Read Online The Culling by Steven Dos Santos - Free Book Online Page A

the sight of Cassius in his uniform and pride fills my heart. “He is .”
    Mrs. Bledsoe shakes her head. “I can still see that little boy cowering behind those eyes. Shy and angry all at once.”
    Unease settles over me. “I don’t know what you mean. Cass was always kind to me. Protective.”
    “There’s a very thin line that separates being protective and being possessive.”
    “I’m not sure I know what you’re saying,” I respond, feeling a little annoyed.
    She smiles. “No, I don’t suppose you’d be able to see it.”
    Cole’s busy stuffing his mouth with chunks of chocolate cake he’s lifted off the dessert tray. His mouth and fingers are coated with frosting, which he smears against the fine linen tablecloth, totally oblivious. I’m about to scold him but decide against it. For once in his life let him get sick of eating too much, even if he pukes it all up. It’ll probably be the last time he ever has the chance to. Besides, after the way I gorged myself in Cassius’s suite, who am I to judge?
    Cass returns to the table. His face is flushed, probably from nerves. “We’re ready to begin now.”
    I smile at him. “You’ll do great.”
    He just nods without saying a word and walks past us.
    As soon as he steps onto the balcony, his presence smothers the hubbub of the spectators below. The mic hovering over him activates with a low hum. The glare of spotlights brush over him, painting his body into a dark silhouette.
    “Citizens of the Parish,” he begins. “It is an honor to stand before you as your new Prefect, as one who has lived amongst you, on this Day of Recruitment, a time-honored tradition of service and dedication to the pinnacle of justice. The Establishment.”
    At first, the applause is lukewarm, but as the spotlights caress the crowd with their telltale beams, the momentum builds to a never-ending rumble of thunder.
    My eyes strain to catch an improbable glimpse of Digory in that multitude. I can’t help but think of the loneliness etched in his face. I know I need to make things right between us.
    After what seems like hours, Cassius holds out his hands. The din dulls into a murmur, and then to utter silence. “In addition to the mandatory military service required of all our youths on their seventeenth year, five individuals have been selected today, based on a combination of IQ, psychological, and physical aptitude tests administered during their final year at the Instructional Facilities. These Recruits shall be given the opportunity to train with the best and prove their mettle in the Trials, where the Recruit that excels above the others shall join the elite Imposer Task Force.”
    He turns to Valerian, who hands him a box covered in a mechanism made of ornate gold. Cassius enters a code into the digital display on its lid. The gears on the outside of the box begin turning, engaging each other like a jigsaw puzzle. Each twist and turn of a tumbler is broadcast over the Parish’s speaker system, amplified so much that it feels like the heavens are pounding down their fury on us.
    Mrs. Bledsoe is hunched over, trembling, her eyes wide sheets of glass. She gets to her feet and moves close to us. I have no doubt she’s remembering that day years ago when she stood in that very crowd, with her husband and her daughter, and listened as her life was damned to hell.
    Cole’s giddiness has drained away. He presses against my leg, saying nothing. His fingers find mine and clamp on.
    The last tumbler falls into place with a loud gong that echoes through the square.
    Cole lets go of my hand and covers his ears. I scoop him up into my arms, trying to shield him from so much more than the power of that melancholy note.
    The lid springs open with a drawn-out hiss.
    “Lucky, I’m scared,” Cole confesses to my ears alone.
    “Me too.” Why deny it, when my trembling embrace would betray me anyway?
    Cassius’s tongue traces his lips. He reaches into the box and pulls out a large