Steven Santos - The Culling

I collapse against one of the dark glass walls of a small, octagonal-shaped enclosure. I’m gasping for breath. It almost feels like there isn’t any air in the room. My legs splay out in front of me on the hard surface. The glass around me remains opaque. I tense for the inevitable announcement from Slade, but none comes. My pulse twitches in my wrists.

I shove my face into my palms. How am I going to keep going now? Even if somehow I made it through this Trial, I won’t make it past the next.

My body curls into itself like coiled twine.

Then I just lie there, eyes closed … and wait, wondering if I’ll live to see Cole and Digory again.

Attention Recruits!

Slade’s voice blasts through the loudspeakers and jolts my eyes open.

How long was I out?

We are pleased to announce that all five of you have made it through the labyrinth. The time has come to reveal your rankings.

The screens that have been obscuring the glass of my prison rise with a whir . I squint against a blast of light and raise my hand against it. Despite the cramps in my stomach, I steady myself against the wall and slide upward until I’m standing. When my eyes adjust I see Digory and the others surrounding me, in identical chambers.

A rush of relief surges through me.

I press my face against the glass on the side facing Digory, rubbing the pane to get his attention. But he’s staring straight ahead, not noticing me. His face is sullen, the blue in his eyes so drained they look almost gray. His upper teeth grind his lower lip. Every few seconds a ripple goes through the hard lines of his jaw.

All around me, his expression is mirrored on the faces of the others. Cypress, who’s in the chamber on the other side of me, chews her hair, pacing back and forth, mumbling words only she can hear. Gideon cowers in the chamber to her right; his glasses magnify his glazed eyes, which resemble hollow eggshells. To his right, and directly across from me, Ophelia’s face is pressed against the glass just like mine, her eyes brimming with fear instead of confidence, as if she’s a reflection of what I’m feeling inside.

They all look like old shoes worn well past their prime, having spent years tramping through rough terrain, now whittled down to thin soles. And that’s how I must look to them. I think about the holograms of Mrs. Bledsoe and Cole, and can’t help wonder what nightmares the other Recruits faced in the labyrinth.

Digory’s eyes finally meet mine. Are you okay ? he mouths.

I nod despite everything, drawing strength from his gaze. Are you? I mouth back.

I am now , he says silently.

His lips curve into a sad smile and he presses his hand against the glass, just on the opposite side of mine. I imagine the barrier that separates us isn’t there, and I can almost feel the warmth of his skin. For a moment, I’m not alone anymore, and things are a little better.

The whine of motors and grinding gears shatters that illusion into a million pieces.

It feels like someone has poured ice down my back. Not able to stop myself, I turn in the direction of that relentless noise.

Rising from the platform in between all of our chambers is a dark rectangular enclosure-just like the one that housed Gideon’s parents.

My rib cage squeezes tight against my organs, crushing them.

Is Cole in there now? Soon to be joined by Digory?

You all did exceptionally well in a Trial designed to test your strength of character and resolve, but in the end, one of you did not prove yourself as capable as the others.

Our glances ricochet around the ring, alternating between curiosity, nervousness, and outright fear, as if we’re caged animals. We are . And one of us is about to pay a terrible price for his or her failure.

SLAM!

The box-like chamber completes its ascension and locks into place with a piercing screech of metal, which may as well be the thoughts screaming inside my head.

The lights of our paddocks dim, the contrast drawing more attention to the brightly lit rectangle, which looms like a dark crypt. I chew on my tongue, tasting blood. My fingers are a blur as they thrum the glass in front of me with the speed of a woodpecker’s bill.

What’s taking so long? Why are they prolonging this agony?

Digory and I lock eyes. His jaw clenches. He can’t pretend for my benefit any longer. He knows if he’s failed he’ll be forced to choose my death, destroying Cole in the process-just like my failure will mean the same for him and his husband.

Gideon’s just standing there, eyes vacant. In his state, he must be the loser. I hate myself for the moment of relief that I feel.

The speakers crackle with static.

Your rankings, from best to worst, are as follows:

My throat goes dry.

In first place … Recruit Goslin.

Cypress practically collapses against the glass of her pen. Her body heaves, partly with laughter, partly with a sob.

In second place … Recruit Warrick.

Gideon? But he’s barely responsive. How …?

He remains motionless, without so much as a blink. Maybe his tragedy has actually made him a stronger competitor. Someone who isn’t burdened with fear or guilt.

In third place … Recruit Spark.

My moment of delirious relief dies a quick death. Digory’s still at risk.

He’s facing away from me.

My eyes flit between him and Ophelia … the sound of my breaths piston through my ears …

The Recruit who ranked in fourth place is …

The furious pumping of my heart makes me lightheaded-

Digory Tycho.

I can finally swallow. Digory’s forehead presses against the glass, and I press my own opposite him. We stare at each other, our eyes only an inch or two apart, conveying more than any words ever could.

Recruit Juniper. You have ranked last in this Trial. You will now step forward and prepare for the Culling.

Ophelia’s as pale as a corpse.

Click . The lock on her chamber springs open and the doors slide apart.

She shakes her head. “No. This must be some mistake.” Her voice quavers through the speakers. She takes a step forward, freezes, then takes a step back. For the first time in ages, she reminds me of the confused girl who could barely make her way to the dais when this ordeal first began.

And that girl, I ache for.

Recruit Juniper. You will approach the podium now or risk forfeiture of the Trials.

Still shaking her head, Ophelia steps forward, and trips on her way out, landing with an audible splat .

I spring forward, bumping against the wall of my chamber, wanting to help her despite everything but knowing I can’t. No one can.

She scrambles to her feet, blood oozing from a cut on her forehead. She wipes at it absently and staggers past Gideon as if she’s intoxicated. She taps the glass of his enclosure, leaving bloody fingerprints. “Giddy, if only you hadn’t turned your back on me … ”

But he remains motionless, looking right through her as if she isn’t even there. As if he isn’t there either.

She weaves past him, stumbling by Cypress, then stops between Digory and me. She stares up at us, her face confused. “Why?” she asks us, looking like a little child.

I shake my head, wishing I could offer some kind of answer that could make sense of this horror. But there is none, and there never will be.

Her eyes flutter, then glaze over with frost. She frowns at us. “ You two did this to me.”