Steven Santos - The Culling

Thwack! The blade’s edge grazes my left ear and whomps into the raft’s floor.

Cypress raises the oar again. But this time I’m ready for her. The toe of my boot hammers into her shin.

“Ah!” She stumbles backward, trips over a backpack, and crashes against the equipment canisters strapped into the corner of the raft. Her hand loses its grip on the oar’s handle. She lies there stunned. Her other hand rubs the back of her head.

Chills rattle my body. I force myself to sit up. “Are you crazy ?”

She doesn’t respond, just continues to squirm. A few moans escape her opened lips. Did she strike her head too hard? I didn’t mean to hurt her. It all happened so fast, with that damn oar coming right at me.

My knees creak their protest. Pulling myself to my feet, I stagger over and squat beside her.

“Cypress,” I barely manage. The wet clothes are taking their toll on me. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. But why did you …?” I reach out to touch her cheek, but I’m so numb I can’t tell where my fingers end and she begins.

Her open palm clamps around the oar’s handle. She springs up and knocks me aside, holding the oar’s tip to my throat. Her eyes are colder than the black sea.

This time it’s anger that energizes me. Every second Digory and the others stay in that freezing water is a stroke of the pen on their death certificates.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but we have to go back and get the others now !”

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing personal. There’s something I need to do on my own.”

“But they’ll freeze to death if we don’t get them out of the water!”

“I don’t really care.”

“You’d just let them die like that, without another thought?”

“They would do the same to me.”

“Are you so sure? I wouldn’t.” I grip the oar’s tip. “Go ahead then. Bash in my skull. Open up my throat.” It’s hard to differentiate now between the shivers of terror and cold.

The oar digs deeper into my neck. The blade is shaking. Wooden splinters pierce my skin. The muscles in her face twitch, but her eyes remain glacial. Still, she hesitates.

“It’s a lot easier to paddle away and leave people in the dark than outright butcher them, isn’t it, Cypress? The thing is, they’re both pretty much murder, and I don’t think you’re capable of that.”

“Not yet, anyway,” she grunts. She pulls the oar away and bends over me.

I take in a deep breath, bracing myself. But she just offers her arm and pulls me to my feet.

“Thanks.” I rub my neck.

Her eyes narrow. “For what?”

“I don’t know. For not killing me, I guess.” I grab a second oar and plunk down on one side of the raft. The tip of my paddle sinks into the sea.

“Don’t press your luck.” She mimics my actions on the craft’s other side.

“Right. Let’s move.”

It’s slow going for the first minute or so, but our rowing falls into synch. Soon we’re speeding back to where I left the others behind. But the closer each stroke brings us, the more I fear that we’re too late.

“Digory! Gideon! Ophelia!” I call out into the gloom. “Can you hear me?”

The only reply is the crash of waves breaking against the raft.

I paddle faster, my oar stabbing the water. A tide of panic rises over me.

Cypress matches me, row for row. “It’s too late. They’re gone.”

“No, they’re not !” I shout the words, as if the louder I make them the more they’ll be true.

Dropping my oar, I stand up, cupping my hands around my frozen lips. “Can anyone hear me? Digory! Are you out there?”

My eyes scan the ocean. Nothing … only the hungry dark scarfing down everything in its path …

“Over here!” a voice calls. The two greatest words I’ve ever heard.

I drop and plunge my oar back into the water. “It came from that direction!” I point just off to our starboard side.

She’s already rowing. “I see them.”

As we draw nearer to the voice, I can’t help wonder who it was that called out. Between the thrashing of our oars in the water and the stutters and weakness in that cry, it’s impossible to be sure. It doesn’t matter. The three of them are still alive. They have to be.

“Look!” Cypress shouts.

A clump of tangled limbs floats listless in the water. My heart sinks.

“Watch your oar!” I shout back to Cypress. I struggle to maneuver the raft around so I won’t hit them with the oars. I throw my oar down and lean over the edge, gripping an icy arm.

Cypress is at my side in a flash, helping me haul the three of them up and over onto the raft. First Ophelia, shaking uncontrollably. Then Gideon, who looks like all the blood’s been drained from him. And finally, it takes all of our strength to drag Digory aboard. Even in the pale moonlight, I can see the gray taint to his skin.

Cypress grabs my shoulder. “There may be thermal blankets in that supply container over-”

“Check it!”

Then she’s gone, ripping through the gear stowed in the corner.

I lean in close to Digory, looking for signs of life. “Digory!” I slap his cheek lightly. But there’s no response. I hold my hand in front of his nose. Not a hint of warmth from his nostrils.

Nothing.

This is not happening! I grab his shoulders, shake him. “Digory! Wake up! Listen to me, damn it! Wake up !”

“Wrap yourselves in these.” Cypress throws a couple of thermal blankets at Ophelia and Gideon, and plops down next to me.

“I don’t think he’s breathing,” I say.

“Cover him in this.” Cypress pulls the thermal blanket close and I help her wrap it around his bare chest. There’s a click and an orange glow, and the blanket begins to heat.

Cypress hands me another blanket. “You too.”

Dazed, I offer no resistance as she cloaks me in the therm’s comforting warmth. But even that’s not enough to douse the icy fear creeping through me. I pull myself close to Digory and wrap myself around him. Maybe my added warmth will be enough to spark life back into his veins.

“Listen to me, Digory,” I whisper in his ear. “You’re going to be okay. I promise .” I press my head against his chest. Shivers rock me, despite the heat radiating from the blanket.

Gideon stands over us, wrapped in his own thermal blanket. He’s colorless. “He tried going after you, but I started to drown while trying to help Juniper here, so he came back. He saved our lives.” He looks away. “I’m sorry.”

A flash of anger sears through me. “Don’t eulogize him, Warrick. He’s not dead!” I turn to Digory, whose face now has a blue hue.

The resuscitation exercises we learned in first aid training. Damn it. What if I’ve wasted too much time already?

I squat beside Digory and Ophelia. “Tilt his head back!”

Her eyes go wide.“What?”

“Just do it!” As Ophelia tilts Digory’s head back on her lap, I place both my hands on top of each other in the middle of his chest and start pushing, over and over again. Then I pinch his nose and blow two breaths into his lips before returning to pumping his chest.

“This is all your fault!” Gideon yells at Cypress. “You took the raft and left us to die. You killed him.” He grabs her shoulder. “Maybe you ought to spend a few minutes in that freezing water and see how it feels?”

She glares at the fingers clutching her. “Unless you’re planning on reliving the experience, I suggest you take your hand off me.”

Ophelia shakes her head. “It isn’t working!”

With each thrust of my hands, an image flashes into my mind. The first time I saw Digory at the Instructional Facility. Meeting him in that alley years later. His defiant look during the Recruitment.