The Sowing (The Torch Keeper) (16 page)

“It’s all right, baby,” Mr. Ryland calls to Drusilla. “Whatever you decide, I can accept it. I’m proud to have you as my daughter.”

Drusilla is sobbing uncontrollably. “Daddy … I love you
so
much … ” She turns to Arrah.

“Oh, Arr … I love you too … I
can’t
… I can’t do this … ” She looks up to the sky. “
Please … don’t make me do this …
” Drusilla sinks to the floor. “I … I choose … ”

Mr. Ryland clears his throat. He gestures toward Arrah. “The one thing I want more than anything else is for you to get out of here and live your life. You have a better chance with her, Drusilla. Choose
me
.”

Arrah’s sobbing, too. “No, Dru. He’s your father. I understand. I love you too much to make you choose him.”

Recruit Drusilla. Make your selection now.

Drusilla’s eyes bounce between them. “I choose … my
father
!” she screams, burying her face in her hands and collapsing to her knees. “Daddy, I’m so sorry … I’m so sorry,” she wails over and over again.

Cage tries to hug her, but she shoves him away.

Metal spikes thrust from the ceiling above.

Mr. Ryland smiles. “I love you, honey.”

Then the metal slams down, impaling him. His head slumps over as a fountain of blood erupts from the wounds.

The holo fades, and we’re herded back into our cells in silence.

twenty-one

My eyes and nostrils are stinging from the stench of the rot
ting corpses filling the cart. Every bone in my body aches
from all the stooping and lifting.

For hours, we’ve been wading through the heaps of dead inmates that litter the stockades. We drag them into the wagon, haul them to the crematorium, and pile them into the incinerators. Back and forth, back and forth—a grisly conveyor belt of human tragedy.

If we don’t get out now, those of us who are left will be making this journey very soon.

Arrah finishes shoving the body of a middle-aged woman on top of the pile. The woman’s arm swings off the side, swaying from side to side like a grayish-blue pendulum warning that time is running out. No rigor. Must’ve been dead for a couple of days already, from the look and smell of it.

Arrah turns, smearing the sweat and grit from her brow with her forearm. She looks at me with eyes so dark they’re like twin black holes that have swallowed the light, after everything they’ve seen.

I know that look very well. It stares back at me whenever I happen to catch my own reflection.

“Did you see the look on Dru’s face, Lucian?” she asks. “She looked so frightened. So
lost
… ” I almost get the feeling she isn’t talking to me. Just trying to make sense of the horror in her own head.

But how do you rationalize a nightmare?

“And I couldn’t do a thing.” She rolls the wagon over to a body set apart from the others.

It’s Mr. Ryland.

His remaining eye has rolled up into his head and looks like a bloodied eggshell. The other socket is a craggy cavern where one of the spikes pierced it.

Arrah stares at him. Her lips are quivering. Tears mix with the soot on her face, streaming down her cheeks like black blood. She drops to her haunches. One of her hands touches Ryland’s face, caressing his cheek before closing his remaining lid.

I stoop beside her, covering the dark craters torn through Ryland’s chest with the tattered remnants of his shirt. Arrah smooths his hair. “He was going to be my father-in-law. Dru and I—we were going to be married. Right after I finished my training and she wasn’t in any more danger of being recruited. Why didn’t she let
me
die instead?
Why?
”

I grimace. “Trust me. I know, it’s hard. I’ve lost people too … ” I glance away. “Drusilla and you still have the possibility of a future. She loves you. Just like you love her.”

A bitter laugh bursts from her lips. She grabs Ryland by the arms and I take my cue and grab his feet. Then we’re lifting the body between us.

She stares at me across the corpse. “Even if we do make
it out of here, every time Dru looks into my eyes, she’ll
know that I’m the reason her father is dead. And I’ll
know
she knows. How can you have a future like that?”

I don’t answer. What can I say that won’t sound hollow?

We maneuver Mr. Ryland into the cart. “Careful,” she says.

Then it’s done. We return and load up for another trip to the furnace.

I grip her hand. “We’re breaking out today,” I mutter.

She squeezes me back. “Who’s
we
?”

“All of us.”

I nudge my chin toward Leander and Dahlia, who are trundling their own loaded cart toward us, followed by Tristin and Corin wheeling a smaller one. As soon as they’re close enough, I grip the handlebars of our cart and keep pace with them as we head toward the crematoriums.

Leander and Dahlia draw up alongside us. “Did you tell her yet?” he mutters through heavy breaths.

Arrah’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of us. “Tell me
what
?”

As we roll through the utility corridor and into the crematorium, I fill Arrah in on my excursion to the control room and the cache of weapons now hidden in the duct.

The glazed look in her eyes turns to surprise, and then the familiar Arrah starts to seep through. “You’ve been doing all that while the rest of us have been napping?” Her smile fills me with warmth. “Not bad. Looks like the Fifth Tier has a few surprises left in him.”

I smile back and nudge Leander. “I had a little help from the Second Tier over here. Leander’s not completely useless.”

“Keep talking, Sparkles, and you’ll see how useless my fist is.” Even without looking I can tell he’s smiling when he says this.

My eyes connect with Dahlia. “And of course I couldn’t have put this little Op together without our First Tier.”

She nods. “Thank you.”

When we reach the furnace, Dahlia helps me open the heavy iron door. Waves of heat emanate from the crackling, spooling flames. One by one we toss the bodies inside.

“We need to get away
before
the next Trial, or one of us ain’t gonna be along for the ride,” Leander says.

“Maybe we should rethink this,” Tristin interrupts. “It might not be safe. We have to have faith that—”

“
Faith?
” Dahlia whispers. “The only thing I believe in is putting a bullet in each of these bastards’ brains.”

Leander nods. “You got that right, D.” He turns to Tristin. “It’s great that you’re all in tune with the higher powers and shit. But nobody’s coming for us. The only thing that’s gonna save our asses is
us
.”

Staring at Corin’s vacant eyes sends chills through me. I muss the kid’s hair. “How’s
he
doing?” I ask Tristin.

“He’s not saying much these days.” Her smile is laced with sadness. She looks up at me. “But he’s hanging in there for now.”

Yeah, but for how much longer?

“That’s why we need to get out of this hell-hole now,” Dahlia murmurs, as if reading my mind.

Tristin pulls Corin closer to her. “I hope this plan of yours, whatever it is, will work. Does it include the Recruits? After all, what happens to them without any Incentives to fight for?”

“They get Shelved? Sent to bed without supper? Who gives a damn about
them
?” Leander pushes past Dahlia and gets in Tristin’s face. “Look. I don’t give a crap about your religious-pacifist bullshit. You, your brother, and the other insurrectionists are the reason we’re all in this mess in the first—”

I grip his arm and pull him away from her. “Leander.
Lay. Off. Her
.” My voice is steady, in control. “It doesn’t matter how or why we got here. It’s going to take
all
of us to get out.”

Dahlia shoves him with her shoulder. “You’re forgetting what they did to Rod-Man … what they did to … ” She closes her eyes for a moment and grits her teeth. “What they’ve done to
all
of us.”

Leander’s demeanor flicks like a switch. He backs away. “Sorry, D. Just trying to wrap my head around this whole … ” He runs a palm over his buzzed hair.

She shakes her head. “There aren’t any rebels, any Imps anymore. Only those who are getting away. And those who are going to die.”

Arrah steps forward and touches Dahlia’s shoulder, caress
ing it, trying to quell the fire. “I agree that we’re all in this
together—rebel and trainee alike. But Tristin
does
have a point. The Recruits are victims just as much as we are.” Her eyes find mine and I can see the desperation there. Of course she’s worried about Drusilla. Just like I worried about Digory once.

“Dahlia and Tristin
both
have good points,” I say. “I’ve taken the Recruits into account. I’ll fill you in on all the deets later. But the short version is, we’re outta here before the next trial. During our escape, we’ll set off explosive charges. I’ve already planted them throughout the ducts. That ought to keep the Imps busy and provide a diversion. The chaos will give the Recruits a chance to make a break for it.”

The furnace doors squeal as I slam them shut. I turn to face the others. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather go out on
my
terms. What do you say?”

They move in, until we form a circle. Arrah nods. “I’m in.” She holds out her hand and I reach out to clasp it.

“So am I,” Tristin murmurs. Her own hand touches ours.

Dahlia adds her grasp to the mix. “As long as we get to kill them.”

Leander smiles at me. “For Rod-Man.” His grip is firm.

A smaller hand reaches out. Corin’s. His fingers feel cool as they rub against my own. “Let’s kick their asses,” he whispers.

Someone’s coming down the corridor, and we separate.

“What do we have here?” Styles marches up to us, along with a couple other Imposers, hands on their holsters. I shift into a slouch.

He sneers at the bodiless carts, then back at us. “If the garbage has already been taken care of, what the hell are you sorry lot doing just standing around? Move it back to your cells unless you want to join the rest of the trash in the smoke box.”

His companions snicker alongside him as they herd us from the crematorium back through the corridors. I have to try to control the fresh spring in my gait. Whatever happens, this will be the last time we’ll have to burn bodies and walk down this path.

Instead of leading us to the showers first, Styles and his crew lead us right back to our cells. “Inside,” he snarls. Using the butt of their weapons, they prod us inside.

I stare him down. “Is that our punishment? No showers? I wouldn’t think you’d miss a chance to see us naked.”

He smirks at me. “Soon. But unfortunately, there’s no time.”

It feels like vermin are gnawing at my gut from the inside. “
No time ?
What are you talking about?”

He leans in real close and leers. “Timetable’s been moved up. The fourth trial is about to start.”

twenty-two

We’re taken from our cells and deposited on top of a circular field of sand, which is shaped like a giant ant hill with spiral pathways etched into the sloping sides. Our half-naked bodies are shackled together at the wrists by a long length of chain that’s embedded in a stone pillar at the top of the mound. Metal bands, containing a thin slot and a blinking red light, have been clamped around each of our necks. The lump in my throat is not solely due to the tightness of the band digging into my neck.

Directly ahead, on the far side of the field, Drusilla, Cage, Crowley, and Boaz emerge—in the flesh this time. They’re standing on a circular platform that rose up from beneath the sand, the hole sealing behind them with a serpent’s hiss as they step off. Just like us, they’re barely clothed.

Welcome Recruits, and congratulations on making it to round four of the Trials.

In spite of Cassius’s greeting, the four of them look anything but thrilled.

Scattered throughout the field are keys that will unlock both the collars around your Incentives’ necks and their manacles. There are only three keys available, and four Recruits. The collars have been equipped with a lethal neurotoxin that will be dispensed if not removed in time. The last Recruit to complete the task will be required to select which one of their Incentives will receive the toxic dose. Good luck!

BUZZ!
The shrill sound of the starting signal ricochets through the Trial field.

Drusilla tears away from Cage and Boaz, who take a few seconds to disengage from the ailing Crowley before sprinting off after her. Crowley teeters as he struggles to maintain his balance. This whole contest won’t even be close.

My hand finds Dahlia’s and I expect her to flinch and pull away, but her fingers slip into mine and squeeze firmly.

“It’s not over yet,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

“It will be soon,” she mumbles back.

Cage and Boaz have caught up to Drusilla. The three of them look feral, like cornered animals tearing through the crevices in the sand in a fight for survival. Then Drusilla’s arm emerges from the rubble holding up a flashing beacon. Dangling from it is a long, golden key.

“
I got it!
” Her elation is almost choked by a sob. But the wide smile on her face is eclipsed as the shadows of Cage and Boaz fall upon her.

Boaz holds out his hand. “Let me have it, Dru.” The calm in his voice is unsettling. He takes a step closer to her.

She backs away. “I
need
it.” Her glance shoots in Arrah’s direction, pleading, before boomeranging to her two fellow Recruits.

“It’s not for me.
” Boaz softens his tone. “It’s for Crowley.” He turns for a second toward their companion, who is slowly limping along in their direction. “He needs our help, Dru. Let him have this one and you can take the next one.”

Drusilla shakes her head. “I’m taking
this
key. If you find the next one, you can give it to him yourself.”

The anger returns to Boaz’s face. “It’s because of that girl.
That Imp bitch!
” He jabs a finger toward Arrah. “First Cage here, and now you. Whose side are you really on, Dru? Huh?”

“It’s not about sides. I
love
her.”

A harsh sound approximating a laugh bursts from Boaz’s lips. “
Love
? This coming from someone who murdered her own father.”

Drusilla recoils. I can feel Arrah flinch as if the chains that bind us are a string of nerve endings.

Boaz continues his rant. “These Establishment bastards are slaughtering our people and you’re too selfish to care.” He lunges at her, grabbing her throat and pulling the key away.

“Boaz, no!” Cage leaps for him. But Drusilla knees Boaz in the groin.

“
Ungh!
” He doubles over.

Drusilla yanks the key back and rushes over to Arrah. The chains connecting us rattle and pull taut as she grabs hold of her. Their foreheads meld together as Drusilla cups her face, laughter mixed with sobs. “I never thought I’d get to hold you again.” She fumbles with the manacles a few seconds before slipping the key into first one lock, then the other.
Click! Click!
The chains binding Arrah clatter to the ground.

Arrah throws her arms around Drusilla, planting kisses all over her face until their lips meet, first tenderly, then passionately, as if they’re sharing one final breath that will dissipate the moment they pull apart.

“I’m so … so sorry about your dad … ” Arrah chokes on her words.

“We can’t … not now … ” Drusilla’s tone is tender but I can sense the sharp edge, like a paper cut, barely scratching the surface but deeply painful.

I finally turn to Drusilla. “Get Arrah out of here.
Now
.”

Drusilla jams the key into the collar’s slot and turns. The device pops open. Arrah rips it off and turns to me. “Lucian—”

“Remember what we talked about at the furnace.” I force a smile. She’s still looking at me as Drusilla hauls her off to the safe zone.

Recruit Drusilla has released her Incentive and is the victor in this trial. Only two keys remain.

Out on the field, Crowley stumbles around while Cage and Boaz circle each other. If it weren’t for the occasional loud crunch of fists against flesh, you’d think they were dancing; their swaying, twisting bodies maneuver around each other in a spray of sweat and blood. Dark crimson trickles from their noses and mouths. Boaz speeds up his jabs. But even though Cage’s lip is swollen purple, he’s taking a defensive stance, holding back, not hurting Boaz as much as he could.

On the ground between them, another key glistens.

“I need it too, mate,” Cage rasps, sounding more desperate than I’ve ever heard him. “My
sister
—”

“And that
traitor
!” Boaz takes another swing, but Cage blocks it. “You think I haven’t seen it in your eyes? If you lose this Trial you could
still
save Tristin. But you won’t sacrifice him, will you? Even after what he
did
to us?”

“Shut up,” Cage rumbles.

Boaz takes advantage of Cage’s temporary distraction and bashes him in the face. Cage reels backward and Boaz lunges for the key.

Cage isn’t down yet. He grabs Boaz by the shoulder and hauls himself up. His fists are a blur.
Thwack! Thwack!
I can’t help but recoil from the sound of each impact. It’s as if he’s venting all of his rage at last.

“Cage!” Tristin screams.

But her brother doesn’t seem to hear her. Or doesn’t want to.

“They’re just playing it up for the higher-ups.” Leander nudges Corin in the shoulder and steps forward, shielding his view.

But the kid ignores him, pushing past Leander to get a better view. “Leave him alone, Cage!” Corin screams.

Boaz collapses, his face pulpy like potter’s clay.

Cage steps over him. He staggers over to us almost as if he’s on auto-pilot. His chest is heaving.

Tristin falls into his arms. “You shouldn’t have … ”

“It’s … going … to … be … okay.” His hands leave bloody prints on her skin as he pulls her close.

Our eyes meet for a second over her shoulder, and he turns away. Ashamed of what he’s done? Or that I know how he feels about me? Does he know I can never feel anything for anyone ever again?

Cage unlocks Tristin’s bonds, then turns and unlocks
mine.
“Thanks for looking after my sister,” he says as my neck
band falls away.

I nod. “Cage—”

He turns away and hustles Tristin to the safety zone.

Recruit Cage has released his Incentives. Only one key remains.

I grab for Dahlia’s hand but she shakes her head. “Don’t worry about me. It’s better this way.” Her eyes glisten and I see relief there.

Then I’m pulled away by Cage and thrust into the safety zone, helpless, as my foster mother’s daughter waits to be murdered.

A few feet from where Boaz lies, Crowley crawls across
the sand, his pale body covered in grit and scrawling a
bloody streak like the tail of a comet about to burn out. He slumps beside Boaz.

Boaz reaches out and touches Crowley’s head. “Aren’t we both a mess.” He tries to chuckle, but it turns into a cough and he spits out a mouthful of bloody saliva. His face turns serious. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you some help.”

But Crowley’s barely stirring now.

Boaz raises himself on hands and knees. Suddenly, he digs into the ground. A high-pitched laugh echoes throughout the field.

He raises his hand.

In it rests the last key.

My whole body tenses. This is it. Now Dahlia dies.

But instead of staggering over to the Incentives, Boaz stoops, grabs Crowley in his arms, and half-carries, half-drags him over to them.

To Dahlia.

Her eyes open wide. There’s confusion there at first. And then, regret.

Boaz thrusts the key into Crowley’s hands. “
You
have to do this, brother.”

Crowley’s eyes flood. He mouths something to Boaz. Even though I can’t hear it, I know he’s expressing his gratitude. Boaz is giving him a chance to live.

A chance for Dahlia to live.

Crowley steps over the line and almost tumbles.

Leander catches him in his arms. “You’re almost there,” he says. His voice sounds different than I’ve ever heard it before. Compassionate. Tender. Gently, he guides Crowley’s hands toward Dahlia’s bonds, holding them steady while Crowley unlocks her hands, then moves to her collar.

Dahlia is shaking her head. Tears stream from her eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Leander smirks at her. “You’ve always been First Tier, D.” He shrugs. “Guess this is one time
I
get to be first.”

The collar drops to the floor.

Recruit Crowley has released his Incentive. Recruit Boaz, you have emerged last in this Trial and must now make your choice.

Dahlia drags Crowley over to the safety zone. They
stand silently beside me.

Leaving only Boaz and Leander and Corin.

Corin takes Leander’s hand. “I’m not going to leave you.”

Leander swallows hard. “Thanks, kid.”

Recruit Boaz. Make your selection now.

Boaz turns to Leander with what appears to be genuine regret in his eyes. “Sorry.”

Leander looks in our direction and nods. “Not as sorry as these bastards are going to be when they find out what we’re made of. Flame Squad to the end.” He salutes us and Arrah, Drusilla, and I return it.

“I choose Incentive Leander.” Boaz’s voice breaks, losing its earlier bravado.

“I’ll be with you soon, Rod-Man.”

Then the smile on Leander’s face disappears, turning into
a grimace. His body convulses and his hands fly up to his
temples. Fountains of blood spring from his mouth, his nose, his ears. His eyes swell, then burst, spattering his chest with gobs of pulp. He collapses. Corin crouches down and cradles Leander’s head in his lap.

Dahlia stiffens beside me.

Around me, the others stare at the corpse.

The last thing Leander saw before he died was
us
.

That’s the same thing all the other Imposers at this installation are going to see.