The Elect: Malevolent, a Dystopian Novel (15 page)

I want to gag.

I want to cry. But I fight to keep calm and silent.

I stare at the wall and force myself to breathe slowly. And, with tears burning my eyes, I blink a lot.

“If I have to be knocked down to number two, at least I’d like to get something out of it. You owe me.” Henry leans close and whispers, over the angry chatter of the other trainees, “I’ll collect my prize later.”

A shiver races up my spine.

Jay and George enter the room, and everyone goes silent, including Henry.

George takes his place at the front, studies the list and raises his brows to Jay. Clearly he’s surprised by what he sees, too. And once again I question whether I truly earned that top spot or not.

“Looks like we’ve had a shake-up,” George says, gaze locked on me. “Interesting.” I want to hide, but I can’t. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Or how Alice is looking at me. Or Henry. Or even Mattie. “Our next exercise is a team challenge. We’ll be pairing you by rank. That means Henry and Eva, you’ll work together.”

Oh crap. The air blasts from my lungs.

Henry scowls and glares at me while George lists the other teams. The last two people, Keith and Isabel, aren’t assigned to a team. They won’t be completing the final phase. Isabel’s face goes red then white, and I feel awful for both her and Keith. They’ve just been kicked out of training. Just like that. To their credit, they don’t say anything about Henry’s accusation.

While Jay escorts them out of the training room, George explains our next exercise. “Each team will be blindfolded and taken to a remote location. Your goal will be to disarm the other teams and return to base. The winning team will automatically graduate from the program and move on to your final job training. Both members of the team that returns to base last will be dismissed. Permanently. Any questions?”

Damien raises his hand. “Are we permitted to use any means necessary to disarm the enemy?”

“Yes.”

“Including deadly force?” Henry asks, staring at me.

“Yes.”

Henry smiles. I don’t like the way he’s smiling. We’re supposed to be on the same team, but clearly he doesn’t care about that. Why should he? He’s decided how to handle the unfair scoring.

“You should know, however,” George says, “that the clock doesn’t stop until
both
members of a team return to base.” He gives Henry a look that suggests he knows exactly what he’s thinking. “So, to win, both members must return.”

Henry’s smile isn’t so bright anymore. But I can still see the gears turning in his head. He’s up to something. And I don’t want to know what that something is.

“The exercise will begin tomorrow morning,” George continues. “You are dismissed until then. I suggest you get plenty of sleep tonight. You’re going to need it.”

As George leaves the room, the trainees talk among themselves. Mattie seems to be avoiding me. She’s sticking with Fran and Damien. I follow her out of the room and down the hall. Finally, when she still doesn’t turn around or speak to me, I tap her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

She produces an expression that I surmise is meant to be a smile. It isn’t. She’s mad. Furious. Just like Henry. And Alice. And everyone else. “No, what would be wrong?”

I can’t believe this. After I risked being kicked out to help her, she’s angry with me because of the ranking? Doesn’t she trust me? If I’ve been put on top unfairly, I intend to do something about it. “I can’t believe this. You’re mad at me, too?”

“No, why would I be upset?” Her tone is mocking and sarcastic.

“You know why. Because of what Henry said. And by the way, about that, who was playing matchmaker the other day? And what makes him think I’m screwing anyone?” I give her a you-know-the-answer-to-those-questions glare.

“First, I didn’t actually think things would go this far.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leers at me. “And secondly, I haven’t said anything about seeing you two cramming your tongues down each other’s throats, if that’s what you’re suggesting. But maybe I should. Because if you’re getting special treatment because of…because of your non-romance with Jay, that isn’t fair.”

Heads turn. I grab her arm and tug her down the hallway and into our dorm room, which is empty. “You said that so loud.”

“I didn’t do it intentionally.”

I don’t believe her. Nor do I believe what’s going on. Everyone hates me. Everyone. Just because I went for a walk with Jay a couple of times. And kissed him.

Maybe I didn’t use the best judgment when I did those things, but I didn’t intentionally seek out his attention so he would help me. As far as I could tell he hasn’t given me any preferential treatment.

Or has he?

“There is no ‘romance’ first of all,” I explain. “And secondly, even if there was, Jay has not, would not, give me, or any trainee, special treatment. For any reason.” I say that statement with way more conviction than I feel.

She kind of rolls her eyes. It’s a subtle movement, but I see it.

“He wouldn’t,” I insist. “In fact, he told me he wanted to do the opposite. He wanted to kick me out of the program. He said it was for my own good.”

This time Mattie doesn’t
kind of
roll her eyes; she rolls them so I can’t miss it. “Sssssure.”

“I swear.”

“You know, Eva, I’ve been hearing all the other kids talk about you, and say you’re cheating, but I didn’t believe them. Not until today. Because I figured if you were trying to cheat, it wasn’t working.” She paused. “Now I see it is.”

“But I’m not cheating.” I feel like she’s reaching into my chest, yanking out my insides, and twisting them into knots. I have never cheated in my life. I’ve lied. But who hasn’t? But cheated? Never. Not in any game. Not on any test. Not in any way. I’m so hurt that she doesn’t believe me that I can’t string together a coherent sentence. I babble for a few minutes, see that I’m not convincing her and throw my hands into the air.

It sucks being ranked first. It absolutely sucks.

And it sucks even more being tried and convicted of a crime you haven’t committed.

I am such a fool.

* * * * *

Someone is standing over me. I can feel his presence. Whoever it is, he isn’t moving.

Who is it?

Is it Jay? Is he trying to decide whether he should wake me so we can talk? Did someone turn us in to George? If that isn’t it, he took a huge risk, coming to me here like this. Any one of the other trainees could wake up at any moment and catch him.

I decide to let him know I’m awake. I roll over and focus on the shadow looming over me.

It’s standing very still, and I begin to wonder if it isn’t Jay after all. I start to sit up and in a blink I’m flat on the bed, a hand clamped around my neck. I can’t breathe. It’s dark and I panic. I buck. I claw. I writhe. My stomach muscles cramp. I want air. I
need
air. I need to get away.

I try to focus on my attacker, but it’s too dark to make out his face. It’s a guy. His hand, the one gripping my neck like a vice, is big, strong. Everything goes darker. Sound is growing more distant. Sparkles obscure my vision.

“Leave,” I hear my attacker say. “Leave now. Or you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

My limbs are getting heavy. My arms flail, but I’m too tired to keep fighting. The world is closing in on me, like a tunnel growing smaller and smaller. I’m sailing down the tunnel. Just before I reach the end, I feel the pressure on my neck release. I pull in air too fast. My bruised throat burns and I start hacking. Eyes water. I can’t see. I tremble and cry. Someone wants me dead.

That someone sounded like Henry.

I roll out of bed, hitting the floor hard. My body is heavy, my limbs awkward. I push to my feet and teeter into the hall. I hear footsteps, moving quickly, lightly, away from me. My feet drag as I follow them. A door thumps in the distance. I stagger and stumble a few more feet and stop. Whoever it was, he’s long gone now. I turn back toward our dorm room but hesitate. If I go back, will he come back to finish what he started?

I need to tell someone what happened. Now. And if I have any problem convincing them that I was attacked, I should have a red mark on my neck to prove it. I do a one-eighty and head toward the infirmary.

When I get there I stumble, my shoulder banging into the door. My weight pushes it open, and I lurch forward, slamming into the check-in desk. The woman at the desk jumps to her feet and scurries to me.

Tears blur my vision. “Help me. I’ve been attacked,” I say between wheezes.

The woman helps me into a wheelchair. “What happened?”

I lift my hand to my neck. The lingering sensation of those strong fingers circling it is still there. I can feel them almost as if they haven’t left. “Someone strangled me.”

“Who? Where?”

“I was in bed. I couldn’t see. It was dark.”

She grabs the handles of the chair and starts wheeling me across the room to an empty bed. “You’re the third person to be attacked tonight.”

I gasp and sputter. “I am?”

“Yes.” She motions toward a couple of occupied beds.

I recognize one of the inhabitants immediately.

It’s Henry.

“Those two have been here for over two hours,” she says. “Security is on high alert and is searching the entire compound for the guilty individual.”

As I wheel by, Henry places his hand around his own neck and smiles at me. A sick feeling rolls through me.

He’s faking his attack. To cover up his guilt. But how will I convince anyone of the truth?

While the woman takes me to an empty bed and helps me get settled, I try to think things through. No one is going to believe me. The best I can hope to accomplish here is to have the attack reported and evidence logged. But nothing more. I hope it won’t take long. I need to find someone I can trust. After today, that’s only one person. At least, I hope there’s one person I can count on.

I wait, watching the minutes drag by, measured by the torturously slow movement of the hands on the wall clock hanging above the head of my bed. One thirty-two. One thirty-three. One thirty-four.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Henry is watching me. There are no curtains separating the beds. He can see and hear everything that I do and say. There’s absolutely no way I can tell anyone here the truth. So, when the doctor finally arrives, I tell him a safe version, emitting my knowledge of my attacker’s identity. The doctor checks my neck, takes some notes and then tells me I should stay in the infirmary until the guilty party is caught. He tells me he is certain my attacker will be apprehended tonight.

I would love to tell him he’s wrong.

To his surprise, I opt to leave. I walk slightly steadier now, thanks to some time having passed and my adrenaline levels returning to semi-normal. I don’t look at Henry as I pass his bed. I know he will try to intimidate me. Instead of returning to my room, though, I head toward the other wing, where Jay’s apartment is. He hasn’t told me exactly where he lives, but I know where the trainers live. That much is common knowledge. Hoping for some dumb luck or divine intervention, I go down his hall.

It’s empty. And silent. Exactly what I would expect at this time of night. If I didn’t need to talk to him so desperately, I would go find somewhere to rest for the night. Tomorrow is a big day. And I know I’m going to need to be alert if I’m going to survive. But I’m going to need a safe place if I’m going to make it to training tomorrow.

Moving as quietly as possible, I creep down the hall, trying to listen through the walls. If only I could hear his voice. I would recognize it immediately. I count the doors as I walk. One, two, three…eight, nine, ten. There are ten in this hall. I have a one-in-ten chance of getting the right one if I knock. Do I dare?

I lift my hand to knock.

The door swings in.

I picked the right one. On the first try. I can’t believe it. Neither can I believe Jay opened without me knocking. “What are you doing here?” he checks left, right then yanks me inside and shuts the door. The lock clicks in place.

“I was attacked tonight.” I point to my throat.

He squints. The lights are off, except somewhere deeper in his apartment. There are more shadows than light. He won’t see the red mark on my throat. “I heard several people were attacked tonight. There’s a massive manhunt going on right now. You shouldn’t be out wandering by yourself. You could be attacked again. You weren’t very quiet.”

“The thing is I know who did it,” I whisper. “And I know where he is right now.”

“Who?”

“Henry,” I tell him.

“Henry?” He doesn’t believe me. I hear the disbelief in his voice. “He’s in the infirmary. He was attacked too.”

“Yes, I know, but—”

“The report came through a couple of hours ago.” Jay looks at the clock tic-tocking on his wall. “Before midnight. As far as I know, Henry has been in the infirmary since then. When were you attacked?”

“About one-thirty, maybe a few minutes earlier. But he must have snuck out of the infirmary. It was Henry. I know it.”