’ve ever felt before?”

Carrington looked back at Larkin and ignored the feeling of longing in her stomach. “Don’t go. You’ll get caught.”

“I won’t. We won’t.”

“You can’t take that risk.”

Larkin shrugged. “Yeah? And risk all this?” She motioned around the cold room. Carrington’s pain and exhaustion collided with her curiosity and she moved away from Larkin.

“Go, then, but I’m not coming.”

Larkin dropped her head and nodded in defeat. “I wish you would,” she said simply and then turned to slip quietly out of the loft. Carrington watched the stillness of the door. She told herself she was making the right choice by staying, by following the rules.

She moved back into her room and slumped onto her bed. She plopped down and curled up in the blanket that
was still wrapped around her. Silence settled over her and she begged for sleep, but nagging questions started instead. Quiet at first, but constant.

Who was Aaron? What did he teach? Why were people willing to risk their safety to hear him? Could his message really be that different? If it was, could it be true? Could she feel different? Could she
be
different?

Like birds pecking at her brain, the questions came in a continuous loop. As they lingered they grew in volume. She was hearing them in her own voice now, trapped inside her head, echoing in her ears.

She placed her hands over her ears and pulled her head down toward her chest. Carrington couldn’t go with Larkin; it would be against the rules. She could remember her mother telling her the rules existed for a reason. They were God’s rules, after all, given to His people for the purpose of prosperity.

The thought of her mother brought her racing mind to a halt. Her mother had told her a lot of things that had proven to be false.

“Do as you’re told and you’ll be perfect. God will bless you.”

“Follow each step and you can do no wrong.”

“Stay in line and you’ll get chosen.”

Well, she had done all of those things and still ended up here, the one place she had worked her whole life to avoid. Carrington had never been like the other children: she had never pushed the boundaries, never broken the rules, never even dirtied her dress or scraped her elbows. She had
followed the law
 
—God’s and her mother’s
perfect
law
 
—and look what it yielded.

A deep pounding started in her chest and she realized that she wanted to know. She needed to know what it was like to think for herself.

Carrington jumped from bed and her roommate mumbled something in her sleep. Carrington pressed her lips together and stood perfectly still until she was sure the girl had not awakened, then moved to her closet. After dressing, she reached for her chip but thought better of it. She knew Larkin was way ahead of her, but hopefully she would be able to catch up before she left the building.

Quickly exiting her room, she walked to the front door and pulled it open. Larkin sat against the wall outside, her head rising with Carrington’s appearance. She smiled and stood.

“What are
 
—?” Carrington started.

“I was hoping that with a little time you’d come around,” Larkin said. She reached out and Carrington took her hand. Now that she was out in the hallway, her nerves and reason were starting to get the best of her. She was thankful to have Larkin guiding her along.

“How do we get out of here?” Carrington asked.

Larkin flashed a sly smile and pulled Carrington forward.

The Lint Stacks hadn’t been remodeled since the Ruining. Carrington knew Larkin had trouble sleeping, and Larkin had confided in her that she periodically wandered the
ancient building looking for ways to get around without being detected.

As they approached the end of the hall, Carrington noted that the wall had been covered with a thin steel panel that appeared impenetrable. But Larkin indicated a slight buckling in one end. When she pulled on it, the panel yielded just enough to reveal an old fire exit door.

The two girls struggled to push the rust-covered door open. Doing so quietly proved impossible. Finally, with a space wide enough for them to slip through one at a time, they found themselves in an old stairwell that ran from the top of the building down into the basement.

Carrington’s heart raced as Larkin pulled the steel unit back into place, disguising their escape. Larkin stepped to Carrington’s left and flicked a switch on the wall. Dim lights buzzed to life overhead, barely bright enough to illuminate the floor before them.

“I know it’s not a lot, but it helps. Follow me,” Larkin said. She moved down the stairs, flicking on lights as she went. The overhead lighting was ancient, like every step, handrail, and wall tile they encountered. As they placed their weight on each stair, Carrington feared the entire structure would crumble.