The Elect: Malevolent, a Dystopian Novel (8 page)

Jay’s coming my way. Those sharp eyes of his are locked on me. Oh shit.

My insides twist. Instantly, my palms become slick with sweat. I drag them down my thighs.

Am I in trouble for what I did to George?

Although Jay seems more stable and sensible than George, Jay’s still an enigma. I don’t know what to expect.

“Hello, Eva,” he says. He’s close enough to touch. My gaze wanders over his face for a moment. I can’t help relishing the perfection of one feature after another. The angle of his cheekbones. The straight blade of his nose. The strength of his jaw. Then it finds his hair. His hair makes my hand itch. I want to touch the tussled curls again, to feel the satiny softness.

“Hello,” I say back after I realize, embarrassingly, that I’ve been standing there, staring at him for way too long. Jay is my teacher. I need to be respectful and polite, and get over this silly
thing
I have for him, whatever it is.

“I heard what you did after I left this afternoon.”

Shit. Here it comes.
My face burns with embarrassment. My hand rests against my tender belly. “Um, yes. About that... It was stu--”

“First to reach the first safe house,” he interrupts. “And then you not only help everyone get across when the bridge was out, but you also aid Claire when she is injured. And now, you take a swing at George. You’ve made quite an impression already.”

I wonder if he means that as a compliment or a warning. “Um…I’m trying.”

He smiles.

Yes, a smile. I’m not getting kicked out.

His smile brightens.

Oh god that smile. It makes my heart race. It shouldn’t but it does.

“Welcome to the agency,” he says.

“Welcome? Does that mean I’ve already passed initiation?”

“No. But it means you’re well on your way. Just stay confident.” He pats my shoulder and turns.

“Th-thanks,” I say to his back as he walks toward the dining hall. My head is spinning. I don’t know what is making me feel giddier, what he said or the fact that he actually touched me. My skin tingles where his hand made contact.

“Wow,” Roy says.

I’d forgotten he was standing next to me. We’d left training together after I was knocked out. I stutter, “I’m…um…”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Roy’s gaze locks on mine. “Everything he said was true.”

I can’t handle the intensity of Roy’s gaze. I shrug my shoulders and stare at a wall. “He’s blowing everything out of proportion. I’m no hero. I’m just a girl who grew up on a farm, with no television, no computers, and no toys. I used to swing from a rope into the creek for fun. Who would have ever guessed that would come in handy someday?”

“Well, it did.” He points toward a table. I see Alice, Mattie, and Paul. No Helen. “Looks like Helen’s still out. I don’t see her.” He starts toward the group. I don’t. When he realizes I’m not following he turns. “Aren’t you coming?”

“In a minute. I need to go to the bathroom first.”

“Okay.”

I head out to the hallway and practically collide with Jay. I look up into that face and forget to breathe for a few seconds.

“Where are you headed in such a hurry?” he asks.

“The infirmary, I hope.”

“Do you know where the infirmary is?”

“No. But I know you do.”

He smiles. Does he not know what that smile does to me? “Of course I do. And I’d be happy to show you.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”

He motions down the hall. “It’s this way.” As we walk, side by side, he tells me, “Try not to worry about your friend. She’s fine. The doctors and nurses here are excellent.”

“Thanks. I’ll try.” As we round a corner, our arms brush. A weird quiver zips through me. I try to pretend I don’t notice it.

The hallway we have turned into is very narrow and dark. The air smells damp and stale. It feels like we’re miles underground. And alone. I hear no one. I see no one.

“Are the training sessions always so…violent?” I ask.

His lips thin. I can tell my question is making him tense. “Lately they have been,” he says very quietly.

“Maybe I’m stupid, but I just don’t see how having a big, strong boy beat the crap out of someone as small as Helen is accomplishing anything. Can you explain it to me?”

“No.”

I don’t say anything else. He doesn’t either. I think I’ve overstepped my bounds. Either I need to believe in this process and accept that I’m not going to like some parts of it, or I need to leave. I don’t know what is involved in fighting terrorists. Clearly it’s very physical. And, because the agency can’t afford to lose more members than it absolutely must, it’s in their best interest to prepare us the best way they can. If that means we need to kick the shit out of each other, then so be it.

We stop at a metal door. He opens it for me, and I step through. The walls are now all white. Brilliant, spotless, blinding white. So are the floors and the ceilings. And everyone I see is wearing white coats and green pants.

“Your friend is in the first bed.” He points at an open door.

“Thank you for showing me the way.”

“You’re welcome.” He lingers for just a little longer than I would have expected, leaving me confused and a little breathless. Whenever he’s around, the air gets thin and I can’t think straight. I want it to stop. And then again I don’t.

I break the connection between our eyes and step into the room. Helen is lying on what looks like a narrow bed, but there are buttons all over it, odd looking railings on both sides, and the head part is angled up. Helen opens her eyes and looks at me. She must have heard me come in.

“Hi,” she says.

There’s a chair next to the bed. I pull it closer to the bed and sit in it. “How are you feeling?”

She tosses a dismissive hand. It might have been a little more believable if it didn’t tremble. And if her face wasn’t more purple than flesh-toned. And if her eyes weren’t practically swollen shut and her lip at least twice its normal size. “I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Just a few bruises. And a very mild concussion. Nothing serious.”

Nothing serious? “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Yeah, I’ll be out of here tonight.” She rakes back her frizzy hair with her fingers. It doesn’t help much.

“Tonight? Really? Are you sure you’re ready to leave?” I ask.

“This place is driving me crazy. They’re poking me and prodding me every few minutes. It’s enough to drive anyone insane. Yeah, I’d rather be with you guys, even if it means I’ll get my ass kicked again.”

“Hopefully next time they’ll pair you up with someone who is more your equal.”

“Yeah, not you.” She pokes a finger at me.

“I’m not so tough.”

“You are grossly underestimating your strength. And I heard about what you did after they carried me away. You actually took a swing at George? The head of the whole agency?”

When someone said it like that, it sure did sound like an insane thing to do. “Yeah, I did. Got my ass beat for it, too.”

Her swollen lips curve. I think she is trying to smile. “Un-freaking-believable. I wish I’d been conscious so I could have seen that.”

“He slammed me on the floor and knocked the wind out of me. I lay there, gasping like a fish out of water. It wasn’t one of my finest moments.”

She laughs. At least, I think that’s what she’s doing. It kind of sounds like she’s coughing. “Still, that took a lot of guts.”

“Or a lot of stupidity,” I corrected.

She giggles. “Okay, so maybe a little of both. It was stupid and brave.”

I shake my head at my own idiocy. “Dumb and fearless. That’s probably a dangerous combination.”

“But useful.”

More likely, not. “Maybe,” I say.

* * * * *

Roy practically jumps me the instant I walk into the dining hall. “There you are. That took you long enough. Everyone’s almost done eating already. Are you okay?”

For a moment I forget what I’d told him before leaving to find Helen. But it clicked before I looked like a complete moron. “Oh, yes. Well, I sort of got side tracked. I visited Helen in the infirmary.” I make my way to the food line.

“How is she?”

“She says she’s fine. She doesn’t look fine. She looks like she dove off a three story building and face planted into a pool full of bricks. I hope they’ll take it easy on her for the next couple of days.”

Following me through the line, he cringes. “Yeah. Me too.”

I pick out my food and sit at the table with Alice, Paul and Mattie. Roy circles around the other side of the table, gives Mattie a strange look and she jumps up, full plate of food in her hands, proclaiming, “I’m done. I guess I’ll head back to the dorm.”

She doesn’t look done to me.

Roy slides into her seat, across from me. His gaze locks on mine and a weird, uneasy feeling twists in my belly. I stare down at my food, but the sensation won’t go away.

Why is he staring at me like that? Like I’d suddenly sprouted a set of wings or something?

Feeling jittery, I glance over my shoulder. I don’t know why I look back there, other than I need to look anywhere but at Roy.

Roy says, “Tomorrow, if I’m paired with someone like Helen, I’ll have to concede.” He looks at Paul. I’m glad he isn’t looking at me anymore. Until he speaks. Loudly, he says, “I can’t beat up someone weaker than me. I don’t get why they’re doing this to us.”

Oh, crap. He’s asking for a fight.

Paul glares. “Well, it wasn’t easy for me, either. I didn’t want to hit Helen.”

“Then if it was so hard, why didn’t you stop?” Roy demands.

“I did.” Paul stands and gives Roy a death stare. “You heard George yelling at me. George is the director of the NDA. I can’t just ignore him. Let’s just see what you do tomorrow if you’re in my shoes.”

“I know what I’ll do. Because I did it today. I refused to knock Damien out, even though George was ordering me to.”

“I was the first one, the first fight. I didn’t know I could throw up my hands and say ‘I quit’. I don’t want to known as the guy who kicked the shit out of a helpless girl any more than any of you. But what the hell could I do?”

Roy shrugs. He’s being a judgmental jerk. But I kind of agree with him—to a certain extent. I don’t blame Paul for what he did. I blame George and Jay for putting him in that position in the first place. “I don’t know,” Roy says. “If you ask me, it’s simple. We all know what’s wrong and what isn’t. We have to think for ourselves, no matter what.”

Paul grabs the front of Roy’s shirt and pulls him to his feet. Behind them, I watch the door swing open and Helen shuffle into the dining hall. She looks like hell, but she’s standing, walking. Coming toward us.

The room goes silent.

Paul and Roy see her and sit.

Helen jerks up her chin and takes her place in line. A couple minutes later she is standing at the head of our table, a tray in her hands. It’s trembling a little.

I motion to the empty spot next to me while everyone else gapes. “Helen, sit here. We were just talking about you.”

“No we weren’t,” Roy snaps. He gives me a sharp look. “We weren’t talking about her. We were talking about me and Damien, about the training fights and tomorrow.”

“What about tomorrow?” Helen asks. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” I tell her. “Nothing at all.”

I dream that Mattie is being hung off the roof and only someone who is able to scale a brick wall without a rope can save her. I can’t do that, but I dash toward her anyway. Just as my hand reaches for hers, someone shoves me hard and I sail over the edge.

I wake, sweaty and breathless.

I go to the bathroom and wash away the lingering memories of the nightmare under a blast of hot water. After I dress I go back to the dorm to see if anyone else has woken yet.

But my attention is diverted.
What the hell?

Someone has shredded my blanket and pillow? Why? Is it some kind of fucking joke? White stuffing covers the landscape, like snow. Mattress springs and foam bleed from long gashes in the mattress too.

I can think of one person who would do something like this to me. Rage roars through me as I whirl around. Alice is lying in bed, pretending to be asleep. But I know she isn’t.

Forcing myself to stay calm, I scoop an armload of white fluff and ripped material and dump it into the garbage can. Alice’s eyelids flutter a little as I walk past her. I halt. “Have I unintentionally done something to make you angry?” I snap.

She yawns, stretches and blinks. “Huh?”

“I said, what have I done to make you hate me so much?”

She blinks again. Her bewildered I-have-no-clue expression is pretty believable. But I know it was probably her. Of the twelve kids left, she has been the only one who has been mean to me. “What makes you think I hate you?”

A blast of fury rages through me. I hate liars. Ironic, yes, since I’m the worst liar on the planet. I suck in a deep breath and try to calm down. I’ve dealt with a bully before. I know any kind of reaction will make things worse.

Instead of unleashing my anger on a deserving Alice, I go back to cleaning up the mess she made. Behind me I hear her say, “Whoa, what did you do to your bed? Try to plant corn in it? Imagine that, she’s such a hick, she farms in her sleep.”

She isn’t making this easy. I want to punch her in the belly. A bunch of times. Until she vomits.

I bite my tongue until my eyes water. Then I blink because I don’t want her to think she made me cry. That would make things even worse.

Roy comes in and immediately starts helping me clean up the mess. “You can take my bunk,” he offers.

His kindness almost makes me cry. I’m so lucky to have friends like him now. Very lucky.

Once we have all the remains of the decimated pillow and blanket cleaned up, we head down to the dining hall for a quick breakfast before training.

“She’s an asshole,” Roy says. “Just ignore her.”

I know that’s what I need to do…somehow. But it’s easier said than done.

The heat of my anger still stings my face. I feel it as I smooth back a stray lock of hair that’s fallen out of my ponytail. I say, “A part of me thinks this training is bringing out the worst in all of us.”

“Maybe it is…for some of us.” Roy gives me a pointed look. “Not you. You’re doing great.”

The heat in my face amps up. “It may look that way now, but I guarantee I’ll have my moment.”

“I doubt that.”

“I don’t,” I confess.

* * * * *

When we reach the training room, six names are written on the chalkboard. The names are arranged in two columns. My name is the last one in the right column. And next to it is the name Henry. I don’t know which boy is Henry, but if he fights like Paul, I’ll lose. No doubt about it.

I have a feeling George did this to me on purpose. Payback for yesterday.

Roy and Tom are called up first, confirming my theory that the lists are arranged by fighting pairs. Unlike me and Henry, Tom and Roy are well-matched. They exchange several rounds of punches, each ducking or dodging away from the other’s strikes and avoiding any serious blows. It goes on this way for a long time, neither Roy nor Tom landing a single solid punch.

George, looking bored, sighs.

Finally, after several more minutes, Jay steps in, arms outstretched. “I call this match a draw.”

“No,” George snaps. “There’s no such thing as a draw in battle. There is a winner. And a loser. They’ll continue until one of them loses.”

The two trainers glare at each other. It’s another silent battle. I wonder what Jay would say if he was free to speak his mind.

Suddenly, Tom jabs his right fist into Roy’s belly, catching him by surprise. Shock widens Roy’s eyes. Then he folds over, arms wrapped around his middle. The room fills with a strangled, gurgling sound. A second later his breakfast splatters all over the floor and everyone jumps back. Someone behind me gags. My breakfast tries to join Roy’s, but I’m able to keep it down.

Jay steps up to stop the fight so the mess can be cleaned up, but George stops him with a sharp, “No. Let them finish it.”

It’s clear Jay doesn’t agree with his superior. It’s all over his face. But he concedes, crossing his arms over his chest. His jaw visibly clenches.

Tom swings again, this time striking his opponent in the jaw and sends him staggering back. Looking half-unconscious, Roy stumbles, he wobbles, and then he collapses, landing on his back, in his own vomit.

Fight over. Tom wins by a sucker punch to the belly. Dirty fighting isn’t just acceptable, it’s encouraged.

I glance around the room. Dirty fighting. Cheating. That will be the only way I will stand a chance against any of the boys here.

After a dazed Roy is hauled away and the mess is cleaned up, the second pair is called up. Two girls, Alice and a short, stocky girl named Fran. Their fight is nothing like Roy and Tom’s. Instead of exchanging powerful punches, they wrestle, they grab, and they kick. They use elbows and knees to slam into chins and stomachs. It’s a fast-paced outburst of violence that makes me wonder who these girls are and what they’re capable of. In fact, it frightens me a little, watching them. Unlike the boys, they don’t seem to need any prodding from George to fight. It ends with Fran lying on her back, out cold from a tooth-rattling kick to the face.

I don’t want to face Alice in a fight, ever. But I have the sick feeling I will, eventually.

Bleeding but clearly proud of her victory, Alice accepts George’s accolades.

“Now, that’s how it’s done.” He looks at me, and my belly does a flip. I hear him say my name. I see Henry, the quiet boy standing in the back next to Alice, step into the ring, painted on the scarred wood floor. My gaze goes to Jay. His expression is completely blank. What was I expecting to see? Did I think he would look worried? Or did I believe he would step in and demand I be paired with someone else? He didn’t do that for Helen, so why would he?

My heart pounds in my ears. Someone is speaking, I think. But the thud, thud, thud of my heartbeat is drowning their words out. I blink, and something slams into my face. I see a blur then stars. I blink. The world tilts. I feel my arms flailing. It’s hard to stand.

Pain.

My face.

Can’t see.

I blink. It hurts. But knowing if I don’t clear my vision, I’ll be beat unconsciousness, I fight to open my eyes. When I finally get them open, everything is blurry. But I can tell I’m still standing by some miracle. Henry is in front of me, fists guarding his face. A faint jagged scar cuts through his eyebrow. I wonder how he got it. A fight, perhaps?

I hear a sound, behind me. I turn around. Jay is watching us, arms crossed over his chest, mouth mashed into a hard line.

Remember to use your opponent’s weakness against him.

A lot of good that advice is doing.

Henry is almost a foot taller than me. His shoulders are wide. His chest is broad. His fists are the size of melons. He has no weakness. He’s bigger and stronger than Tom or Paul.

But I’m not going to make it easy for him.

Resolved to stay on my feet as long as I can, I lift my arms to shield my face. Henry caught me off guard with that first punch, but I won’t let that happen again…if I can help it.

He smiles. It isn’t a friendly smile. It’s an I’m-going-to-make-you-suffer smile that makes me want to inflict some pain on him before he beats me unconscious. But how? He’s ready for me. His hands are up, like we were taught, protecting his chin, eyes and nose.

I poke out a fist. It strikes his belly and my knuckles crack. Pain shoots up my arm and I stagger backward, surprised by how much it hurts.

It’s hopeless. My hands are too small to be any use. I’m too weak. I picture Alice and Fran. They used elbows and knees. Elbows and knees are hard and pointy and stronger than little fists.

Elbows and knees. That’s all I have.

When Henry lunges forward to hit me again, I bring my knee up. It hits him somewhere. I hear an
oof
sound. It’s a satisfying sound. I watch him hunch over.

“Fucking hick,” he growls.

It’s a miracle. I got him where it hurts most.

Ha! He
does
have a weakness.

But I know he won’t let that happen again…once he recovers. In fact, I know I’m in for a whole lot of pain. I need to get in as many elbows and knees as I can before he’s ready to swing at me. I let loose, kicking and slamming my elbow into him. I don’t take aim; I blindly batter him until he strikes me in the face. It feels like the world has flown out from under me. The pain blinds me. My head whips to the side so hard my neck twists.

He’s going to kill me.

I go cold.

I’m heavy. So heavy.

Can’t see.

“Enough!” someone yells.

Something hard slams into my body. The pain is unbearable. My face, my stomach, my chest.

I’m going to die. That bastard, Henry, is going to kill me. If only I’d gotten in one more kick.

Just one more kick. Then I could die knowing I’d made him suffer a little.

Heavy.

I’m sinking.

Pain is…dulling…

With blackness comes relief.