The Choosing (10 page)

“We’re almost there,” Larkin said. “It’s just up ahead.”

Larkin jogged the rest of the distance and stood before a round opening in the wall. Carrington edged closer and saw that it was a small tunnel, maybe three feet tall and equally wide. A grate leaned against the wall beside
it and had the same dimensions as the hole. Carrington touched the grate with her fingers.

Larkin explained, “That used to cover this hole. It took me weeks to get it off. The metal may be old, but it’s still strong.”

“You did all this just to get out of this place?”

“Freedom is important to me.”

Even in the dark, Carrington could see the excitement in Larkin’s eyes. She obviously believed freedom was a possibility. But doubt came hand in hand with worry to assault Carrington. She wanted good things for her friend, but she knew the truth would still be the same after they’d climbed back into their beds. They weren’t free; they were just dreaming.

“Through and out
 
—hope you aren’t afraid of dark, tight spaces,” Larkin said.

Carrington followed her into the tunnel. As they crawled along, Carrington was certain that something moved over her fingers more than once. She shuddered at the thought of what lived in here and tried to keep as close to Larkin as she could manage.

The darkness lessened as they drew closer to the exit. It wasn’t long before Larkin was helping Carrington out into the night air and the two were standing far behind the Lint Stacks, staring up at the looming structures.

“Crazy, right?” Larkin said.

“I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

Carrington couldn’t keep the smile off her face. The cool night air felt soothing against her skin, and she suddenly wanted to laugh, to run. It was an extraordinary feeling doing something that wasn’t expected of you, doing something simply because you wanted to.

“Now what?” Carrington asked. She was ready for more.

“Aaron usually speaks on the outskirts of town, much too far out to walk, so we have to hitch a ride,” Larkin said. She surveyed the land to their east and started off toward the forest that ran along the edge of the Potomac River. Carrington called after her but the girl just signaled over her shoulder for Carrington to follow.

Hesitantly
 
—and only after checking in both directions twice
 
—she moved after Larkin. She crouched low and tried to match her friend’s speed. The girl had short legs that were surprisingly quick. She moved with speed and accuracy through the high bushes and into the surrounding trees. Carrington was heaving pretty heavily when they came to a stop behind a large boulder.

Larkin poked her head out from the side and looked around. Carrington did the same and gasped at the sight of a CityWatch vehicle idly hovering in the middle of a clearing. She yanked her head back behind the rock and felt her pulse skyrocket. She pulled Larkin down beside her but the girl smiled at Carrington’s reaction.

“Don’t worry; that’s our ride.”

Larkin was smiling, but Carrington felt nauseous.

“
That’s
our ride?” she asked.

Larkin nodded and poked her head out once more. “Yep.”

Carrington tried to wrap her mind around what Larkin was suggesting. Of all the people in the city, the CityWatch were the most devoted to upholding the Authority law, even giving their lives to defend it. But here was one who apparently was not only going to see an outside rebel speak, he was escorting two escaped Lints along the way.

Larkin was still watching.

“What is it?” Carrington asked.

“Oh, nothing
 
—just making sure he’s alone.”

Panic spiked through Carrington’s body. “Is there a chance he’s not?”

She shrugged. “Can’t ever be too careful.”

Carrington’s confidence in their ability to pull this off without getting caught and thrown in prison was shrinking.

“Looks like we’re all clear,” Larkin said. She stood, but Carrington stayed in her squatting position. Children shared
tales of what getting caught by the Authority was like, and her mother had certainly scared her with enough stories that she never questioned the law. Now, as if someone had lifted the floodgates, those stories consumed her mind.

“Carrington,” Larkin said. She had plopped back down beside her and was cradling Carrington’s hand in hers. “I promise, we’re going to be all right. I trust this guy; he’s helped me before. It’s going to be okay.”

Carrington swallowed her fear and nodded. Larkin helped her stand, and the two girls moved out from their safe place.

The CityWatch member turned at the sound of a twig snapping beneath Carrington’s shoe. He smiled and she felt herself relax ever so slightly. The young man walked toward them, his cheesy grin expanding as he got closer. “Was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show,” he said.

“Carrington, this is Helms,” Larkin said.

Helms held out his hand, took Carrington’s when she responded in kind, and placed a goofy kiss on her knuckles. “M’lady,” he said.

The light in his eyes was bright enough to make the night around them feel like day and Carrington couldn’t help but smile. The rest of him was dark, from his black uniform to his chocolate skin. He wasn’t as large as most of the CityWatch guards
 
—in fact, he was rather scrawny
 
—but he still held her hand firmly and she considered herself safe with him.

“Stop touching her, Helms; it’s creepy,” Larkin said.

“Just trying to be a gentleman.”

Larkin smiled too and Carrington watched the two exchange a lingering glance.

“All aboard, then,” Helms said as he climbed up into the driver’s seat.

The vehicle
 
—a sleek black machine that was shaped like a large egg with a tail and wings
 
—hovered a few feet off the ground. It was identical to all the CityWatch authorized vehicles that traveled through the city. Carrington had seen plenty, but she’d never been inside one.

Larkin climbed up into the front seat next to Helms, then turned and gave Carrington a hand up.

Carrington situated herself comfortably in the back. The car’s interior was more spacious than it appeared and was covered in soft leather. The dashboard featured an instrument panel that looked like a computer. Helms punched the 3-D icons before him, flipped a small lever, and the car eased forward.

A wheel sat in front of Helms, but he didn’t touch it. The vehicle maneuvered on its own, weaving in and out of the trees as it headed toward their destination.

“We’ll have to pull over and switch into manual mode after the last field marker. These things are connected to the grid and tracked pretty closely. I wouldn’t want anyone to get suspicious about why one was headed out of town,” Helms said.

The ride was smooth, like floating through air, which made sense considering that was exactly what they were
doing. Helms and Larkin chatted casually
 
—she asked him about some field test he had taken and he proudly boasted about his high marks. She laughed at things that weren’t necessarily funny, and the stupid grin on his face never wavered.

It was hard to miss the flirtatious nature of the banter that passed between them. Carrington watched, feeling a little like she was intruding, and tried to remain very quiet.

The ride turned rough after Helms switched the vehicle into manual. It no longer floated; rather, it bounced along the dirt on wheels. He talked less and used the steering mechanism to guide the vehicle. The turns were more harsh, the movement less fluid. Still, they maintained a good rate of speed and before long they were well beyond the outskirts of town.

Carrington glanced around, trying to make out objects by starlight. Most of the ground was bare, but occasional mounds of rocks formed sharp edges, and vegetation lay scattered among some old structures that were not much more than rubble. Dirt stirred under the wheels and left large clouds behind them as they traveled farther away from the comfort of familiarity.

They charged up a small hill and Carrington could see a large abandoned building at its peak. She thought she saw light flicker in one of the windows as they approached, and she felt the vehicle slow and pull around to the side of the structure.

More vehicles came into view; people, too. Some stood
watch while others filed into the building. The stars were bright enough to make out many different uniforms
 
—other CityWatch guards and Lints, families from the Cattle Lands and Farm Lands, business owners, children
 
—all gathered together, greeting one another as if they were family.

Helms parked his car with the others and came around to offer Carrington his hand. She climbed out of the car, shock still buzzing under her skin. Larkin tucked her arm through Carrington’s and led her into the building. People were headed down into the lower level, bundles of supplies strapped to their backs or tucked under their arms. They carried blankets to sit on, food and drink to share, and extra coats in case a breeze rushed in.

There were dim lights set every couple of feet as they moved down the stairs. Then Larkin pulled Carrington through a final arch and onto the main lower-level floor. The room opened up into what looked like an unfinished basement. It stretched deep and dark
 
—the walls stone, the floor cold gray
 
—but in the center a lively group of people was collecting, laughing and telling stories, sharing lights. It was unlike anything Carrington had ever seen.

Larkin found a spot toward the front of the group. Helms took a place leaning against a large beam behind them with a few other guards, all of them smiling and greeting one another as friends, not as coworkers.

Carrington managed to sit down without falling backward. How could any of this be possible? These souls
looked as if they had been meeting this way for an eternity. She couldn’t pull her eyes from the crowd until they landed on an individual standing in the center of the group. She was dressed in common clothes, her hair loose around her shoulders and gold even in the dim lighting. Carrington couldn’t see her face, but she knew if she could, she would find dark-emerald eyes, light skin, and a perfect complexion. The girl definitely favored her mother over her father. Carrington blinked hard to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

“She’s real,” Larkin said.

“That’s Arianna Carson,” Carrington whispered.

“She’s been coming to these meetings longer than me. At first people didn’t want her here, since her father could sentence all of us to a lifetime in prison, but she continued to come and others began to see that she was as hungry to hear what Aaron had to say as anyone. Now, seeing her here, people have hope that maybe things could be different someday.”

Arianna, Carrington knew, was the eldest of Ian Carson’s three daughters. Since the Authority President didn’t have a son, whoever Arianna married would be considered for the position when Ian stepped down. Arianna was only fifteen and wouldn’t participate in a Choosing Ceremony for another two years, but once married, she might have some sway over the way her husband led, if he were awarded the presidential seat. There were murmurs that change could be possible.

“You’re new. I’ve never seen you before,” a little voice said to Carrington’s right. She turned her attention away from Arianna and saw a small child, her white dress swinging to her knees, her black hair braided and draped across one shoulder. Her eyes were like blue diamonds and Carrington saw Warren in her little face. She wanted to reach out and wrap the tiny creature in a hug, but she restrained herself.

“Here,” the little girl said, holding out a small yellow flower.

“What’s this for?” Carrington asked.

“It’s beautiful, like you.” The little girl took a step forward and tucked the stem behind Carrington’s ear. She giggled and ran off before Carrington could move.

“It
is
a beautiful flower,” another unfamiliar voice said. Carrington turned forward and found a middle-aged man squatting in front of her. His face was tan from days in the sun, and he was unshaven, his dirty-brown hair hanging to his ears. He had a small build but didn’t seem too thin. A loose white T-shirt hung off his shoulders and brown pants covered his legs. He was every bit average looking in his plain-colored shoes and the denim jacket cradled across one arm.

Yet his eyes were extraordinary
 
—soft brown, like warmth reaching through Carrington’s chest and touching her heart. She felt vulnerable, naked. It was uncomfortable, but she didn’t want him to look away.

“May I?” he asked, pointing at her flower. She reached
up to pull it out from behind her ear and handed it to him. He gently grasped it between his fingers. He smiled at the flower, and Carrington’s heart skipped.

“Do you think this flower is beautiful?” he asked.

“Yes,” Carrington said.

“And what do you think is its purpose?”

Carrington scrunched her face in confusion. “Its purpose?”

“Why does it now sit in my hand?”

“It’s beautiful, so it was picked.”

“So it’s the picking that gives it its purpose, and its purpose is to be beautiful. Was it not beautiful before the little girl picked it?”

“Well, yes, it was.”

The strange man smiled and softly chuckled. “Exactly. It was always beautiful, even as a seed, because it did the most amazing thing!” He swirled it around in the air like it was magical, and Carrington couldn’t fight off her smile.

“What?” she asked through a giggle that surprised her.

“It grew.”

His eyes again touched Carrington’s heart, and a strange emotion swelled within her.

“I believe the flower’s purpose is not to be beautiful; it is to grow. Many seeds shrivel in the ground, but this one grew, and therefore it has been picked already, it is chosen already, it is beautiful already.”

His words tugged at something deep within and she felt tears spring up. She dropped her eyes from the man’s face
and scolded herself for reacting so dramatically. He was just a silly little man. He reached out, grabbed her hand, and sweetly placed the flower in her palm.

She looked up and saw his eyes were filled with joy. He bent down and placed a kiss on her palm beside the flower and brought his head back up.

“You are as beautiful and chosen as this flower,” he said. “Welcome.”

He stood from his spot and walked to where he could face the rest of the group. Carrington glanced toward Larkin and saw that the girl’s eyes were wide with wonder. The entire room was silent. Everyone had watched her interaction with the man, and all eyes had followed him as he moved forward.

Could this be the great teacher Aaron?

Carrington looked back to the flower in her palm and stared. Suddenly she found it difficult to breathe evenly and to stop the flow of tears. It was Aaron
 
—it must be. And abruptly Carrington understood why Larkin and these others were willing to risk so much to come and hear him.

“Everything grows,” Aaron said from his new position, front and center. “All living things take a journey. A journey, for many, that consists of constant remembering and forgetting. Does a flower forget its beauty? Does a bird wonder whether or not its wings are lovely? What about those of you here
 
—do you forget? Many of you look around this group and see the colors of your uniforms and, with each
uniform, a label. That label becomes your defining characteristic, your mark on society.”

Aaron paused and started walking around to the right side of the group. “The Authority has taught you to believe that the color of your garment gives you your place. They say that in knowing your place you have peace, that easy lines can be drawn, that you can discover God’s purpose for your life. But I say that the Father tells you a different story. A story free of labels and false identity.”

He continued to circle the group, all eyes following his movements. “What if I asked you to strip off your uniform, to shed the color that gives you purpose? Would you be able to label one another then? Would you be able to pick out the guards, the workers, the Lints?”

A cluster of people near Carrington whispered, discussing these ideas.

“What then would set us apart? Man and woman, blond and brunette, short and tall, skinny and fat?” Aaron asked.

Several children in the front row giggled at his words and he smiled at them with sincere fondness. “What if you could abandon all of the labels the world has placed on you? Who would you be then?” Aaron let the question hang in the air for a long moment. Carrington was picturing herself without all the things that outlined her purpose: her place, her femininity, her failures. What would be left? Nothing. The warmth that had lit her heart was fading. Aaron’s words made little sense.

“That is the journey, my friends. The journey of dis
covery, the journey of life! Imagine what it might be like to truly uncover your identity
 
—who you are outside what you have been told you must be. Perhaps if you knew
that
identity, you would not see uniforms when you looked at each other; you would see with clear vision.”