The Letting (5 page)

“But Phoenix,” the blond boy protests.

“Let her go,” Phoenix repeats. Phoenix wears a shotgun across his body. He reaches up and pulls the gun to the front, holding it in one hand. The blond boy drops my arm. I crash to the ground.

“Who did this to her?” Phoenix asks, looking at my injuries as he crosses to me. He puts out his hand and helps me up. His hand is rough and warm, and although he represents everything I have been taught to fear, I am incredibly grateful for his kindness.

“She came to us this way,” the blond boy lies.

“Oh really?” Phoenix asks. “And if I asked her, she’d agree?” Phoenix looks me dead in the eyes, and I am suddenly not afraid.

“I fell. In the woods,” I mumble, unable to explain why I lied to this kind boy to save the awful one.

“I see.” Phoenix looks at me. The heat I feel racing through my body is no longer caused by the stifling night air. I stare back at him, and though I am certain his attention lingers on me merely to assess my damage, I am drinking him in. He is tall, a few inches taller than me, and his eyes…his eyes are the color of a moment. That fleeting moment when the summer sky is so perfectly blue you know everything must be right in the world. His hair is short, black, and tousled in a way that hides his shy waves. The slight scruff growing over his lip and on his chin is black as the night as well. He wears a sweat-stained, olive green t-shirt that is tight across his arms and hangs perfectly over his lean body. It falls just over the top of his jeans. I am painfully aware of my damaged face, and that I have been staring at him for much, much too long.

He doesn’t smile. Instead, he turns away. “Whoever did this,” he announces, “is as much of an animal as she is.”

His words hurt worse than the beating.

“Do not touch her again, Gunnar,” Phoenix informs the blond boy.

Gunnar. Gunnar. Despite my aching pride and stomach, the name Gunnar sticks with me. It means something to me. Why do I know the name Gunnar? I run through the names of the very few men I have ever known personally. My history teacher, my boss at the factory, the man who sold my mother our protein bars. There were too many boys working at the factory to know all of their names, but still…Gunnar, Gunnar, Gunnar…

“Günter?” I speak too loudly, and they all turn to me. “It’s not Günter, it’s Gunnar. I know why I know that name.” And suddenly I realize what is happening. “No,” I whisper, devastated, taking a step back from all of them. “No,” I repeat, quietly defeated.

My eyes scan each of them until they land on the smallest figure in the group, still hovering in the background.

“Gretchen?” I ask. “It was Gunnar you were saying, wasn’t it? All those nights I woke up to hold your hand through your nightmares. Come on, Gretchen. The least you can do is come forward and face me.”

Chapter Three

Gretchen steps forward but is unable to look at me.

“Why are you doing this?” The anger I’m feeling makes my blood boil. My heart is pumping faster, making my fresh wounds throb in response.

She doesn’t answer. At this moment, Gretchen’s weakness repulses me. I can’t help but think if she was stronger, mentally and physically, she wouldn’t have fallen into this, whatever this is, and she would not be a traitor.

“For what?” I am incensed. “A boy?” I ask pointedly, looking at Gunnar. “You know that’s illegal.” They all seem to smirk at me at once. “And besides, you could do so much better.” I hope to wipe the smirk off Gunnar’s face. It works. He sneers at me like a wild dog, but she doesn’t answer. “Come on,” I implore. “You’re my best friend, Gretchen. We live together. How? How could you do this to me?”

“How could she do this to you?” Gunnar asks, shaking his head. “You have got some nerve,” he shouts at me, walking straight up to me. He is standing directly before me. His spit splatters my face when he speaks.

I reach up and wipe it away. Then I can’t help myself. I smile at Gunnar and it enrages him. “Do you see this?” Gunnar asks, fuming. He turns to Phoenix. “She’s smiling at me. After everything she’s done. Let’s just kill it now.” He grabs a machete from the pile of weapons closest to him.

In that instant, I don’t know why he hates me, but I know how much he hates me. Being hacked to death by a machete must be one of the worst possible ways to die. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gretchen has turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. So she really believes he’ll do it.

I hate this boy.

“We’re not killing her, yet,” Phoenix tells them. Despite the word
yet
, this makes me feel a little better. I feel the tension in my body lessen. But as my adrenaline drops off, the pain intensifies. I feel my knees buckle, and I drop to the ground.

“We need a plan.” Phoenix turns to Gunnar and Buzzcut. “After all of the months spent hunting her, it’s ironic she came to us. And now we have no idea what to do with her.”

“Why would you hunt me?” I ask, genuinely confused. Phoenix looks at me with profound sadness in his eyes. I don’t expect them to answer me. I was taught that rebels are fiends and if we are caught, and can somehow escape, we are to run deep into the woods. Never, under any circumstance, do you lead a rebel back to your camp. They will steal your supplies, kidnap the girls, and leave you dead.

“Let’s get her over there.” Phoenix points to a long pole next to a basket of weapons. “We can tie her to that. In the morning, we can decide what to do with her.” Gunnar and Buzzcut each take me by an arm and lift me to my feet.

“You can’t.” Gretchen finally breaks her silence.

“What do you mean we can’t?” Gunnar asks, indignant. “Since when do you make the rules here? You had one job, and as I remember, we wasted a whole lot of time waiting for you to decide the time was right. I’m not waiting any longer.” He shakes me as he speaks and pain radiates through my body.

“Yeah,” Buzzcut says, his head nodding intensely. Phoenix holds up his hand to silence them.

“Why not?” Phoenix asks Gretchen, calmly. “Why can’t we hold her here for the night?”

“Because she’s been summoned to the next Letting.” Gretchen’s words have a deep impact on Phoenix.

“Well how do you like that?” Gunnar asks, clapping in appreciation. Buzzcut whoops and claps along with him.

“But I don’t understand.” Phoenix’s voice is soft. What he says is meant only for Gretchen. “She must be eighteen years old.”

“I’m seventeen,” I clarify, and I’m not sure why I speak. Phoenix looks at me, confused and yet, curious.

“You’re only seventeen?” he asks, obviously surprised.

“Yes,” I answer, softly. “I’m just…very…tall.” For a moment, I think I see a smile try to dance across his lips, but it disappears as fast as it came.

“Who cares how old it is?” Buzzcut asks.

“Imagine the damage it’ll do when it’s eighteen?” Gunnar adds. So they’ve been listening to everything.

Phoenix turns his back to the boys and in doing so, he has created a small semicircle with Gretchen and me. The boys walk away, and I watch their animated speech pattern. I know they’re talking about me. Phoenix looks at Gretchen when he speaks. “Even at seventeen, still, she must have…” He looks down at the ground now. Even in the dark of the night, I can tell he’s embarrassed. He looks young now. Almost sweet. At this moment, it’s hard to believe he’s a crazy, kidnapping murderer.

“I have,” I confess, trying to gain control of the situation. “Six years ago.”

Phoenix looks up at me, nodding.

“Then why do they want her?” he asks the two of us, and for a split second, it feels almost as if he’s on my side. I give myself the luxury of staring at the dimple on his right cheek, concealed beneath his scruff. But no. I force my eyes away. It doesn’t matter how handsome he is, he is still bad. And besides, any feelings for him would be forbidden and therefore, suicidal.

“What I imagine is that there must be an extreme shortage of O.” Gretchen speaks in her calm and clinical way. Gretchen would be an excellent Caregiver if she was ever allowed to have an education beyond fifth grade.

Phoenix nods, trying to make sense of the situation. The exact same thing I’ve been trying to do for the past several hours. “Or else…,” she adds, “or else they’re summoning her to the New World.”

“Veronica?” Phoenix asks with complete surprise. He speaks my name with a familiarity that makes my insides tingle.

“Yes.” Gretchen nods solemnly.

“But why would they take her?” he asks. “She’s their top performer.”

“I know,” Gretchen agrees. “We can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?”

We all turn to see Gunnar has made his way back to our little group.

“Gretchen?” he asks. “Why not? Why can’t we let them take her? Gretchen, are you getting soft on me?”

At that moment he takes the gun he holds in his hand and prods me in the stomach with the barrel. I lose my breath and fall backward. Phoenix puts out his hand for me, and I grab it instinctively. Once I am steady, he shakes free of my grasp.

Gretchen does not even flinch. “We could have some fun with her, guys,” Gunnar continues. “Put our mark on her tonight so we get the credit. Make her a no-show for the Letting and deliver her straight to the doorstep of the Inferno ourselves. Good riddance, I say.”

“No,” Phoenix declares definitively.

“Why not?” Gunnar asks, standing toe to toe with Phoenix.

“Because the point is to destroy their perfect system. And if they are planning to take her to the Inferno, and we deliver her to them, it wouldn’t so much as cause a ripple in their system. After all of this time, after all of these plans, we will not let them win. Even if their win would be a victory for us as well.”

“Fine.” Gunnar backs away from Phoenix and paces, clearly agitated. “Then let’s do her in right now.”

“Yeah,” Buzzcut chimes in. “Let’s do it, now.” The two of them point their guns at me.

“No,” Phoenix repeats, even more calmly. I am suddenly aware the only thing keeping me alive is an unformed plan of an untrustworthy boy who hates me, and a girl who’s betrayed me.

“Why not?” Buzzcut asks, bouncing up and down on his toes.

“Because we need her,” Phoenix blurts. Once he’s said it, I can tell he is as surprised as the rest of us.

“What?” Gunnar asks. “Need her? For what? Are you insane?” Despite the terror I am feeling, I laugh at the irony of this question. They all look at me until Buzzcut breaks the silence.

“That’s bogus, man,” Buzzcut argues.

“We don’t need her, Phoenix. That wasn’t part of the plan.” Gunnar’s breathing is shallow, and I can tell he is angry. He is speaking through his teeth, trying to remain calm.

“Neither was the fact she just stumbled into our camp,” Phoenix snaps. “And besides, the best plans adjust when the circumstances change. And none of us, none of us, thought she would be called to the Letting. There has to be a reason. We need to find out why.” Gunnar and Buzzcut grumble to each other, unhappy, but I can tell they are resigned to follow Phoenix’s lead.

“So what’s the plan?” Gretchen asks, softly.

“I don’t know, yet.” Phoenix runs his hand through his hair. “But no one hurts her until I figure out the best way to make this situation work to our advantage.”

“All right,” Gunnar succumbs. “But I hope it’s our situation and not your situation you’re worried about.” He points directly to Phoenix, looking from him to me, and back again. Phoenix straightens himself and stares at Gunnar.

“After all of this time, Gunnar, I would assume you, of all people, would trust me to do the right thing.”

Gunnar nods sheepishly and looks away.

“She’ll stay over here, now,” Phoenix indicates where he wants me, “until we have a plan. How long do we have until she’s missed?” he asks Gretchen.

Gretchen looks out at the moon lingering over the mountains. “Three, maybe four hours. Any longer and she will definitely be missed. Especially the day before her Letting.”

Phoenix nods, takes my arm firmly but gently, and leads me to a pole anchored deep in the ground.

“Put your arms behind you, please,” he instructs.

I do and he carefully ties my hands together first, and then to the pole. I feel him purposely trying not to touch me.

“Gretchen?” He calls her over. “Please keep an eye on Ver—her.” He stops. It’s as if he suddenly does not want to use my name. “Call us if she gives you any trouble.”

Gretchen nods. Phoenix stands and walks away with Gunnar and Buzzcut close behind.

Gretchen and I sit in silence for a long time before she asks, “Are you hungry?”

I don’t answer her.

“Thirsty?”

Again, I do not answer. I look away into the black of night.

“I understand. Really. But what if you make it to the Letting? If you’re dehydrated it won’t be successful.”

I roll my eyes at her, knowing there is no way these maniacs will deliver me to the Letting so I may do my job. I’m so angry with her for thinking she can patronize me by playing to my patriotism like that.

“No?” she asks.

I keep my head turned, stubbornly.

“Doesn’t matter?”

I still don’t speak.

“Well, let me tell you something. If they need O, they will do anything they have to, to get it from you. Heck, they’ll probably even find you here in the absolute middle of nowhere.” She looks off into the night. “And when they do find you, they’ll drain the blood from your arms, legs, between your toes, the backs of your hands—all the places you’ve seen bandaged when the girls come back to us. But they won’t stop there. They’ll get it out of you however they have to, even if it means sedating you and draining from multiple sites. Multiple, Ron.”

“Don’t call me that,” I hiss.

“Fine.” She tosses her ponytail over her shoulder and bites down hard on her bottom lip. After a moment, she speaks again. “Do you know what multiple draw sites can mean, Veronica? Do you? They can kill you, Ronnie.” She speaks much more softly now. “They can kill you.”

“They wouldn’t do that.” I am disgusted with her.

“Why not?” Gretchen asks, plainly. “Why not?” she repeats. “Because you’re the great Veronica Billings—the girl who’s brought more young girls to the Lettings than anyone else in history?”