The Culling (4 page)

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Authors: Steven Dos Santos

Tags: #teen, #Young Adult, #Dystopian, #Speculative Fiction, #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #sci/fi, #Military, #totalitarian government, #male protagonist, #sci-fi

BOOK: The Culling
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A cloud siphons the brightness from his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself.” He enfolds my wrists with the warmth of his touch. “I couldn’t risk anyone finding out … that you … ”

My eyes drop to my filthy bare feet. I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly conscious of my near nakedness. “That you still associate with us peons?” I whisper.

His finger tilts my chin up until our eyes link. “No, Lucky. It’s not like that, I promise you. It’s just that the Establishment has certain protocols when it comes to fraternization between government officials and citizens.” He stuffs his hands into his vest pockets. “I figured I could do you and your family more good if our relationship was seen as a more neutral one, to dispel any claims of favoritism, that’s all.”

I bite my lower lip. “Yeah, I understand, Cass. It’s not wise to show them you care about anyone in particular, especially if you’re going to represent the Establishment’s code of values.” I don’t intend to sound so harsh, but my conversation with Digory in the sewers still burns in my mind.

Cassius doesn’t seem to notice. He’s circling me, inspecting the flaps of the shoddy blanket that barely cover the cuts beneath. “As soon as I heard you were in custody I had them bring you right to me.” He stops, brushing his forehead against mine. “How bad did they hurt you, Lucky?”

I shrug. “I’ll be all right.”

He wrinkles his nose. “What’s that
smell
? Did you lose at Shit Dash or something?”

“Hey, I used to beat you at that every time, and you know it!” I give him a playful push away.

He shakes his head. “Faulty memory, Lucky. Come here.” He leads me behind a red velvet partition that conceals a large clawfoot tub. “I had a bath drawn for you. You can get cleaned up.”

“Thanks.” I wince as he pulls the soiled mantle off my aching limbs.

He tosses it into a corner. “I think we can find you something that fits better.”

Then I submerge my naked body into the water, bracing myself for the usual jolt of coldness, only to be shocked by how warm and soothing it feels, like a thousand toasty fingers kneading my sore muscles. People actually live like this? If I did, I’d bathe four or five times a day instead of the once-a-day ritual of enduring a freezing splash from a rusty spigot.

Cassius kneels beside the tub, using a sponge to gently scrub away the grime coating me, careful around my cuts and bruises. “Lucky, what about Cole? Your mother? How are they?”

My vocal chords twist tight. “Mom … she … she’s gone. Reaper’s Cough. About six months after you left.” I blink, spilling a few drops into the bathwater.

He massages soap into my scalp. “I don’t know what to say. I tried to make inquiries about your family, but you know—”

“Contact is forbidden. Yeah, I know.” I sink deeper into the water.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. But I’m here
now
.” He cups water in his hands and rinses out my hair, making sure it doesn’t get in my eyes. “How’s Cole handling things?”

I sit up. “Cole’s a real champ. He’s the best little brother a guy can have.”

Cassius laughs. I’ve missed that sound. “I’m sure he doesn’t even remember his Uncle Cass.”

I turn and grip the tub’s rim. “Of course he remembers you! I’ve only told him the stories of all our adventures, like a million times!” My mind floods with a stream of memories. “Well,
some
of our adventures, at least.”

He winks at me. “Remember the time we snuck past that squad of Imposers into Old Man Roarkeshire’s farm and got ahold of that Wanderer’s Brew?”

“Just how much intoxicant was
in
that thing?”

Cassius stands, knuckles resting against his hips. “All I know is that Old Man Roarkeshire used it to polish the metal hinges in his barn.”

I chuckle. “Great stuff!”

He grips one of the marble columns and swings completely around it. “We ought to take a ride out there sometime, see the old place!”

Visions of burning skin and its stench drains the remaining warmth from the bathwater. “We can’t. It doesn’t exist anymore.”

A sigh escapes Cassius. “How stupid of me. I heard about …
about
that.

My eyes drop to a bubble forming a dome on my palm. A pair of eyes stares at me. Probably just my own reflection. But why are they sky blue and filled with accusation? I dunk my hand beneath the surface.

I’ve had enough. No matter how long I lie here, I’ll never feel completely clean. Rising, I climb from the tub. Cassius picks up a towel draped over a pedestal and tosses it my way. With my back to him, I dry off. When I’m finished, he’s holding a robe open and slips it around me. It’s made of a lustrous black material that’s softer than any I’ve ever felt before.

“It’s called silk,” he whispers in my ear. “Only the best for my Lucky.” He reaches around me and cinches the robe’s sash about my waist.

“Cole must be wondering where I am,” I whisper back.

“So he hasn’t been taken into a child assimilation program?”

Breaking from his embrace, I swerve to lock eyes. “Of course not.
I’m
his family. He belongs with me.”

Genuine surprise darts from Cassius’s eyes, like needles to my skin. “I only meant that I’m sure it’s hard to take care of a—what is he now, four?—year-old on your own.”

I back away on uncertain legs. “Mrs. Bledsoe helps out during my shift at the library. We don’t need any outsiders.” My heart gallops. I lean against the partition to steady myself.

Cassius moves closer, arms open wide. “But the Establishment’s child care programs are a valuable—”

“I’m not going to give Cole to strangers, Cass. He’s lost Mom and Dad. He’s not going to lose
me
, too.” A fog shrouds my brain.

Cassius reaches me and draws me close, a beacon in the mist. “I wasn’t trying to offend you, Lucky.”

Bringing my fingers to my temples, I try to massage away the throbbing. “It’s just that—”

“Here! I know what you need!” He smiles, takes hold of my hand, and leads me to a table nestled in a small alcove. In its center rests a covered silver tray. Even before he lifts the lid, a mixed aroma of fresh sweetness and cooked meat overpowers my nostrils. My stomach growls. Saliva floods my mouth.

He raises the cover. “I thought you might be hun—”

I pounce on the tray. Grabbing the meat with my bare hands, I tear into it with my teeth, hardly savoring each morsel as it slides down my gullet. Then I’m stuffing cheese and fruits into my mouth, frenzied by the new tastes assaulting my tongue as I try to devour them all before someone steals them away.

When I finally look up, a monstrous beast stares back at me, teeth bared, a distorted face smeared with the blood of its latest kill. Then I realize it’s my own face, reflected on the tray’s silver cover. Disgust and shame overwhelm me.

“It’s going to be all right, Lucky.” Cassius leads me to one of the plush sofas, sets me down, and wipes my face with a handkerchief. We sit there in silence, his arm around me, my face buried in his shoulder. I’m not sure how much time passes before I find my voice again.

“Cole … he’s … he’s all I have left. That’s why I risked coming here today—allowed myself to be taken into custody—it was the only way I could think of to see you face-to-face and ask you to protect him in case I get recruited.”

“You took a big chance. If I hadn’t seen your name on the prisoner roster … ” His arm squeezes me close.

I look into his eyes. “The Recruitment. Now that I’m sixteen, there’s a chance I could be selected.” My hands grab both of his. “You have to promise me that if that happens, you’ll do whatever you can to keep Cole from being one of the Incentives. I’ll never choose to … I’ll never choose him … and you
know
what will happen.”

He purses his lips. “You’ll both be shelved.”

“That’s right, we’ll be
murdered
, only they’ll make Cole watch me get killed first. You were the one who told me how it worked, remember? How they make you choose between the people you love … what happened to your father … ”

He brings my hands to his lips. “That’s
not
going to happen to you and Cole. I’d
never
let it.”

I scoot closer. “So you’ll help us then?”

His arms envelop me. “Do you even have to ask? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He pulls away. “But Lucky, there’s something you need to explain to me first.” He springs from the couch and strides over to his desk.

When he turns back to me, he’s holding up Digory’s unfurled poster.

Seven

I can barely swallow. I clamber from my seat and limp over to him. “Cass, it isn’t
mine
. I
swear
it. I … I picked it up near the sewer. I’d never seen it before today.” I look away. I hate the idea of dancing around the truth with Cass. But he wouldn’t understand about Digory, would he? And the thought of Digory being slaughtered the way that guy in the alley was …

Cassius nods. “I believe you. The Parish is going to be a real challenge for a new Prefect to administer. I’m going to need your help, your
support
, if I’m going to pull this off.”

Gripping the edge of the desk, I brace myself against the cold granite. “What can I do to help you?”

He raises the poster higher. “This rebellion. It’s got to be crushed. If it isn’t, everyone loses.”

“I don’t know much about it, but … ” The stone edge of the desk digs into my lower back. “Is it so wrong for people to want a better life … something to look forward to?” My throat gulps dryness. “I know that’s what I want for Cole. Does that mean I should be crushed, too?” I stand as straight as I can, forcing him to look up into my eyes.

He waves my question away. “It’s not the same. You and Cole are different
.” The poster crumples in his grip. “You’re not like these leeches who want to drain the government of its resources. Ingrates, all of them.” He flings the banner on the floor, where it rolls up against the foot of the sofa.

My jaw plunges. “Leeches? Ingrates? It wasn’t so long ago you used words like that to describe the Establishment, not its citizens.”

His eyes dim. “I was young then. I didn’t understand.” He shakes his head. “Without order, civilizations whither and die. The Establishment’s learned from the mistakes our ancestors made.”

“And it’s making even bigger ones.” I stare into his eyes. “What’s gotten into you? How can you think the Establishment
cares
about the good of all its people? I just saw someone not much older than we are get mauled to death by a Canid patrol. Have you taken a good look around you? Taken a good look at
me
?” I tug open the top of my robe, exposing the blue and purple blotches that contrast with my pasty flesh. Lacerations weave across my chest like the fancy lace pattern on his lapels, swirling downward to wrap around my jutting ribs.

He wraps me in his arms. “The guards who did this to you will be punished, I promise,” he whispers.

I break the hug. “Don’t you see? It’s not about the guards or revenge. It’s about having your dreams smothered, day after day, until there’s nothing left.”

“I used to think the same way.” Taking my hand, he leads me out onto the balcony and points to the pockets of gatherers slowly filling the Square below. “The people need someone to look after their interests. They can’t do it themselves.” He turns the finger on himself. “
We
give them structure … a purpose.”

I pull my arm free. “And just what is that purpose, Cass? Huh?” My hand sweeps the path leading from the onlookers up to the dais. “To be cattle in the slaughterhouse just waiting for their turn in the meat grinder? That’s not living. You of all people should know that. Think of what happened to
your
family.”

Hurt flickers in his emerald eyes. “But it’s not going to happen to
me
, and it doesn’t have to happen to you.” He turns away and storms back inside, heading toward an elaborate wooden cabinet built into the alcove wall.

I’m at his heels, like a Canid at its master’s side. “You say that, yet you serve the very government that recruited you and destroyed your family in the process.”

Unlatching the cabinet doors, he pulls out a decanter of blood-red wine, sets it on the shelf beneath, and digs out two crystal goblets, handing me one.

I examine the glass, staring at him through a prism of haze before shaking my head and setting it down on the shelf. “These past few years I’ve told myself you were only doing what you had to do to survive, to come back to … the Parish. But now it sounds like—”

His thumb flicks the carafe’s stopper off with a loud
pop.
“Like what?” His brows arch. “
Like I’ve been
brainwashed
—is that what you’re thinking?” Sighing, Cassius watches dark crimson gush from the carafe as he tilts it over his goblet. “I assure you I haven’t been.”

“I was going to say, it sounds like you’ve forgotten what life in the Parish is like.”

The decanter clangs against my unused goblet as he puts the wine back on the shelf. “Of course I haven’t forgotten.
I
survived Recruitment, remember?” Half his drink disappears in one gulp.

“And you shouldn’t have
had
to. The whole Recruitment process is barbaric.”

“The Recruitment is a training method, Lucky. Five candidates who fit a certain profile are chosen to bypass the standard draft and given the opportunity to serve in an accelerated Special Forces program. Facing the Trials fosters competitiveness in those candidates who have demonstrated exemplary strength and would be an asset to our military, while at the same time sending a very important message to our citizens.”

“Yeah. Be careful who you love as it may cost you your life,” I grumble. “Sounds like you’ve been memorizing the marketing manuals.”

“No. It’s a much more complex message than that. Don’t value personal attachments
over
civic duty; doing so could cause our society to become fragile and susceptible to utter collapse, like it was before the Ash Wars. Is that so wrong, Lucky? And, if the effect of the Recruitment is to diminish the chance of the populace coming together and rebelling against the government—by neutralizing potential threats through recruitment and frightening people into avoiding emotional attachments—that’s just an added
bonus
, right?”

He lets loose a sigh. “The Trials weed out the weak links. There are limitless opportunities for those who are resourceful, independent. Look at what I’ve achieved.”

I throw up my hands. “Wow. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was listening to a public information broadcast on the wireless!” I head back to the couch and drop down, crossing my arms. “The Recruitment is state sanctioned
murder
.”

He coughs, nearly choking on his second swig of wine. “It’s
not
murder.” He marches over and plunks down next to me. Scarlet droplets from his glass bleed onto the white marble floor. “Every Recruit is given an equal opportunity to advance to the next level of their training.” He holds up his hand before I can protest. “Yes, it’s unfortunate that the Recruit who achieves the lowest score after each round must undergo the Culling—”

“Stop sterilizing it!” I hug my knees. “The loser of each trial has to choose between the lives of two people they love, and if they can’t do that, all three of them
die
. That’s sick.”

The color of Cassius’s face matches what’s left of his drink. “Yes, they die. Is that what you want to hear, Lucky? Is that raw enough for you?”

“How can you defend the system? They made you choose your mother’s life over your father’s. What kind of people would make a kid do something like that?”

The glass drops from his hand, shattering into a million pieces. A ruby pool spreads at his feet, sliding toward the poster lying nearby. As he watches it, his face turns to stone.

“I tried to save them
both
, Lucky. I’ve replayed that last round in my head every night since.” He turns to me. “You don’t know how much I wanted to be the first Recruit to ever make it through every round with both of their Incentives intact and become an Imposer.” Pools well in his eyes. “My father … he understood at the end. I … I saw it on his face. He wanted me to be strong, beat the others.”

His expression melts and I see the Cassius I remember, a frightened sixteen-year-old selected during the Recruitment ceremony two years ago. “Oh, Lucky, why couldn’t I save him too?”

I touch his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. You had to go through something no one should ever have to. Don’t you see? That’s how they break you.”

He tears away. “But they haven’t broken
me
. Don’t you see? I can beat
them
at their own game. Now that I’m Prefect, I can change things, make a difference. And to do that, I need you.”

“For what?” I lean back against the cushions.

He scoops up the poster. It unspools, the images now tainted red. “These insurgents. So far every attempt to infiltrate their nest has met with failure.”

“I still don’t understand what that has to do with—”

He rolls the poster back up. “This propaganda that was in your possession when you were taken into custody—”

“I already told you, it’s not
mine
. You have to believe me.” My pulse thrums in my ears.

Cassius smiles and squeezes my knee. “Of course I believe you. I know you of all people would never lie to me.”

I shift my weight, but I can’t get comfortable.

He leans in. “All I’m asking is that you seek these rebels out, ingratiate yourself to their cause.”

“So you can go ahead and flush them out? They’ll be
executed
. You know that.” Digory’s face haunts my mind. “I won’t be a part of that, Cass. I don’t want to get involved in this civil war. All I care about is my brother being safe.”

He sighs and lets go of me. “You totally misunderstand my intentions. I want to put an end to the violence. There’s no reason why both sides can’t come to the table and work through these issues in peace.”

I shift onto my knees. “You aren’t going to arrest them?”

He swivels toward me, resting on his folded legs. “Things are going to be different, now that I’m Prefect, I swear it.” His fingers tangle with mine. “I want what you want. Things to change. If these rebels continue to operate on their own, then they
will
incur the Establishment’s wrath. Prime Minister Talon will wipe them out. I can prevent this, but to do so, I need you to act as a conduit.” His smile is soothing. “You’re a Parish boy. Hardworking, well-liked. You fit the profile of what the rebels look for.”

My eyes narrow. “And in return, you’ll protect Cole by making sure I’m not recruited?”

He releases a long breath. “This isn’t a quid pro quo, Lucky.” He leans in, his eyes taking my own hostage. “I’d have prevented you from being recruited no matter what.”

“You promise, all you want to do is talk to them, Cass? I mean, that’s it? No interrogations? No torture?”

“None of that.” He bounces off the sofa and pulls me to my feet. “I pledge to you on what we mean to each other, which is the one thing in this entire world that I value the most.”

All my unease, my fears, evaporate with those words, and I feel ashamed for ever having doubted him. I feel myself glowing. He
does
still care. He’s
still
my Cassius …

And the idea of a truce, of real change in the lives of the Parish’s citizens, is too tempting. I can talk to Digory first and explain Cass’s offer. He’ll know what to do. And if he refuses, no one gets hurt. It’s not like I’d be getting involved in anything.

I smile. “All right. I’ll see what I can do. But it’ll take time. I can’t promise anything.”

Cass grins, brushing the hair from my eyes. “Just knowing that you’re going to make the effort means everything to me, Lucky.” He hugs me tight. “It’ll be just like old times. You and me against the world.” His smile is infectious.

“Yep. You and me,” I say.

“Which reminds me.” He reaches into his pocket. “I have something for you.” He pulls out a silver chain. Dangling from it is a pendant, bearing an engraving of two hands clasped together. He moves behind me and places it around my neck.

I hold up the medallion and marvel at every detail. “It’s magnificent, Cass! I can’t accept—”

“Nonsense! I had it molded from the silver pin I was awarded as the last Recruit left standing.” He snaps the clasp together. “The thought of one day giving this to you has kept me going the last two years.” He moves around in front of me, his eyes admiring. “Promise me you’ll wear it always.”

I grip the chain. “I promise.”

A loud gong reverberates throughout the room, buzzing through my skin.

Cass groans. “Time to prepare for my Officiation duties.”

My eyes travel longingly to the dining table. “Do you think I could take home some of that leftover food, for Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe?” I’m prepared to beg if I have to. Pride can’t fill an empty stomach.

He claps his hands together. “I have a better idea! The Recruitment gets underway within the hour. I’ll have a security detail escort you back to pick them up and return you to the Citadel. The three of you can watch the procession from my private box. There’ll be plenty of food and refreshment for all.”

Dampness smears his image. I blink him back into clarity. “I’ve missed you
so
much.”

His smile is radiant. “Me too. This is going to be a
new beginning, Lucky. A new beginning for the Parish. For the Establishment. But most importantly, a new beginning for
us
.”

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