The Culling (The Torch Keeper)

  Digory shoots me a nervous look. “Sounds too simple.”

  But you are cautioned to be as efficient as possible, balancing your needs with your speed. The locator wristlets you are all still wearing have now been programmed to act as chronometers, monitoring and timing your progress. You will only have fifteen minutes to navigate the labyrinth.

  I study my now-flashing wristband.

  00:15:00

  The Recruit who takes the longest to make it all the way through shall be the next to participate in the Culling. Anyone that does not make it out at all will be immediately shelved, along with their Incentives.

  “There’s your catch.” I sigh.

  Recruit Tycho. Prepare to depart for your next Trial in one minute.

  He kneels down beside me. “I can’t go and leave you like this.” His head turns toward the others, who seem to be oblivious to us, caught up in their own anxiety no doubt. He nudges his chin toward Ophelia, who’s now doing push-ups. “I’m sure she’d switch places with me if I can get them to allow it—”

  “No.” Ignoring the throbbing in my head and leg and the tremors in my muscles, I push myself up, teetering to my feet.

  Digory is at my side in an instant, providing me a shoulder to lean on.

  I grip him only long enough to steady myself, then let go. “You have to go. We both need each other to make it through this. If either one of us comes in last and is forced to choose … ” The words hang above us like a threatening storm cloud. “Besides.” I swallow the bitterness scorching my throat. “You have someone that’s depending on you, and he should be your first priority, not me.”

  “Lucian … about that … ” His eyes fidget and shift away. “You’re a priority to me, too … ”

  Recruit Tycho. Your departure will commence in thirty seconds.

  I fight waves of dizziness and nausea. “Looks like you’re up.”

  Our eyes lock.

  Digory’s are flooded with concern. “I’ll be waiting for you on the other end, Lucian. Please, be careful.” He reaches out and takes both my hands in his. “You just get through as quickly as possible. I’ll try and grab enough supplies for both of us.”

  “Good luck, Digory.” I give him a final squeeze and let go.

  He lowers his head and turns, walking toward the entrance and pausing in front of the crackling energy barrier. He turns and stares at me again. And this time his eyes are tinged with something else.

  Fear.

  The sizzling of the field dissipates.

  Recruit Tycho. Proceed into the labyrinth and commence your Trial.

  He holds my gaze just a moment longer. Then he’s gone.

  “Don’t worry.”

  Ophelia’s voice sends a different type of chill through me.

  I whip around, and then have to close my eyes for a few seconds to ward off the dizziness.

  She giggles. “You two are so cute together.” Then she cups a hand around the side of her mouth and whispers, “It should be really interesting to see what happens when the both of you are in a dead heat against each other.”

  I ride out another wave of tremors. “Too bad you won’t be around to see it.”

  Her eyes slither up and down my body. “You’re such a big kidder, sweetie.” Her lips bow into a pout. “How’s that fever? You should really get more rest.” She chuckles like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard, then goes back to her calisthenics as if I don’t exist anymore.

  I limp over to the other side of the dome, where Cypress and Gideon remain huddled.

  She’s stroking his hair. But he’s stone-faced, like he’s somewhere far away.

  “How’s he doing?” I ask her.

  “How do you think?”

  I crouch down and almost topple over. “I can’t even imagine.”

  “Soon the rest of us won’t have to imagine anything. It’s only a matter of time before we each get our shot.” She hugs Gideon close, resting his head against her and rocking him. “You have to be strong.”

  I can’t help but wonder if her words are meant to console not just Gideon.

  A feeling of being powerless spreads through me quicker than the infection is spreading through my blood, eating away at what little hope I have left. The dizziness shrouds my brain. I sag.

  I don’t think I’m going to make it.

  Recruit Goslin. Prepare to commence your next Trial in one minute.

  “Don’t worry, Goslin,” Ophelia calls. “I’ll be right behind you.” Her snickers cut like a knife.

  Cypress ignores her. Instead, she kisses Gideon on the forehead and strokes his face with such tenderness that my heart aches.

  Then her eyes search out mine. “Can you stay with him until it’s your time? I don’t think he should be alone.”

  “You really care about him.”

  Her lips curve into a smile laced with bitterness. She gently detaches from him. Leaning on one another, we both stand up.

  “Even if we were away from all this, there wouldn’t be a chance for us,” she says. “Not now. Not ever.”

  I know what she’s feeling because it hits me like a taser blast. None of us will ever see each other again, after this is all over.

  Cypress throws her arms around me, her cheek cool against my burning one. “Don’t let it be over without telling Digory how you really feel, or you’ll always be sorry,” she whispers.

  Recruit Goslin. You will now commence your second Trial.

  Cypress squeezes me one last time, then approaches the barrier and disappears through it just like Digory did. I’m left standing there, her last words swirling through my pounding brain.

  I’m not sure if it’s the fever or all the emotions ricocheting through my mind, but I lose track of how much time passes before Slade’s next announcement blares through the pavilion.

  Recruit Juniper. Proceed into the labyrinth to commence your Trial.

  Ophelia shoves past me, practically knocking me to the floor, and disappears through the barrier without a word.

  Three down.

  The acid rips through me.

  It’s my turn next.

  “Cypress is right, Lucian.”

  Gideon’s voice startles me.

  When I turn he’s looking right at me, not through me as before. “You don’t want whatever time you have left spent in regret.” He buries his forehead in his palms.

  “Gideon.” Despite the sickness ensnaring me, just hearing his voice—seeing him responsive—is a boost to my spirit. I hobble over to him and squat down despite the searing pain, and pry his hands from his face. “If you could hear us, why didn’t you say—”

  “I couldn’t get too close. You have to understand.” Desperation soaks Gideon’s bloodshot eyes. “To Cypress, I mean. To anyone really … ” His eyes turn glassy again. “I’m really evil, aren’t I?”

  My body burns hotter. “Gideon, listen to me. The Establishment … they forced you to do something—”

  “They didn’t force me to enjoy it.” The words burst from his quivering lips. “They just gave me the opportunity to do something I’ve dreamed of ever since I can remember. That’s probably why I was recruited—why we were all recruited.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His eyes bore deep into me. “We all have it inside us. The darkness.” He glazes away again.

  Recruit Spark. Proceed into the labyrinth to commence your second Trial.

  I slowly back away and enter the maze.

  twenty-seven

  The darkness is almost impenetrable. It’s like I’m standing in the vastness of space but every star in this false horizon is dead, its light completely snuffed out.

  I squint, in the blue glow cast by the chronometer, which feels like it’s cutting off the circulation in my wrist.

  00:13
:15

  How can almost two minutes have gone by already? I need to get moving.

  I take a tentative, step, then another, and another, until I’m teetering along like a sleepwalker, guided by the gradual adjustment of my burning eyes and the dim light of my timepiece. I can only make out shapes a couple of feet ahead of me, but that’s a start at least.

  Where are Digory, Cypress, and Ophelia? Can they be so far ahead of me that I haven’t seen or heard a trace of them? What if they’ve already made it to the exit with their supplies in tow?

  My pulse careens through my ears.

  Even if the others are way ahead of me, Gideon must still be behind me.

  Holding out my hand, I graze cold, smooth steel. A wall. Pausing a second, I steady myself against the partition and realize that a row of shelves is facing me. Small pouches are stacked on each shelf. I cast the glow of my timer on the writing on the nearest one.

  Penicillin.

  I recognize that name. It’s one of the medicines we learned about during our med training. Some kind of miracle drug. It occurs to me that it might slow down the infection ravaging me long enough to provide Cole with the one miracle he so desperately needs.

  I reach out a shaking hand, but the medicine shrinks away from me.

  It feels like I’m falling backward and I tense. It’s not the fever or my imagination—the wall’s shifting, as is the entire corridor, reconfiguring into an entirely new pattern.

  Damn it!

  I should have grabbed the medicine while I had the chance. Now it’s gone, and once again I face darkness. That’s why I haven’t seen any of the others. They must be keeping us separated on purpose, shifting this labyrinth every time we get too close, just in case we decide to work together. But besides Digory and me, who else would really go out of their way for each other at this point? Ophelia and Gideon? I can’t see it, especially given her anger at him for letting me beat him in that last trial. The Establishment must have another reason for wanting to keep us isolated from each other. And as unsettling as that thought is, I don’t have time to ponder it. The next time I come across supplies, I can’t hesitate for an instant.

  If there is a next time.

  I check the chronometer again.

  00:11:33

  Bracing myself against the walls, I push farther along this new corridor, twisting and turning through passage after passage. Even if Digory succeeds in finding enough supplies for both of us, the one thing I need to find right now is a source of illumination, or else I’m never going to get out of here.

  Along the way, I stumble across a few stray packs of ration bars. I shove them into my pockets, along with a canteen filled with cold water and a switchblade. I flick the switchblade open, and without thinking I run my fingers over the serrated edge, drawing blood. I wince.

  Snapping the blade shut, I tuck it in my belt.

  Faster and faster I move, my fingers leaving a trail of blood and cold sweat along the passageways. The farther I go, the more I have to rely on supporting myself against the walls to remain upright. If I’d only taken that medicine.

  I stagger around another corner and come to a dead end.

  There’s a chest propped against the wall. I lurch toward it and fumble with the metal latch, but it’s locked. Then the floor vibrates, and once again the walls shift, but not before I grab the chest and drag it to me.

  The dead end’s gone, replaced by yawning blackness.

  That sound. Something’s shuffling out of the darkness, headed my way.

  I check the watch.

  00:09:47

  I tug at the latch a couple of times, but it won’t budge, and it slips through my already slick fingers.

  The pocket knife.

  I rip it free, but it my haste it clatters to the floor. I fall to all fours, my hands sweeping over the cold tiles …

  The sound comes again.

  I whip my head around, my eyes trying in vain to penetrate the murk.

  Something’s sliding along the tiles. It’s like something heavy being dragged across the floor … drag and stop … drag and stop …

  It’s the fever. I’m delirious … there’s nothing there …

  nothing …

  A new sound weaves in and out … wheezing … as if something’s struggling, out of the depths, for air …

  My heart’s a battering ram trying to breach the walls of my chest. One of my fingertips brushes against icy steel. I grab the knife and plunge it toward the trunk. It misses the lock, instead digging into the lid. I wrench it free.

  The sounds oozing out of the gloom are louder now, and I can’t keep denying they’re real.

  “Lucky … ” The sound of my name carried on a labored rasp causes every hair on my body to petrify. Whatever’s in here is coming for me.

  I have to get the lock open before whatever it is reaches me …

  I plunge the switchblade into the lock.

  Snap!

  The lock breaks away and hits the floor with a loud clank.

  Tucking the knife back into my belt, I dig my fingernails into the thick groove between the lid and trunk, prying it apart and yanking the cover open. I can just make out about half a dozen shiny flashlights.

  Stuffing one into my pocket, I whirl, brandishing the other one ahead of me like a weapon. My sweaty finger finds the power button and I press down.

  Nothing happens.

  “Lucky … why … ?”

  The voice sounds like it’s just a few feet away …

  I bang the flashlight against my leg to rattle the batteries, realizing an instant too late that it’s my wounded side. Pain sears through me. I nearly double over. A blast like the sun itself blinds me with hot light, momentarily making me forget about the pain.

  “Why, Lucky? Why … ?”

  The wail’s so close, ringing through my ears as if its source’s lips are about to touch my earlobes …

  My body bolts fully erect. I shine the light ahead of me …

  And gasp.

  It’s Mrs. Bledsoe.

  twenty-eight

  It can’t be—I saw her ashes.

  Unless … unless Cassius lied to me. That has to be it, because she’s standing right here looking at me, her eyes muddy puddles of sadness and accusation. Maybe it’s just my distorted senses, wracked by fever, but her skin, though pale as snow, radiates a light of its own, shimmering against the darkness beyond her.

  My veins pump joy into my sagging heart, causing it to swell. “You’re alive.” I move toward her, arms opened wide.

  She opens her mouth and coughs. A torrent of blood gushes from it, soaking the dirty smock she’s wearing, spilling down her arms, her legs, dripping off her fingers.

  I freeze. No one who’s lost that much blood can still be standing.

  It must be a trick. Some kind of illusion engineered by Cassius to torment me.

  But it looks so real.

  Maybe she is dead. And I’ve finally lost my mind.

  The scarlet stream pouring out her cracked lips thins and dissipates. “How could you do this to me, Lucky,” she croaks. “How could you let them kill me after everything I’ve done for you?” Her voice sounds disjointed, as if she’s pulling the words from her mind at random and assembling them like a puzzle.

  I back away. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Bledsoe. I never meant for you to get hurt. I love you.” A tide of pain crashes through me, the worst kind, because no bandage, no antibiotic, no medicine ever invented can ever heal it.

  Another chill sweeps my body. I feel like I’m burning up. I squeeze my eyes against the throbbing in my head.

  When I open them again, Mrs. Bledsoe seems to flicker like a breeze blowing through a candle, and then she’s steady again. Her eyes bore right through me as if I don’t exist. “You’re a murderer, Lucky.” Her mouth twist
s into a sneer that’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen on her face since I’ve known her. “And you need to be punished.”

  “Mrs. Bledsoe, please … ” I almost trip over the chest of flashlights as I continue to retreat from her. My chest heaves with shallow, rapid-fire breaths.

  Mrs. Bledsoe shambles toward me.

  Drag. Squish. Drag. Squish …

  She opens her arms wide and smiles, her teeth caked with goops of bloody phlegm. I cringe, expecting to feel the heat of her rotting breath sear my nostrils. But all I can sniff is a cold, cloying antiseptic stench that’s suffocating me.

  “Don’t be afraid, Lucky,” she caws through a mouthful of bile. “Your pain won’t last as long as mine.”

  She reaches for me—

  I stumble backward. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. It’s not my fault. Please … ”

  Drag. Squish. Drag. Squish …

  “Leave. Me. Alone.” I whirl to get away from her.

  There’s someone standing at the far end of the corridor, facing me.

  I cast a beam of light in that direction, and even though I can’t make out a face, I can make out a form. A familiar form. The form of a little boy.

  “Cole?” The name quavers in the air. My heart swells. Can it really be?

  The figure doesn’t respond. Then it darts around the corner.

  The aching of my entire being propels my wobbling legs after him. “Cole! Is that you? Don’t be afraid! It’s me !”

  “You can’t outrun your past,” Mrs. Bledsoe’s voice yelps after me.

  I’m sprinting now, the beam from my flashlight zigzagging ahead of me, my pounding heartbeat trying to drown out my panting breaths. I hug the walls for support against the dizziness that throws me off balance as I chase Cole down winding corridors, darting left, banking right, ignoring any number of supplies along the way, ignoring the shuffling and dragging of Mrs. Bledsoe nipping at my heels. The only thing that matters is Cole. I’ve got to find him. Make him understand that I didn’t leave him … that it’s not my fault … that without him, there’s nothing left to live for …

  “Cole! Wait! Why are you afraid of me?” I rasp the words in between the painful breaths that I squeeze from my lungs. My eyes blur with wet stings, making the pathway ahead a dizzying array of streaking light and swooshing movement spiraling out of control.