The Sowing (The Torch Keeper) (17 page)

twenty-three

We’ve been running on pure adrenaline for the last couple of hours since Leander’s death.

Down in the crematorium, my eyes water from the stinging heat of the furnace. Inside, resting on the metal rack, Leander’s body blackens as his crisping skin shrivels away to the bone. A recently virile and vibrant human being, reduced to nothing but a smoldering pile of ash in minutes. I’ve grown so used to the stench of roasting flesh that it barely registers anymore.

I feel like I’m the one that’s burning.

Tonight’s the night we either break out of this shithole, or go down taking as many of them with us as we can.

Either one works for me.

Since we’ve been under constant watch ever since the last trial, I have to dish out the details of the plan piecemeal—as we load more bodies onto the carts, mop out the grime from the cells, take our shower, and finally sit down in the mess hall, sharing what could be our last, meager meal.

Where once there were two tables, now there’s only one.

“So, you said you and Tristin are gonna come get us tonight?” Corin asks through a mouthful of gruel.

My eyes flick to Ensign Echoes, the lone Imposer, who’s standing by the doorway stifling a yawn.

“That’s right,” I reassure him. After everything Corin’s been through, I’m just glad he’s speaking again. The fire I saw in his eyes way back during our first encounter at the research facility is coming back. “After lights-out, Tristin and I will crawl through the ducts and set the timers on the charges I planted.”

Tristin gives him a hug and smiles. “Then we’ll come
back and use the access card Lucian and Dahlia stole from Renquist, to unlock the cell blocks for you guys to slip out.”

Dahlia swallows, her eyes staring ahead into nothingness. “Like I said before, opening the cell doors will transmit a signal to the duty guard in the control room. They’ll be on us in seconds. We have to be ready to take them on.”

I glance again at Echoes, who’s scratching his nose. “Don’t worry. I told you, we’ll have some firepower on our side. You’ll get your chance.”

Arrah lifts her water cup to her lips, covering her mouth as if she’s going to sip. “And you’re sure you have enough weapons?”

I stir the slop in my bowl with a finger, not looking at her. “At least enough to take the skeleton crew by surprise before they send for reinforcements.” My eyes sweep across them. “The explosives will distract any guards long enough for us to slip through the ducts, into one of the aircraft hangars, commandeer a Vulture, and get the hell out of this place.”

Corin is staring at Leander’s empty chair. “Where will we go?” he whispers.

I reach out and muss his hair. “Anywhere’s better than here.” I smile at him, but I’ve been thinking the same thing. Flee to where? We’ll be fugitives. If the Establishment doesn’t find us first, there are other things out there.

“Finish up!” Ensign Echoes calls from across the room. “Time to get going!”

The squeak of chairs fills the room as the five of us push away from the table as one. We give each other one last, knowing look. Within minutes, we’re back in our cells. The doors hiss as they seal shut. Moments later the lights are extinguished.

The only thing I can hear are the mingled sounds of Tristin and my breathing, and the throb of my own pulse.

Time passes. Maybe twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. Can’t be sure. I strain my ears. Footfalls in the distance. More doors closing. The low rumble of voices fading.

“Time to move,” I whisper to Tristin.

Climbing on top of the cot, I reach my fingers up through the darkness of the cell until they brush up against the slats of the grate leading into the vent shaft.

The lights flare on, flooding the cellblock and momentarily blinding me. My heart misses a beat, then shoves a couple of extra ones in to compensate.

Tristin and I stare at each other in shock, not moving a muscle.

“Lucian, what’s—”

I shake my head, cutting her off. They found out what we’re up to. Somehow, they
know
.

Do they have us under surveillance that I’m not aware? I’ve searched this cell from top to bottom, hundreds of times, and never found any hidden cameras. What else could it be?

Did one of our very own betray us?

No. After all we’ve been through, that’s something I refuse to believe. Even though it wouldn’t be the first time.

I glance at the vent shaft overhead. Whatever’s happened, now might be our only chance.

But before I can move, the cell doors spring open.

Attention Incentives,
an unfamiliar voice blares from the cell block speakers.
You will now exit your cells and gather in the main holding area. We have a special announcement to make.

Special announcement? This can’t be good.

Several Imposers, including Styles, are milling around brandishing their weapons. Judging from the grogginess on their faces, it looks like everybody’s rest period was cut short.

But why?

I follow Tristin out. Arrah and Corin look my way. They both have the same look on their faces—a blend of fear and curiosity. Arrah’s eyes are asking me what’s going on, but I can only shrug and shake my head.

Only Dahlia seems unfazed. She takes in everything with dead calm—no panic, no contempt, no rage—nothing. It’s as if Dahlia Bledsoe abandoned her body, leaving only a gutted shell. The only sign of life is the slow sawing of her ragged nails against her arms, digging deep enough to dredge up thin rivers of glistening red.

Cassius Thorn’s face fills the screen.

He nods. “Greetings, Incentives. I know that you are all wondering why your rest period has been interrupted in such an unexpected manner.” He pauses for a moment, as if he’s waiting for us to agree. “As you are aware, Recruit Crowley sustained an injury during one of the Trials.”

“Yes. We
know
,” I respond.

“Recruit Crowley’s condition,” Cassius says, “continues to steadily decline.” He sighs. “In fact, he is not expected to survive more than an hour or two at most.”

“He wouldn’t be in this shape if you’d given him medical atten—”

Styles shoves me with the butt of his weapon. “
Shut up!
You will not address the Prefect—”

Cassius waves him off. “It’s all right, Officer. Let him speak.” His eyes drill into me. “Actually, what happened to Recruit Crowley could have been completely avoided had his performance during the trial met acceptable standards.”

“Acceptable standards?” I scoff. “There’s nothing acceptable about any of this.”

“Crowley had the opportunity, just like all the other Recruits, to train and make the right decisions—”

“But—”

“His well-being and ultimate fate is in his own hands. A fact
you
of all people, Spark, should be well aware of, given your own brush with illness during last season’s Trials—oh!” His fingers massage his forehead. “Forgive me.
My
mistake. You didn’t obtain those antibiotics on your own. You relied on the pity of a fellow Recruit—what was his name?” He shakes his head and flicks his hand as if he’s shooing away dust. “No matter.”

“You know his name,” I say. “After all, wasn’t he on your payroll?”

“Enough time has been wasted,” Cassius says, not taking the bait. “Rather than waiting for Recruit Crowley to expire, thus eliminating himself as well as his sole remaining Incentive from the Trials”—his eyes prey on Dahlia for a moment—“we have decided to preserve the integrity of the Recruitment process and incorporate this unfortunate situation into the next Trial, which will take place immediately.”

My mind reels. Holding the Trial right now, especially given Crowley’s condition, means Dahlia, like Leander and the others, is as good as dead. No more reprieves.

Unless we don’t waste another second and make our break for it right now.

I scan the room. There are only three Imposers. Maybe we can take them out and make a break for the weapons cache hidden in the vent shaft—

Tristin’s hand brushes against mine. When I turn to her, she’s looking at me as if she’s read my mind. The shake of her head is barely perceptible but it’s there. I follow her eyes to where Corin’s standing, frightened and teary-eyed, just a few feet away from Style’s massive bulk.

She’s right. As much as I’m dying inside at the thought of losing someone else, there are still three other people counting on my help to get out of here. This time, I can’t put my personal feelings above everything else.

The screen showing the image of Cassius dissolves, replaced by a holo of Cage, Drusilla, Boaz, and Crowley, all lying in cocoonlike capsules. Tentacles of wire are wrapped around their naked bodies, which are strapped down to gleaming silver slabs as if they are about to be autopsied. The wires are connected to humming, blinking machinery. I can tell from some of the digital readouts on the display that all bio-functions are being monitored, just like they were when we were trapped underwater in the pods. While I would expect that the heart rate and breathing of the Recruits would be accelerated under these conditions, there’s one readout that’s too slow, barely blinking.

Crowley is fading fast.

As you can see,
Cassius’s disembodied voice says, creeping all around us,
the Recruits are incapacitated and tethered to neurostimulators. These are connected to pressure points throughout their bodies, and are capable of delivering sensations of the utmost pleasure—and the most agonizing pain.

As if on cue, a sharp pain stabs my gut. I can see where this is going.

This Trial will test each Recruit’s resilience and ability to withstand pain, in the event that one day they are captured by enemy forces and subjected to the most barbaric interrogation methods.

Each Recruit will be subjected to jolts of pain that will be inflicted in increasingly potent increments via the conductors attached to them. When the Recruit reaches the limit of their endurance, they will issue an indication for the exercise to terminate—usually in the form of a verbal plea, either spoken or screamed. Thus eliminated, they will either choose between their Incentives, or choose the form of termination of their remaining Incentive. In the event that the Recruit is unable to make their wishes known due to their own death—
the holo pans across the Recruits—
any living Incentive associated with said deceased Recruit shall immediately be shelved.

But don’t be alarmed,
Cassius goes on.
Undoubtedly, some of you are feeling that this trial is unfairly skewed, that the ability of some of the Recruits to endure pain has been severely compromised, as in the case of Recruit Crowley.

Even though I can no longer see Cassius, I can feel his eyes crawling all over me as he says this, as if it’s for my benefit alone. The holo shifts to a close-up of Crowley.

We have taken this factor into account when designing this challenge. That is why the Incentives will serve as a deciding factor that will affect the outcome.

At this, my throat runs dry. I turn to the others and we exchange a look that conveys more than words ever could.

There’s a hum from above, followed by the grinding and squeaking of under-oiled gears lowering devices in front of each of us.

I force myself to look at the shiny black box that’s hovering before me like a deadly arachnid dangling from its web. The names of the remaining three Recruits are embossed on its surface. Beside each name are two buttons, one green, the other red. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what they’re for.

Before you are remotes that control the sensory outputs to each of the Recruits. Your task is simple. Once the commencement signal is given, you are free to select a Recruit of your choosing and provide them with a dose of either pleasure stimulation, via the green button, or pain, via the red button. If you pause for more than five seconds between each selection, or do not make any selection at all—as some of you may be tempted to do—then the particular Recruit representing you will receive a double-dose of the pain option, making him or her more susceptible to failing the challenge and therefore putting yourself at risk of being shelved.

Cassius pauses before continuing.
Just one other caveat. If you decide to simply flood each Recruit with pleasure stimuli and forgo using the pain option, be cautioned that if there is no clear endurance winner after ten minutes, every single Recruit will be automatically eliminated, along with their remaining Incentives, and these Trials will come to a close.

I can tell from the crushed expressions around me that I wasn’t the only one planning to use this strategy.

I urge you to choose strategically and wish you the best of luck. Begin!

Instinctively, my finger jams against Boaz’s red pain selector. I cringe when his body spasms and his face contorts; it’s as if I’m also hooked up to the neurostims. I can’t inflict more pain on Crowley; Cage’s fate is tied to Tristin and my survival; and poor Drusilla and Arrah have been through so much, what with Mr. Ryland’s death.

Boaz is strong, he can take it—

Then it hits me. Boaz’s fate is tied to Corin’s, who in spite of being part of the rebellion is still a kid.

This is impossible.

I’ve wasted too much time. I have to choose another—

A buzzer pierces the room and Cage’s body convulses like a fish wriggling on a hook.

“Cage!” Tristin wails. “
Stop hurting him!
”

Out of the four Recruits, it seems like Cage is the one being bombarded with the most pain. Arrah, Dahlia, and even Corin must be gunning for him as their only viable option, since every hit Crowley and Boaz take brings Dahlia and Corin closer to death.

“Tristin!” I call without turning. “Concentrate every other move on delivering healing impulses to your brother. I’ll take care of the rest.” I don’t care that the others can hear me. I’m sure they have strategies of their own, and I don’t blame them.