The Culling ttk-1 Page 11

  Slade gestures to the dark horizon. “Out there is a communications station.” She points to the rear of the platform we’re standing on. “The life raft behind you contains a map with coordinates to the radio tower, along with a compass and emergency supplies. Your mission is simple. Arrive at the station in one piece.” Her tongue traces her lips. “But I do suggest you spend as little time in the water as possible, what with the hypothermia factor, not to mention the aquatic predators that roam these seas.”

  Digory clears his throat. “Excuse me, Sergeant, Sir. Permission to speak?”

  Slade’s eyes slash him from head to toe. “Permission granted, Recruit.”

  “What if we aren’t able to reach the radio tower?”

  Malice edges out the contempt in her face. “Failure is not an option in my platoon, Recruit Tycho.” She pulls out a sleek palm-sized device topped with buttons.

  In that instant, my eyes have just enough time to connect her words with the hinges on the platform floor, which separate us from Slade and the Imps.

  Slade’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Good luck.” Her finger jabs at the black box’s top button.

  The floor disappears, sending the five of us tumbling into the roaring abyss yawning below.

  The icy water hits me like a thousand syringes plunging into my body.

  Something tugs at me, pulling me upward. Then I’m breaking through a barrier. Sounds rip through my ears, muffled at first. I’m not sure where I am. Deep cold slices through the numbness of my skin.

  A high-pitched siren unclogs my ears. It blares again, only this time I realize it’s not a siren, but a scream.

  I cough up a mouthful of salt water, just in time to swallow another one.

  “Lucian! I gotcha!” Digory calls in my ear. He squeezes me tight.

  “I’m okay.” I spit ocean.

  “Gideon! You got her?” he calls to my right.

  I manage to turn my head enough to see Gideon treading water. He paddles toward us, Ophelia clinging to his side.

  “She’s good.” Gideon responds through puffs of frosty breath. “But we need to get out of this wa-wa-wat-er fast before we fr-”

  “I know that!” Digory shoots back. “Where do you suggest we go? The raft’s gone … ”

  During their exchange, I’ve been looking past them at a rectangular shape drifting steadily away from our position. The raft. And in it, the silhouette of a girl, her long hair whipping about in the wind.

  Cypress has stolen our only chance of survival.

  The thought of what will happen to the rest of us jumpstarts my heart. Sucking in a lungful of ice, I break free of Digory and dive into the water after her.

  “Lucian! Wait!”

  But Digory’s voice is drowned out by the splashing of my flailing limbs and the sound of my heart battering my ears. Every breath is a battle. I can’t feel my arms and legs as they carve into the water. My only focus is reaching that raft. I take in another gulp of frosty air and catch a glimpse of Cypress. I’m almost there.

  My strokes are short and fast. Arms dig up the sea. Feet gyrate as rapidly as propellers. Ironically, it’s Cassius I have to thank for becoming such a good swimmer. All those times when we were kids, racing each other in the swamps behind the electrical plant, swimming through all that muck, having to hold our breath to avoid the awful stink infesting our nostrils as we tried to push each other’s heads beneath the surface. And now, years later, he’s holding my head down again. Only this time, he’s not playing, and he’s not going to let me come up for air.

  The flash of fury fuels my strokes, faster and faster, until at last I reach the raft. I grab on to the side of the boat, leaning against it as I struggle to fill my aching lungs with air. I’m panting like a Canid. Slower. Breathe slower. I have to stop gulping air or I’ll hyperventilate. Everything’s hazy, and for a moment I feel like I’m going to pass out and slide back into the ocean for good this time.

  The panic jolts me into action. Digging my fingers into the rubber rim, I hoist myself up and over the raft’s edge. My left hip slams onto the bottom before I roll onto my back.

  I’m so numb, my body doesn’t even ache after that marathon swim. If it weren’t for the pain in my lungs, I might just be taking a little rest, sprawled out on this raft gazing up at the night sky.

  The starfield is shattered by a wooden oar that appears out of nowhere. It gleams in the moonlight for a split-second, then it slices in a downward arc toward my head. My paralysis evaporates like a puff of frosty breath. I roll out of the way.

  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 ro
w. “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.

  I lean forward and pinch his nostrils closed again, press my lips to his, and blow in more air. I think about all those times he stole my breath away. Why doesn’t he use it now?

  His eyes remain closed. His body still.

  Ophelia touches my hand. “I’m really sorry, Spark. He’s gone.”

  I yank my hand away. “No!” My fists pound his chest. “Come back!” Whomp! “Open your eyes!” Thwack! “Don’t”-slap-“Give”-slap-“Up!” Smack!

  “Spark! Let him go!” Gideon grabs one of my fists in mid-swing.

  Digory’s eyes snap open. Icy water spews from his mouth. He leans forward, coughing and gasping for air.

  “You did it, Spark!” Ophelia holds up the back of Digory’s head, steadying him against her.

  Relief floods me. Pushing Gideon aside, I squat beside Digory, pull the thermal blanket over him, and pat his back. “It’s okay. You’re okay now.”

  He continues to cough. But eventually it peters out, as does the trembling. Little by little, the pink returns to his skin. Finally, his breathing eases into a normal rhythm.

  His eyes wander around the raft, taking us all in.

  “I feel like a Squawker ran into me,” he says at last. His voice sounds a little weak, but at least it’s not laced with chill. “What happened?” He looks right at me. “The last thing I remember, you took off after … ” His eyes narrow at Cypress. “Her.” He bolts upright. “Warrick! You were drowning-!”

  “Take it easy, Tycho,” Gideon says. “At least you came back.” He glares at Cypress. “Quicker than some other people.” He looks back at Digory. The hint of a smile appears on his face. “You helped us out.” His head swings to Ophelia. “Both of us. We owe you one.”

  Ophelia nods.

  “Don’t worry about it, Warrick.” Digory smiles. “So, what happened to me?”

  “You just passed out,” I say before anyone else can respond. My eyes sweep Ophelia, Gideon, and finally Cypress before relaxing on Digory. “But the therm’s doing its job and you’re better now. And we have a Radio Tower to find.”

  Cypress just stares at me with a crooked smile painted on her face. Her eyes shift between Digory and me. “So much selflessness tonight is gonna make for a much more interesting competition during the actual Trials.”

  Gideon pulls out the map and rattles off the coordinates while I grab the compass, Ophelia and Cypress take the oars, and Digory trains the binoculars toward our destination.

  Behind us, the carrier is just a few specks of flickering light on the horizon. We’re all alone now, adrift in the engulfing blackness.

  I study the faces around me. Digory. Gideon. Ophelia. Cypress.

  No. Not alone.

  We have each other.

  “I see it!” Digory points into the distance.

  Before us, a tiny island looms, with a triangular tower at its center.

  We can barely contain our whoops and hollers. We did it. Together.

  As we approach the shoreline, the island flickers. At first I think it’s lightning from an approaching storm. Then the radio tower shimmers-and vanishes, along with the island, sky, and stars.

  Harsh lights come on. When my eyes adjust, I see that we’re actually indoors, in a vast domed tank, surrounded by huge empty walls.

  Screens.

  Congratulations, Recruits, Slade’s voice booms from the loudspeakers. You have successfully navigated through your first training Simulation without any casualties. This concludes Phase One of your training. Only two more phases to go. But I warn you. No more coddling. Now get your butt
s to bed. We start bright and early tomorrow.

  The elation on our faces evaporates like the virtual horizon.

  Fifteen

  “We’ve got three minutes before this thing blows sky high!”

  Cypress’s warning ricochets through the circle of fifty-gallon steel drums marked Toxic Waste, which surround us on all sides.

  “I know how to tell time,” Gideon hisses at her.

  Cypress scowls. “Based on your performance the last few weeks, I’ve learned not to assume anything where you’re concerned.”

  I shove past Ophelia to get between them. “C’mon, knock it off, people.”

  Gideon reaches an arm across the nearest cylinder, his glasses reflecting the blinking red light of the timer that’s keeping pace with the rhythm of my heart. “I think I got it.”

  “Careful,” Ophelia whispers. She hands him a pair of wire cutters as if they were a delicate piece of glass.

  “No sudden movements,” Digory says, right behind me.

  The sound of his voice ignites something inside me. He’s barely spoken to me these past two weeks-ever since I revived him during that Sim.

  I turn to him. Flashes of crimson dance in his eyes, thawing the ice into fluid blue. As our eyes meet we spark for a second, but then he looks away and the moment dies like a fading ember.

  As Gideon struggles to access the control panel, no one makes a sound.

  Finally, he turns and shakes his head, not looking any of us in the eye. “No use. I can’t reach it.”

  A sigh escapes Cypress’s lips. “Surprise.”

  Gideon thrusts the wire cutters at her. “I’m sure these’ll work on vocal chords.”

  She smirks. “It’d be fun to see you try, anyway.”

  I grip the drum myself. “There’s a lot riding on this. This bomb’s not going to diffuse itself.” I try to twist it around as carefully as I can, but it must weigh a ton.

  Without saying a word, Digory pulls me aside and grips the metal cylinder himself, lifting it a couple of inches off the ground. Thick cords bulge from the sides of his neck. His biceps threaten to burst through the sleeves of his damp T-shirt, which clings to his body like a second skin.