Steven Santos - The Culling

When he raises his hands, every sound in the ballroom dies. “Distinguished members of our armed forces and Trials Committee, I’m honored to be a part of this Recruitment Graduation.”

More applause.

Cassius folds his arms behind his back. “I stand before you as the Parish’s most recently appointed Prefect, a fellow patriot, not only to join in honoring these five courageous military volunteers, but to apprise you of an unprecedented development in the history of the Trials.”

A murmur zips through the crowd like an electrical current, sizzling and popping along the way. My chest tightens. Unprecedented development ? In my gut I know it’s tied to Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe. I grip the sides of my chair with sweaty palms.

“Most of the Recruits are gathered here with two of their Incentives, representing those they care most about and who will aid in motivating them through this arduous but necessary duty to our beloved government.” He sweeps a hand in the direction of the Incentives. One by one, Cypress’s, Gideon’s, Ophelia’s, and Digory’s family members are illuminated in the beams of spotlights.

Cassius points to them. “As you can see, two of our Recruits have not been joined by both of their Incentives. The first is Digory Tycho … ” He gestures and a split-screen image appears behind him: Digory’s stoic face on one side, his husband’s anxious one on the other. The camera pans to the empty space on the stage where his missing Incentive should be and freeze-frames.

“The other Recruit who is not yet joined by his Incentives,” Cassius continues, “is Lucian Spark.” The screen divides again, this time with a shot of the empty space on the stage where Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe should be standing.

A blinding spotlight blasts my eyes. I shield my face with an arm as my image fills the screen behind Cassius.

“Where are they?” My question, amplified by the directional mics, echoes through the hall.

Cassius stares at me, his murky green eyes like tufts of moss overgrowing the stone of his face, etched with lines of contempt and something else.

Hurt ?

How dare he feel anything but shame and guilt after all that he’s done to me and my family? My blood steams in my veins. I want to lunge at him, wrap my hands around his throat-

He clicks his tongue several times. “Unfortunately, Recruit Spark, the Trials are all about exploring the strengths and resourcefulness of our prospects from the moment of inception. Everything that has transpired since Recruitment Day has been a part of this process, and all of your performances have been evaluated and scored accordingly.”

My vision is a dark tunnel with only Cassius visible on the other end. “ Scored ? I don’t care how many points we got for barely escaping with our lives from those things-those Fleshers -that killed your scouts and have you all in a tizzy. All I care about is my family. Why aren’t they here?”

Slade marches toward me with Styles and Renquist in tow, but Cassius waves them off.

He sighs. “All the tests you have endured since you began your training at Infiernos were designed to assess your skills and weed out the weak amongst you. Surprisingly, you all passed. But unfortunately, one of you just barely made it through, and, as with every part of the Trials, consequences must be addressed.”

My mouth goes dry. It feels as if my heart’s trying to punch through my rib cage. “Where are they …?”

“According to the code,” Cassius continues, “the penalty for being the lowest-scoring Recruit to complete Basic Pre-Trial Prep is the forfeiture of Incentive visitation privileges. And you, Recruit Spark, regrettably graduated in last place.”

At first, it’s like he’s speaking some other language, gibberish … then the weight of his words settles in, crashing through like an anchor into the depths of my brain. The prospect of seeing Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe is the glue that’s held me together. Without that …

I spring to my feet. “You can’t do that. Please , Cassius. I’ll do anything you ask … anything .” I stagger from my seat and drop to my knees at his feet. “Just let me see them … Cole … even if it’s only for a few minutes … I–I beg you … ”

He shakes his head. “No need to supplicate, Lucian. The Establishment isn’t totally heartless. We do realize that from time to time, small exceptions can be made.” His voice is so convincing. I can almost believe him. Almost . He extends a hand and pulls me to my feet.

“ Thank you ,” I whisper.

The leaves of his eyes glisten with dew. He gestures to someone offstage. “I’m afraid you can only see one of them.”

His words are a punch to the gut. “Don’t make me choose. Not now … not yet … ”

He purses his lips. “You won’t have to.”

Styles and Renquist march onto the dais. Renquist is holding a shiny black vase. They flank Cassius and click their boots against the hard marble in attention. Renquist holds the vase out to me.

A growing sense of dread overcomes me. I try to peer around them. “Where are Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe?”

“Take it,” Cassius orders.

I take the container from the Imp. It’s colder than my trembling fingers. “What is this, Cassius?”

A long sigh hisses from his lips. “It’s Mrs. Bledsoe-or rather, what’s left of her. The poor thing had Reaper’s, as you know. Awful business. She wasn’t strong enough to endure all the excitement, and unfortunately succumbed to her illness last night.”

I feel like I’m disconnected from my body, hovering overhead, observing the events rather than experiencing them. None of this is real. I’m just having a nightmare. That’s all. I clutch the urn to my body. The porcelain’s like ice against my chest. I can feel the rapid-fire thumps vibrating through it, as if trying to compensate for the lifelessness within.

It’s real .

All I can do is stand there, rocking the urn back and forth, blinded by the flood pouring down my cheeks.

“My brother … ” I try to run past the Imps, but they grab me. I twist in their clutches. “I want to see my brother!” I won’t believe he’s still alive until I see him myself.

Cassius shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Recruit. No more exceptions for you.”

All that pent-up fury bubbles over and explodes. I rip free of the Imps and lunge at him. We crash to the floor. The urn topples from my grasp and smashes with a loud crash, engulfing Cassius and me in a cloud of Mrs. Bledsoe. I straddle him. He looks up, his eyes daring me to strike. I raise my fists to pummel him-

The air is torn from me as something slams into my lower back, sending jolts of pain through my body. I fall over, curling into a ball. Cassius slides out from under me. A flash of a boot and another kick sends fire into my kidneys. My eyes grow dim …

“Don’t hurt him! Let him go!” Digory’s voice echoes through the hall.

“Bring Tycho over here.” Cassius’s voice penetrates the painful fog clouding my brain.

Style’s rough hands grab me on both sides. He drags me to my feet. I manage to open my eyes. Everything’s a blur, but Cassius’s face comes into focus. He smirks at me and leans in to whisper in my ear. “You should thank me. When the time came, you’d have chosen to end the Bledsoe witch’s life yourself before your precious little brother’s. I just expedited the process and took the decision out of your hands. Now you can go into the Trials guilt-free.”

“ Murderer … ” I hiss at him.

Renquist and another Imp shove Digory toward me, his arms pinned behind his back. His eyes are choppy blue rivers. “Lucian, are you hurt?”