Steven Santos - The Culling

As I drop, I swing, arcing into the latticework opposite the collapsed staircase.

Then I’m tangled in its metal strands, which resemble a huge web. I look up. The crossed metal beams run parallel to where the staircase used to be, extending all the way to the top of the Lady’s head. The open space between each diagonal strip is only a few feet wide, well-suited for hand and foot holds.

This could work. But it’s not like I have a real choice.

Wasting no more time, I spider up its length. Even though I tug at each bar before I pull on it or trust it with my entire weight, I try to move fast and not linger too long on any one section, just in case.

As I skitter the rest of the way up the makeshift ladder, two thoughts tussle in my brain.

The higher I climb, the closer I’m getting to Cole …

And Ophelia’s even more unsettling when she’s nowhere to be seen …

I reach the top and slide onto the platform that used to connect to the spiral staircase.

My heart drumrolls in my chest.

Gasping breaths burst from my lips.

“Cole! I’m here ! I’ve come for you, buddy!”

Only the sound of my own voice replies, its echoes distorted by the mocking wind.

Before me, there’s a series of panoramic windows spanning maybe fifteen feet. If there once was glass, it’s long gone now. The row of windows looks like a crescent moon collapsed on its side, the ends pointing downward like a frown. Black clouds like billowing smoke stream past these open frames, along with the chilly wind that whips through my hair and weeps into my ears.

Based on the size and shape of the room, this must be the Lady’s crown I’m standing in. Whoever built this place must have designed it so that its people could come up here and gaze at the wonder of the city.

My fingers latch onto one of the curved support beams and I pull myself to my feet, staggering toward the center window.

There’s nothing to be seen outside now except an all-consuming darkness that’s plucked the stars out of the sky and swallowed them whole. Lightning flickers in the sky, reflecting on the choppy sea below. Then there’s a low rumble, as if the night’s growling a warning. The air up here feels like icy teeth biting into my skin.

Another flash of lightning turns the dark into brief day. A deafening clatter of thunder rattles my body. I back away from the window frames. As much as I rub my shoulders, I can’t shake the tremors.

As soon as the rumble subsides, I can hear the sound of breathing directly behind me and I spin-

Crack!

“Ah!” A volcano erupts against my ribs. The impact sends me reeling across the room. It’s as if my side’s on fire. I clutch the wound, fresh waves of pain slicing through me. I feel like I’m going to be sick. Every breath I take is torture. When I’m finally able to open my eyes, it’s like looking through a rain-soaked pane.

Ophelia’s wielding a broken pipe-which she just used to shattered my ribs-like a club.

Another lash of thunder. I flinch.

She steps closer.

There’s a blur of metal. I try to roll out of the way-

Whack!

My kneecap explodes in agony.

Lightning and thunder struggle to overtake each other, striking faster and louder.

Somehow, I’m able to use my arms to drag my body backward, never taking my blurry eyes off her. Soon, the cold steel of rivets digs into my back. I’m backed into a corner with nowhere to run … even if I could .

Rain pelts the window frames like bullets, spraying the interior of the crown with an icy mist.

Ophelia’s shadow drapes over me like a burial cloth. She raises the pipe high overhead-in direct trajectory to my skull.

I raise my palm. “Ophelia … please … ”

She snarls. Drool seeps from her parted lips, scalding my frosted cheek. She slams the pipe down like a mallet, but before it connects, I smash the toe of my boot into her shin as hard as I can.

She shrieks and drops the pipe, falling to her knees. It starts to roll and I lunge for it, my fingers grazing the tip. But she pounces on top of me, her weight grinding my fractured ribs against the hard floor as she knots her fingers in my hair and whips my head back.

“ I … hate … you ,” she growls into my ear.

Then she slams my face against the floor, pulls it back, and slams it again. Warmth trickles down my forehead … the room spins …

She pulls my head back a third time-

My fingers wrap around the rain-spattered pipe.

Clutching it as tight as I’m able, I swing it backward, jabbing it into whatever part of her I can reach.

Her body spasms against mine, crushing me harder against the floor. I squirm out from underneath her.

Pressing against another support column, I grab it and haul myself to my feet, teeth grinding into my lips against the throbbing pain. I stagger to the far corner of the room, away from Ophelia and toward the farthest window, hoping that the torrential rains and frigid air will help revive me.

But Ophelia’s unrelenting. Hands twisted into claws, teeth bared, she charges. The collision sends me reeling backward-through the open window.

My stomach lurches into my throat. Instinctively, I grab onto her and pull her with me-

Then we both free-fall into space.

My body slams into ridges of hard stone, much sooner than I would have imagined.

The jolt sends currents of pain sizzling into my knee and ribs, made worse by the deadweight of Ophelia’s body, still straddling mine.

Our fall was broken by the crook between the Lady’s neck and right shoulder. Through the pall of rain, I can make out the stone robes draping halfway down her upraised arm, which rises about forty feet above us, clutching the torch.

The wind is fierce, buffeting my body with sharp blows, and the rain stings like a lash. If it weren’t for Ophelia’s weight anchoring me to the spot, I’d have toppled over to my death.

The sheer terror numbs my pain. I’m petrified, unable to move a fraction of an inch and risk rolling over.

There’s nowhere to go …

Ophelia’s eyes flutter open. She looks dazed at first, as if she’s woken up from a dream and isn’t sure where she slept. She lifts her head. Rain spatters her cheeks and she rubs it away. “Where-”

A gasp bursts from her lips.

Her eyes open wide and flit about. When they settle on me, it’s like flint igniting fuel.

“ You’re trying to kill me too ! ” The sound of her voice barely carries over the roaring storm. Her face contorts into a hateful mask. Hands clamp around my throat, squeezing.

My own hands lock onto her forearms, trying to rip her grip loose.

She squeezes even tighter …

Everything grows impossibly darker … and then the stars finally appear … bleeding through the sky … but I know it’s really the lack of oxygen … shutting me down … killing me …

No.

Releasing her arms, I ball my hands into fists and pummel her face with as much strength as I can muster.

When she lets go of me to shield herself, her body rolls halfway off me and I squeeze out from under her. She gropes for me but slips on the slick stone, hooking her hands around one of the robe’s folds. The powerful air currents rock her body.

For a second it looks like she’s going to topple over.

But she regains her balance and crawls back over. “I should have finished you off earlier. Tycho, too.” She leers at me. “But he wanted me to watch you, keep you two alive so you could feel the pain of losing each other in the end. And now that Tycho’s gone, there’s no reason to keep you around any longer.”

“What are you talking about? Who wanted you to spy-?”