The Choosing (18 page)

Then everything swept into high definition. The doctor wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and announced the time of death as the other two guards leaned forward, defeated. The cell filled with silence and then Dodson kicked the steel-barred door and its echo reverberated through the room and down the corridor. It rocked Remko out of his paralysis and set him on another path.

His fighter instincts took over and without thinking he walked out of the cell and back the way he had come. His eyes focused forward, his heart beating out a strong rhythm. Rage rippled down his spine; hate centered in his vision.

“Remko, where are you going?” Dodson asked. “Remko, stop.”

Remko shut out his commander’s words and picked up his pace. His jog swiftly turned into a sprint as heavy
running footfalls echoed behind him. He was faster, though, and he rushed out into the night air, where a handful of guards were holding the man they had brought from Helms’s cell.

Remko didn’t stop until he was inches from the prisoner and the collar of his shirt was wrapped in Remko’s fist. His other hand landed with a powerful blow to the criminal’s face. The man’s head snapped backward, his lip split open. Remko hit him again and again. He connected at least four good times before the other guards were able to restrain his arm. Then Remko threw his forehead forward and cracked his skull against the man’s head, the sound exploding into the sky.

The villain started to laugh, low in his throat, and it fired Remko’s anger. He managed to yank himself away from the guards and rushed the prisoner, sending them both sprawling to the dirt.

Remko wrapped his fingers around the man’s thick neck and let his rage funnel through his arms. The man coughed a laugh and opened his mouth. “I was just following Authority orders.”

Remko paused for a moment, which gave the other guards the time they needed to peel him away from the man he would have liked to beat to death. Guards helped the criminal to his feet and he locked eyes with Remko. A small crooked smile formed on his face and Remko tugged against the men holding him.

“Calm down, soldier!” a guard yelled, and a group of
CityWatch men dragged Remko back to the front of the prison. “Get ahold of yourself!”

Remko’s consciousness started to resume control, his actions registering one at a time, and he stopped struggling. His breath came in short huffs. Blood and sweat streaked his face. Dodson moved into view and placed himself inches from Remko, the smoke from his freshly lit cigarette flooding Remko’s mouth.

“My office, now!”

Remko sat motionless and watched while Dodson Rogue paced back and forth inside his large, wood-infused office. The floors, the walls, the furniture, the fan swirling overhead
 
—all were the same reddish-brown tone that glistened in the light and amplified every movement. The place smelled like wood, too. Wood and smoke.

Remko watched the smoke from Dodson’s third cigarette form misty images in the air. Now that he was removed from the chaos and in a place where his blood was no longer pounding in his ears, drowning out the voice of reason, Remko realized how much trouble he had caused. He knew his actions were a violation of the CityWatch code of conduct, though he couldn’t fully collect his memory of the event. Every time he saw the dried blood on his hand and remembered the man who had murdered his best friend, rage hot enough to set the room on fire burned in his gut.

Dodson hadn’t said much, and most of what little he did say was to himself. Cursing, shaking his head, muttering that he was too old for this, saying that losing Helms was a waste and should have been prevented. Remko was waiting
for Dodson to blow a fuse and start railing at him, but he just continued to pace and smoke like a puttering train.

He pulled the cigarette butt from his lips and rammed it into his gold ashtray. He blew out the last mouthful of smoke and leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I should lock you up for acting like a complete idiot,” Dodson said.

Remko kept his eyes low and braced for impact.

“I’m not going to say the scum didn’t deserve it, but your actions were completely unacceptable. For you, of all people, to lose your head like that . . . It isn’t like you, Remko.”

Remko considered apologizing but decided just to keep his mouth shut.

“What were you even doing at the prison to begin with? You weren’t on duty.”

Remko raised his eyes but Dodson held up his hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. The only reason I’m not making you spend the next twenty-four hours in a cell is because you had to watch a brother die and because you’ve never had any disciplinary issues before. But you’d better not make this a habit or I’ll beat you myself.”

“He said he was fo . . . fo . . . following orders,” Remko said.

“What?”

“The man . . . said his or . . . or . . . orders came fr . . . from the Authority.”

Dodson’s facial expression didn’t change. Remko’s anger spiked and his right hand started to curl into a fist. “Sir?”

“He was a lunatic and murdered one of our own; that’s all.”

“So he didn’t have or . . . or . . . orders?”

“No. We don’t send criminals to kill our own.”

Remko knew he should let it go, but something about the look in the criminal’s eye, the smirk on his face when he had said the words, prodded him. What would he gain from lying about orders? Remko’s instincts told him something was off.

“How did he get in?” Remko asked.

“We’re working on that.”

“Where’d he g . . . get the weapon?”

“Remko . . .”

“How’d he kn . . . kn . . . know where Helms w . . . w . . .”

“Enough.”

“What ab . . . about the second man?”

“I said enough!”

Remko’s whole body was heated. Sweat populated his forehead and he drilled Dodson with frustration. He knew something wasn’t right; there were too many questions.

Dodson narrowed his eyes to slits and balled the fists that rested over his chest. “I know what you went through is hard, but you remember your place.”

Remko moved his eyes from Dodson’s face and focused on cooling off. His gut said something was wrong here, but he couldn’t challenge an Authority member like this without serious consequences. He needed to use better judgment.

“Maybe you need some time in a cell to cool off after all?” Dodson asked rather than said.

Remko took a deep breath. “No, sir.”

Remko could feel Dodson watch him a moment longer and then the commander moved around his desk and sat in the huge wooden chair behind it. It was more a throne than a chair, and Dodson was probably the only person who wouldn’t look ridiculous sitting in it.

“I need to talk to you about something else,” Dodson said. “I know the timing isn’t ideal.”

Remko looked up to acknowledge that he was listening.

“It’s come to my attention that you escorted a Lint into the solitary unit earlier this evening. Guard on duty seems to think she was a last-minute addition, but you and I both know that’s not true.”

Remko had completely forgotten about the events of earlier. Carrington, the kiss, the reason he’d come to see Helms in the first place
 
—all of it had slipped his mind entirely.

“I need to know what’s going on,” Dodson said.

Remko didn’t know what to say. He’d known there was a chance he would be found out, but he had hoped there would be more time to come up with a believable story. He scoured his imagination for anything Dodson might buy but came up empty.

“Remko, I like you. You’re an excellent guard, a smart kid, and a great fighter. I have plans for you within the CityWatch. But I’ve seen smaller things than a woman ruin a man’s potential. Losing Helms was unfortunate; however,
he put himself in that situation because he forgot his place. Do you understand?”

Remko thought he understood, but his head was still too clouded with pain and sorrow to be completely certain. He guessed it meant that he was supposed to return to the life he’d known only hours earlier, before his unwavering trust in the government had been shaken. He assumed it meant he was supposed to ignore the feelings evolving for the girl who was promised to one of the government’s leaders. He supposed it meant it would be in his best interest to ignore the creeping suspicion that was building in his gut. What he didn’t understand was how he was supposed to do any of that.

He nodded to give Dodson some assurance and Dodson returned the gesture.

“Good. Now I am going to chalk up all the events of tonight to something in the water. Know that we will find the second man involved in Helms’s death and both will be brought before the Authority for justice. And from this moment on, you don’t take one step outside the line because next time there won’t be any leniency.”

Carrington somehow survived another sleepless night. Between seeing Larkin’s horrified face and feeling Remko’s kiss, she could hardly lie still in bed, much less get any rest.

Work dragged for the second day in a row. It proved impossible for Carrington to stay focused.

There was a constant circuit running in her head, a loop that never found an end. Memories of Larkin and terror bled into images of Remko and bliss, which brought up Isaac and misery. She was bombarded by the absurd notion that she’d finally received everything she had dreamed of, only to wish she had dreamed of something else. More absurd were the pictures her mind was creating of future moments with Remko
 
—holding hands while walking in the sunlight, sitting close as the sky grew dark, kissing in secret, falling in love.

Then the guilt bloomed into the horrifying realization that she was thinking about another man when she was already promised to someone. What would the world think if they could get a glimpse inside her head? Here she was, a nothing girl who came from a nobody family now preparing to marry into the Authority circle, and she was daydreaming of a forbidden CityWatch guard. The utter foolishness of it all was shameful, and to treat a man like Isaac with so little respect was selfish.

Then images of the bone-numbing fear in Larkin’s face
 
—her desperate words begging Carrington not to marry that man, claiming he was a monster
 
—brought her mental journey full circle. She lost count of how many times another Lint had to snap at her to come out of her daze. Her mind was clouding her focus and she was struggling with the simplest of tasks. It wasn’t the ability to do the work so much as the concentration needed that she seemed to have lost.

When the Lint Leaders finally called it a day, Carrington decided she needed to see Larkin again. She needed to be
sure her friend wasn’t dying, and she needed to ask her what she had meant when she called Isaac a monster.

She considered trying to sneak in the back way, but the thought of getting caught and thrown in a box of her own snuffed out that idea quickly.

She was going to need Remko’s help again.

By the time she actually worked up the courage to seek him out, the sun had been absent from the sky for hours. Many girls were headed to their lofts to tuck themselves in for the night, and Carrington received questioning glances as she headed in the opposite direction.

Curfew would be within the hour, so Carrington knew she was cutting it close. When she saw Remko standing guard outside her building, she stopped. Her heart slammed into her chest. Heat flushed her face and crept down her spine. She couldn’t get her legs to move forward or get her brain to piece together an appropriate greeting. She just stared at the only man she’d ever known who made her nauseous and thrilled all in the same moment.

He must have felt her stare, because he glanced over his shoulder. When his eyes met hers she forgot the rest of the world. She forgot the worry, the fear, the guilt, the mental replay that had plagued her all day. She felt his touch like burning fingerprints still singeing places on her skin, his mouth warm and soft against her lips, his eyes filled with gentle affection.

She saw a sense of longing flash across his face
 
—and then, as if flicked like a switch, his eyes changed. His body
stiffened; his face cooled. He walked toward her and the comforting heat she felt faded. Something was wrong.

Carrington considered turning and running back to her room, but she still couldn’t get her feet to move. As he approached her he took a slight sidestep and moved out of sight, along the side of the building. She found her legs then and followed. He didn’t stop until he was at the back corner of the structure. Carrington approached carefully.

She thought she saw a slight quiver rumble across his hand and her concern grew. They stood in silence, Remko drilling a hole into the dirt with his eyes, Carrington unable to drag her eyes away from his face. Something was deeply troubling him, and her body ached to show him comfort
 
—to wrap him in her arms
 
—but she kept them fastened to her sides. He wasn’t speaking, which was common, but he wasn’t looking at her either, so she couldn’t search his eyes for answers.

“What is it?” Carrington asked.

He said nothing and kept his eyes to the ground. Her panic built with each pulse, with each moment his silence continued.

“Is it Larkin?” Her words were so soft she worried he hadn’t heard her.

But he shook his head once and the clenching pain in her chest released. His face, however, still remained strained with sorrow. She took a step forward and reached her hand out. “Remko, what is it?”

He stepped back, away from her, and she dropped her
hand. His reaction stung. The rejection was hard to ignore and Carrington failed to keep it off her face. Regret glimmered in his eyes for a moment before he balled his fists and turned away.

“We can’t do th . . . th . . . this,” Remko said.

Carrington heard his words and understood what he meant, but her heart refused to believe it. It pounded for her to do something, to make him take it back; instead she put another couple of inches between them.

“Helms and Lar . . . Larkin were pun . . . pun . . .”

“I understand, Remko,” Carrington said.

His eyes came up to meet hers and she could see that his resolve was shaky, but it was there. She shouldn’t have been surprised. What did she think was going to happen? Did she really think he was going to ride in on a white steed and carry her off into a world where they could be together
 
—a world that didn’t exist?

Remko moved his glance so that it was forward but not on Carrington. He clenched his hands behind his back and his shadow loomed tall against the wall of the building. “Larkin will be re . . . released to . . . to . . . tomorrow.”

Carrington felt relief wash over her. She nodded, trying to hold her composure. “And Helms?”

Remko’s jaw strained and his eyes flickered pain before he stepped past her. She heard his boots grind the dirt with the steps he took before silence fell over them again. She didn’t turn around but waited for the sound of his steps to begin again.

“Helms is dead,” Remko said.

Shock like an arctic wind petrified the blood under Carrington’s skin. The cold spread throughout her body and threatened the function of her lungs. By the time she turned to see Remko he had already disappeared around the front of the building and she was alone again.

Alone was the only way she had ever really been; the rest had just been a cruel illusion, and like a fool, she had believed the illusion could be reality.