Steven dos Santos - The Sowing

Everyone stands. In case anyone forgets to, there’s always an armed Imposer around to remind and motivate them.

I crane my neck to look behind me. A procession of hover coaches winds down the pathway toward the stage. Even though their cabs are transparent, the occupants are protected by a safety bubble of repellent energy seals, designed to deflect even the most aggressive weapon’s fire.

I flinch. Even through the ticker-tape blizzard I can make out Cassius’s profile next to that of the Prime Minister. They’re waving to the crowds, who are too terrified not to reciprocate.

Valerian is sitting in the row behind me, along with Sergeant Slade. Slade sneers and turns away, as if the very sight of me offends her. But Valerian’s face is a marble bust of non-emotion. I swipe the sweat from my brow. What is she thinking? Does she suspect what I’m up to? Shut up , I tell myself. I’m just being paranoid. I try to break the tension with a nod, but her unyielding expression is too unnerving. I finally force myself to look past her.

As the cars get closer, the forced applause builds to a rumble. It feels like I’m at the summit of a volcano, unable to move, waiting impotently for it to erupt and engulf the entire Parish in a deluge of molten heat and ash.

Beside me, Dahlia, Leander, and Rodrigo are whistling and pounding their palms together with verve, as are most of the military personnel surrounding us.

My hands barely graze each other and, though I open my mouth, no sounds tumble out. My eyes snare Arrah’s and I can tell she’s doing her best to mimic the others, just like I am. Then they flit to the fountain to catch a glimpse of Cage and his team.

Prime Minister Talon and Cassius are now standing on the dais, along with their retinue of government officials and at least a dozen armed security escorts. I stifle a satisfied gasp—standing behind them is Prior Delvecchio and a quartet of monks, their scarlet robes silhouetting the others like flames. My tongue caresses my lower lip. Good. The pot just got sweeter. If anyone deserves to be up there, it’s him .

Cassius holds up his hands. Unlike at my Recruitment Ceremony, where he had his back to me the whole time he concocted his ultimate betrayal, this time Cassius is facing me head-on. At least I’ll give him the courtesy of staring him in the eyes when I destroy his life.

He lowers his hands to grip the sides of the lectern. A smile snakes across his face, cutting across the stage and right through me. “Citizens of the Parish and honored guests,” he begins. “As we gather here today to celebrate this time-honored tradition of Ascension Day, it is my great privilege as your Prefect to present the esteemed leader of our society, the person responsible for maintaining the legacy of the strong and just civilization established so long ago by our forefather, Queran Embers, and for forging the pathway to our future.” He extends a hand to his right. “I give you Prime Minister Talon!”

The masses burst into applause and cheers, which reverberate through the square like the buzzing of a giant hive. Fear and starvation are truly amazing motivators.

Prime Minister Talon glides across the dais, her limbs long and lithe like an arachnid, the train of her silver, fur-lined gown unspooling behind her like a web. Her dress matches the gray of her hair, which is pulled back into a bun made of braided hoops that dangle at the sides of her neck like twin nooses. The deep wine of her lips contrasts against a canvas of frost-colored flesh pulled too tightly around the sharp bones of her skull—the artificial effects of ten-too-many age-rejuvenation treatments.

She smiles and grabs Cassius’s hand with her spindly fingers. Leading her the rest of the way to the lectern, Cassius fades into the background as she stabs at the air with her index fingers and clears her throat.

“My dear Prefect Thorn. Thank you for such a warm welcome,” she croaks. Her voice sounds like spinning tires on gravel. “I know that I speak on behalf of all the citizens here today when I commend you on what an exemplary job you’ve done in enforcing the laws of our government and maintaining order here in the Parish”—her face congeals into sorrow—“despite the continued onslaught of the insurrectionist vermin even now plotting to sow the seeds of discord among our people.”

Arrah and I shoot each other a look. I can tell she’s just as nervous as I am—even more so, because the girl she loves is here right now, exposed and vulnerable should anything go wrong.

“We need more young people like Cassius Thorn,” Talon continues. “More young people to take pride in their government and join us to build a bolder future. That is why this ceremony means so much to me.”

She takes a deep breath, as if trying to compose herself. “The sight of the Imposer cadets we are honoring today, who are taking the selfless initiative to serve their country, fills me with pride as if they were my own children!”

Another tempest of applause. I shift my weight back and forth and swipe at the cold sweat blurring my vision. My eyes dart from Cage and his crew to the snipers, the exits, and then back to the dais, over and over again. The BMP feels like it’s burning a hole through my uniform and seeping acid into my chest.

Cassius won’t stop staring at me, and I force myself to hold his gaze so he won’t suspect what’s about to go down.

Once the clapping storm blows over, Talon continues. “Without further ado, I call upon the first cadet to graduate from First Tier trainee to Imposer level.” She pauses to study the hovering teleprompter. “Dahlia Bledsoe!”

Cheers rumble like thunder.

Dahlia squeezes her way past me and trots up the stairs to the dais. Her face is unreadable.

Cassius steps forward and shakes her hand. Then he’s removing her pin and replacing it with a brand-new insignia.

It’s official. She’s an Imposer now.

Leander and Rodrigo follow Dahlia in rapid succession, until only Arrah and I remain.

Talon fixes her sights on us. “The next trainee, who is being promoted to Third Tier cadet, is Arrah Creed!”

Arrah shoots me a nervous glance before heading up the stairs.

I glance casually toward the crowd, and see that at the fountain, Cage is engaged in a heated exchange with two Imposers. He reaches into his pocket—

The Imposers raise their weapons—

My breath freezes in my throat. All I can hear is my heart hammering away at my ears.

But instead of the triggering device, Cage hands them a document. ID by the looks of it. One of the Imposers snatches it from him to study.

The other Imposer is on her radio. Is she calling for backup?

“I now call the final trainee we are honoring today: Cadet Lucian Spark!”

It takes me a moment to realize that Talon has just called me up onto the stage. Everything—her voice, the crowd—it all sounds muffled, as if someone has a pillow over my head and is suffocating me in my sleep. I force my limbs to move, but it feels like I’m slogging through a bog.

The bitter taste of blood oozes into my mouth from the teeth digging into my lower lip. It seeps down the desert of my throat.

I move toward Cassius. He takes my hand in his, but I can barely feel it. He leans forward, his breath against my ear. “I have a little surprise for you,” he whispers.

I look up. Behind him, Prior Delvecchio and another one of the Anchorites move apart, revealing the figure standing between them.

Cole.

He smiles at me and waves.

The shock tears through the shroud of numbness enveloping me. Instead of everything moving in slow-motion, it’s as if things are speeding up. This can’t be happening what have I done he’s going to die right here in front of everyone and it’s all my fault oh mother forgive me I failed you both I fucked things up murdered my own brother all my struggles to save him were for nothing I’m nothing but a dumb stupid shit oh sheesh oh no cole I’m so sorry I’m so—