Steven Santos - The Culling

Especially since I don’t know myself.

Gideon’s eyes are bouncing from one wire to another, the wire cutters trembling in his hand.

“You’re wasting too much time. Let me do it.” Cypress reaches out for the explosive canister.

“Let him alone, Goslin.” Digory blocks her. “He knows what he’s doing.”

Ophelia tugs my arm. “Only thirty seconds to go!”

Cypress looks like she wants to strangle her. “ Thanks for the update .”

My heart’s a drum roll. “Gently … Warrick … yeah … nice and slow … ”

Gideon hesitates, closes his eyes for a moment, then snips the blue wire.

Nothing happens.

Peals of nervous laughter fill the air. We’re still in this.

“Ten seconds!” Ophelia squeals.

With only two options remaining, Gideon grins and shifts the wire cutter over to the red wire-

That can’t be right. He’s supposed to cut the reactor wire before he cuts the ignition feed. I spring forward and wrench the tool from his hand.

“Spark!” he yells. “What the hell are you-?”

Snip !

I cut through the yellow wire instead-

An alarm blares through the room, cleaving my eardrums. The overhead florescent lights blink out, replaced by the swirling reds and yellows of twirling emergency beacons engulfing the chamber like wildfire.

The intercom crackles to life with a burst of static: “Detonation Activated. Mission Failure. Repeat.Mission Failure.”

But I don’t need any warning announcement to tell me how badly I screwed up. The glares in everyone’s eyes are much more potent. The wire cutters slip from my fingers and clatter to the floor, disappearing along with the steel drums when the ground beneath opens up and swallows them whole before resealing.

Wish that were me.

Gideon shakes his head at me.“What’s wrong with you? I had everything under control. All I had to do was clip that red wire … ”

A wide grin stretches across the canvas of Ophelia’s face. “So what if Spark messed up. We all know you knew what you were doing.” She moves toward Gideon with open arms, but he backs away.

“I’m real sorry.” I grab his shoulder from behind.

He whirls on me, fist raised.

Digory squeezes between us, palms thrust outward. “Whoa! Easy, Warrick.”

Gideon’s eyes are feral, the look of a cornered animal ready to fight to the death.

No one says a word, not even Cypress. We just stare, listening to this stranger’s panting breaths, wondering if he’ll strike.

He finally blinks. In that instant, he’s Gideon again. He lowers his fist, looking confused as to why it was in the air to begin with. His index finger nudges his glasses back up his nose.

“Forgive me.” His face is redder than the light’s glare. “I guess you just spooked me.”

Cypress snorts. “ We spooked you ?”

Digory lowers his own hands. “It’s all right. We’ve all been on edge. And with good reason.”

I step from behind him. “Digory’s right. You did a great job, Warrick. Sorry I screwed things up.”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets. His eyes drop to his fidgeting feet. “Thanks. Any of you could have done it.”

“Agreed.” Cypress sighs.

Ophelia glares at her. “But none of us did.” Her face softens and she takes a tentative step closer to Gideon. “I think you’re the best!” She lifts her hands so he can see them, and slowly wraps them around him.

Gideon awkwardly pats her back. He doesn’t seem to know where to look and chooses the exact moment to look down at her that she looks up at him.

Their lips meet and she gives him a quick peck.

Cypress looks away, suddenly more interested in her boots than making some snide remark.

Digory erupts into whooping and laughter, relieving the tension. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe we have another explosion.”

Ophelia giggles.

I get the sense that somehow this is a real special moment for Gideon, and when I think about all the teasing he endured during our years at the Instructional Facility, I’m glad for him.

His glasses fog up. He removes them and lifts the end of his shirt to wipe the lenses. With his shirt riding up his back, I catch another glimpse of that ugly scar.

He must feel the weight of my eyes crushing him. He grabs a fistful of shirttail and tugs it down. Our eyes connect for a second, and I glimpse naked fear before he shoves his glasses back down like a barrier to his soul.

What could have hurt him like that?

I’m not sure how long I’m standing there squirming, avoiding everyone’s faces, when the sirens finally fade and the lights return to normal.

The last thing I’m expecting to hear is the sound of clapping from across the room.

Slade’s staring at us, hands now crossed behind her back.

“Congratulations.” Her face is a mask of disgust. “You are now all officially dead , thanks to the recklessness of Recruit Spark. “It appears someone hasn’t been paying attention to his instructors.” Despite Slade’s usual condescending manner, there’s something different about her today. She looks … tired. Her usually pristine uniform is kind of wrinkled, as if she slept in it. Something other than my screw-up is pissing her off.

I stand at attention and salute her. “I’m sorry, Sir. But I thought-”

“ That was your first mistake, Recruit, and, given the failure of your mission, your last .” Slade’s eyes reflect the light like molten steel. “If this had been an actual Op instead of a training Sim you could have been responsible for not only the loss of countless personnel, but inflicted devastating consequences on the foundation of the Establishment itself. As such, there must be consequences.”

“Agreed, Sir.” I step forward. “The failure was all my fault and any punishment should be mine alone.”

This time she grins. “How noble of you, Spark. Unfortunately, you undertook this mission as a team . The failure of one is the failure of all. As of this moment, all leisure time before lights out has been cancelled for the duration of Phase Two.”

I cringe at the audible groan from the others behind me.

“Instead,” Slade continues, “you are all assigned to Fire Guard and Charge of Quarters duties when you aren’t involved in training exercises, including nightly patrol shifts, cleaning the barracks from top to bottom for my inspection-including the latrines as well as the lockers-and running personal errands for me on a twenty-four-hour on-call basis. What this pathetic platoon lacks in resourcefulness it will make up in diligence, until you are the most efficient squad in all of Infiernos.” She pauses. “Oh, and how could I forget the extra hour of morning calisthenics?”

Even I join in the moans this time.

Slade’s glee turns into a scowl. “Now get out of my sight.”

As we scramble out of her way, I’m shocked when I catch a glimpse of the last expression I’d expect to see on her face.

Fear.

True to her word, Slade makes the last week of Phase Two even more of a nightmare by introducing visits to the Tank. During our instructions on Bio Warfare, we’re issued protective gas masks and forced into a sealed chamber while Slade pumps it full of experimental toxins. It’s terrifying enough to be trapped in a coffin-like room, with nothing but the sound of hissing death for company, but we’re forced to take off our masks a few seconds before we’re allowed to leave the Tank, just so we can briefly experience the effects of the toxins firsthand as Slade forces us to recite our name, rank, and ID number to test how well we can focus under the drugs’ effect. Once we all figure out that wrong answers earn you another go around, we really try to focus. The last thing any of us wants is to experience more of those brain-splitting migraines and violent shakes.