The Elect: Malevolent, a Dystopian Novel (13 page)

I feel my hand going to my shorter hair. Am I really twirling a lock?
Stop it.
I yank my hand down. “Mattie was bored.”

My gaze returns to Jay’s. His is full of wonder. Or maybe it’s something else. Something negative. I can’t be sure.

I say, “If you don’t say something in the next second, I’m going to run back to the dorm in shame and wash my face.”

Jay rests his hand on my shoulder. “No, don’t leave.” He smiles.

That’s better. At least he’s not staring at me as if I’d sprouted a second head.

He says, “I was just…a little overwhelmed.”

“In a bad way?”

“No matter how I answer that question, I’ll be a loser. So I refuse to respond.” He takes my hand in his and tugs. “Let’s go for a walk. I mean…will you go for a walk with me?”

Really? Is he asking me to go for a walk with him?
Asking
, not telling? In a voice that’s a little shaky and shy? It’s still me. The girl who couldn’t shoot a gun. The girl who can’t throw a punch.

Although he lets go, my hand tingles as we walk. My face warms. And I feel like my feet are hovering a few inches above the ground. I’m alive. More alive than I’ve ever been. My blood is pounding through my body. My senses are hyper-alert. I feel as if every second I spend with him is precious. And I can’t stand the thought of him walking away, even though my mind is screaming that he should. Now. Immediately. It’s bad enough that Alice and Mattie and Fran know about us. What if George caught us?

We follow the sidewalk as it curves around the front of the building. I see no sign of the other trainees, who were out here somewhere. But I hear the distant echo of voices. Shouting, cheering. We aren’t going that way, however. We turn in the opposite direction, toward the road. It’s empty. No carts. No bicycles. No pedestrians. No vehicles of any kind. We follow the cracked pavement as it reaches toward the sun, hanging low over the western horizon, hiding among the towering trees that mark the perimeter of the compound.

The farther we go, the safer I feel. We remain silent. Comfortably silent. My gaze meanders over my surroundings. The buildings in the compound are all massive compared to the houses in my town. They are old, built in the pre-war style that I’ve only seen in photographs before leaving Riverview. I know, from those books, and our first day of training, that their skeletons are massive, steel, unlike the hand-hewn wood frames with which we built our houses and barns. Their outside walls are all glass windows, floor-to-ceiling. As I look up at one towering structure, I wonder what it would be like to see our world from up there, on the top floor. How far would I be able to see? To the wall? Beyond it?

I wish I could bring my parents here. I know my sister would be awed by these buildings. Mother too. Father would say they’re just buildings. Useless ones, at that. Glass doesn’t hold in heat. It lets it escape. It lets the cold in.

Me, I feel small as I stand here, my eyes climbing high, higher. The building’s top floor nearly reaches the clouds. “This place is amazing,” I say. “I wonder what it was like to live and work up there.”

“I’ll show you.” We turn and face grass and brush as tall as me. “This way.”

Thankfully, Jay holds my hand tightly now. I need his strength and stability as I tromp through the thick vegetation. Beneath my feet the ground is uneven and treacherous. It buckles up into peaks and dives down into steep ravines. It takes us a long time to make it to the far end of the building. I breathe a huge sigh of relief when I make it without twisting an ankle or landing on my ass.

He turns the corner. “There’s an unlocked door back here.”

I’m facing still more weeds and grass, though the ground feels more level here. We stop at a rusted door. The tired hinges screech as Jay pulls the door open. I step inside. The air smells stale. The door slams shut, closing us in darkness.

“Hold onto me. I know the way.” Jay’s voice echoes.

I blink, willing my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, as I follow him, shapes take form. I see long metal tables. More metal structures lining the walls. “What is this place?”

“A kitchen.”

“It looks nothing like any kitchen I’ve seen before.” Even though I’m semi-whispering, my voice echoes in the dark silence.

“It was a restaurant kitchen. Before the Great Decimation, commercial kitchens were very large.” He leads me through a set of swinging doors, into a wide, open space. “The restaurant’s dining room,” he tells me. This room isn’t as dark, thanks to the sunlight splashing from the wide windows. We weave between empty tables and toppled chairs until we reach the far end. There he pulls open a door and out we go, into a very dark but very large space. A lobby, perhaps. “The stairs are this way.” He takes me to a heavy metal door, located in a narrower hallway. It’s extremely dark in here. I can see nothing. As I grope with my free hand, Jay leads me with the other. My skin smacks into something hard and I yelp.

“Watch…sorry, too late. I was going to warn you about the step.” He places our hands on a smooth surface. Petrified I’ll lose him in this utter blackness, I grip his hand tighter than ever. My eyes are wide open and yet I see nothing. In this space Jay’s voice echoes sharply. So does the sound of our breathing. I move carefully, placing one foot on a step, then another. Soon I am weary of the climbing and darkness. I want light. I want out of this oppressing tomb.

At last a door opens. A narrow blade of weak light cuts through the black velvet suffocating me. My eyes are so sensitive that it almost hurts. I follow Jay into a hallway. The floor beneath my feet is soft, cushioned by a rug. The light is still too dim to make out details, but I see doors lining both sides of the hall. He opens one and I squint. The space inside is flooded with light. It bounces off the white walls, burning my eyes. Semi-blind, I follow him inside.

“This way.” Still holding my hand, he leads me to one of the windows.

My eyes water, but I don’t dare close them. The view outside is beyond my wildest fantasies. It’s as if I’m soaring high above the ground, flying with the birds. I move closer, resting my hands on the cool, smooth glass separating me from the world outside. The barrier seems so thin and fragile. And yet I don’t want to back up.

“It’s wonderful.” My gaze sweeps across the landscape. I see tiny people walking around the training building. And trees that had seemed so massive down there look like tiny broccoli sprouts. The roads appear to be diminutive paths. People like scurrying ants. I can see the concrete wall in the far distance but nothing beyond it. “I think I would never want to leave if I lived up here.”

“Maybe someday you will live up here. There’s talk of rehabilitating this building so people can live in it again.”

“That would be wonderful.” I turn around, discovering Jay is standing very close, near enough that his heat warms my face. The tip of his tongue sweeps across his lower lip. I watch it until it slips from view. My nerves tingle as I remember the last time we were alone and that magical kiss.

He is going to kiss me again. The air is thin and electricity is zapping between us, just like then. My heart gallops like a racing pony.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers.

Excitement buzzes through me. “I know.”

“No, I mean, you shouldn’t be here, training for this agency.” He cups my face, fingers tangling in my hair. “It’s too dangerous.”

I hold my breath. The world is spinning, whirling, whipping. Or is it me? It’s hard to breathe, to think, to do anything at all but relish his soft touches. “I have to.”

His thumb grazes my lip. “This shithole isn’t for people like you. You’re too…”

“Too what?” I ask, shuddering.

“Too perfect. Too good.”

My heart jumps. Good. Jay thinks I’m good? He has to be the first ever to think that. “I’m not perfect.”

“Yes, yes you are. Everything about you is perfect. Your skin. Your eyes. Your hair. Your smile. Your heart. This place destroys everything that’s good about a person. That’s what they do.”

My first reaction is absolute joy. Jay likes me. The way I am. Simple, unsure, poor-fighting me. But that happiness is quickly overtaken by confusion. Why is he saying all these things about me not fitting here? Is he going to kick me out? Does he think that would be best? “I have to do this, Jay. I. Have. To.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

My gaze locks on his. “Tell me.”

We are so close we’re breathing the same air. I can see every fleck of color in his eyes.

He shakes his head. “I can’t, Eva.”

“You can. I won’t tell anyone what you say.”

“No.” Sighing, he angles his head, resting his forehead against mine. I inhale deeply, inhaling the air he has just exhaled. I can smell him. His skin. His sweet breath. The delicious scent of soap, clinging to his hair.

I reach up and tangle my fingers in his curls. They are so smooth and silky. They wind around my fingers, as if they wish to hold onto me. There’s no way I could let them go.

“What can I say to convince you to leave?” he whispers. “I’ll help you escape.”

“Nothing.” That’s no lie. I don’t want to leave. Not just because of the money.

Because of him.

“What if I said you’ll fail phase two anyway?” the angle of his head shifts just slightly, bringing his mouth closer to mine. And suddenly I don’t care about what he’s saying. He’s going to kiss me, and that’s all that matters.

“How can you know if I’ll fail?” I hear myself say.

“What if I told you I’ll make sure you fail?”

A chill races through me.

That did it. The spell is broken. I do care now, about more than feeling the heat of his mouth on mine. I yank my hand away. “What did you say?”

“I have to, Eva.”

“What did you say?” My fingers curl into fists. White hot anger swirls through my center. “Did you just tell me you’re going to fail me? You’re not even going to let me try to pass?”

“It’s the right thing to do.” He crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes at me. How dare he look at me like that, as if I was the one who charmed him up here, just to tell him I was going to wreck his life!

“Bastard!” Fury grips me like a vice. I swing my arm at his irritating, beautiful face, but he catches my wrist.

“Listen to me,” he says.

“I can’t listen to you.” I whirl around, yanking on my arm, trying to break free. But he refuses to release me, the asshole. The smooth-talking bastard! Was that what this was all about? Today, yesterday. The kisses? The touches? Was he just buttering me up so he could break the news to me easy? “Let me go!”

“Stop. Listen.”

“Fuck you.” I slam my free hand into his chest. It’s like cement.

“If you just give me a chance to explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain.” I pull. I twist my arm. I smack at his chest and jerk up a knee, barely missing my target.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he says.

Protect me? What gives him the right? What makes him even dare to imagine what’s best for me? “Don’t worry about me. You have no idea--”

“But I—“

“I said, don’t. Are you trying to protect the other girls too? Have you brought them up here to smooth talk? Or am I the only unlucky one? How many others have you—“

He cuts off my words. His mouth crushes mine. His lips aren’t soft. They don’t caress like they did the last time. They claim.

They take.

They conquer.

And I…

I surrender.

I’m lost.

Lost in pleasure.

His kiss makes me forget everything.

What we were talking about.

Why I was angry.

What I am doing here.

All I feel is wanting. Deep, throbbing wanting. I want to crush my body against Jay’s. I want to become a part of him. I want him to become a part of me.

I loop my arms around his neck. His tongue glides along the seam of my mouth. He wants to deepen the kiss. Sam never kissed me like that. A wicked thrill buzzes through me.

My lips part and his tongue slips inside. He tastes wonderful. Sweet, like honey. His tongue caresses mine. His hands hold me at the waist, keeping me in place. I surrender to him. I am his.

I want more. I want everything. I want his smooth skin brushing over mine. I want his touch. I want to feel his weight on top of me.

I whimper. I moan. I kiss him back and hope that he will never stop.

But he stops.

My heart is thumping against my breastbone so hard it feels bruised. I open my eyes. My vision is a little blurry and I feel lightheaded.

“I…” I say. But I don’t finish the sentence. I’m not really sure what to say.

He cups my cheek. “You see? I care about you. A lot more than I should. That’s why I have to protect you.”

I remember then what we’d been talking about. He was going to find a way to get me thrown out of the training program. I can’t let that happen. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around all of this, but you can’t do this to me. You can’t get me thrown out. It means everything to me. Everything.”

“Is it worth sacrificing your life?” he demands. His fingers dig into my flesh. I like the pressure. It’s sends a thrill through me.

I nod. “If that’s necessary, yes.”

His expression grows dark, full of regret. I realize now that he’s struggling with this too. “You aren’t cut out for this, Eva. You’ll die. The first time you’re out there.” He points toward the wall.

“What’s ‘out there’ that’s so dangerous, Jay? Why can’t I handle it?”

He wraps his hands around my upper arms. His long, tapered fingers press into my flesh there now. “Because you’re too small. Too delicate. And too gentle.”

Small? Delicate? Gentle? How ironic.

As I’d grown up I had longed to hear those words. Back home I wasn’t delicate Eva. I wasn’t small Eva. No, that was Kimberly. And Sylvia. They were the sweet ones. The dainty girly-girls all the boys wanted to protect. Not me. Even though I’m no giant, I was Strong Eva. I was Surly Eva. I was the Eva who tossed hay bales like the boys. I was the Eva who climbed trees faster than everyone. I was the Eva who chopped wood and carried water and built fences.

Now at last someone sees me as small, delicate, feminine.

And I don’t like it. It’s the worst thing I could hear.

“I’m stronger than you think,” I inform him. “I’m used to doing work. Hard work.”

“Yes, but—“

“I’ve already proven I can run faster than anyone, even you—“

“Sure, but you can’t outrun a bullet, Eva,” he says, staring deep into my eyes. “No one can.”

The worry is plain to see on his face, in his eyes. I couldn’t miss it if I was blind. And there’s a small part of me that’s flattered and grateful for his concern. But a bigger part of me is worried he’ll go through with his threat and have me thrown out. And then what will happen to my family?

My parents were on the verge of losing what little they had left. Being a part of this, and the big paychecks that come with it, was their best hope for saving the farm and for giving them a little peace, a little break from the daily struggle. I can’t just stand here and let Jay snatch it out of my grasp.

I jerk away, wrenching my arms out of his grip. I stomp toward the door, letting my body language tell Jay what I think about his plan to protect me. “Then I just need to stay out of the way of the bullets, don’t I?”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“Why not?” I demand. “And why is it okay for Mattie and Alice and Helen to take those risks but not me?”

“Please, please.” He cradles my hands in his and stares into my eyes. “Listen. You won’t be a hero if you’re dead. You won’t help anyone.”

“But my family needs this. If the worst happens, if I die, at least they’ll get a settlement from the agency, right?”

He lowers his head. “Is that all you think you’re worth? A check with a few zeros on it?”

“That check means the difference between my family living in comfort or eventually losing their sole source of income, our farm. I’ll do the best I can to stay alive because every day that I’m alive I earn more money for them.” A heavy, stormy silence falls over us. Jay glares at me. I glare at him in defiance. I jerk up my chin and pull my hands away from his, folding my arms across my chest. “If I’m willing to accept the risk of this job, and I can prove that I would do it as well, or better, than the other recruits, then you have no right to steal this opportunity from me.”

He shoves his fingers through his hair and shakes his head. I’m frustrating him. Isn’t that too bad? He’s this close to ruining my life. He needs to understand that. “Okay. I see I’m not going to convince you to leave. And you’ll hate me if I do anything to stop you…”

“Yes, I will.”

His lips curl up at the corners. His eyes twinkle. I’ve gotten my point across, without making him hate me. “Message received. Loud and clear.”

“Good.”

He weaves his fingers between mine again and leads me toward the exit. “We’d better get back before dinner. You’re going to need plenty of nourishment if you’re going to have any hope of making it through the rest of phase two.”

“It’s that hard?” I follow his lead.

“It isn’t a walk in the park.”

“Will you help me?”

“Of course. Just like the other recruits.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and my heart begins galloping again. Jay is so different from Sam. He talks openly about things. He knows how to show me he cares. And we haven’t even known each other that long. I love the way he looks at me, as if I’m the most amazing, beautiful creature he’s ever seen in his life. He makes me feel special. Treasured. Important. And his determination to protect me makes me feel even more special. In all the years I spent with Sam, and as close as we had been, never once had he shown the depth of concern for me that Jay has.

And the touching, the holding, the kissing…I know it’s risky. For both of us. But I can’t stop. I. Just. Can’t.

As I’d grown up, I knew Mother and Father loved me and needed me. They weren’t the kind who cuddled or fussed over their children. But I could see the depth of their affection in their eyes.

This is new, this touching, this need to be touched. It’s thrilling and unnerving, both. I wonder if I’ll ever stop feeling utterly overjoyed when I look at Jay’s face.

I doubt it.

* * * * *

So far this part of phase two is easier than anything we’ve done so far. That can’t be good.

Since breakfast, we’ve been sitting in a hallway. On the floor. There’s been no running until someone pukes. No punching or kicking until we’re unconscious. There have been no split lips or broken noses or concussions. There’s been no blood at all. Or even gunshots.

I’m bored.

So are the other trainees.

Keith is sitting (correction, slumping) across from me, snoring softly. Every now and then his head flops to the right, plopping on Mattie’s shoulder.

Not wishing to be a pillow, Mattie shoves his head off then sighs long and loud. “What are they doing, trying to bore us into quitting?”

“Maybe it’s a test, to see how we handle waiting?” I suggest, remembering what Claire had told us the first day--that everything would be a test.

“Wake up, dammit.” Mattie shakes Keith’s shoulders. “Or maybe it isn’t a test at all; maybe someone screwed up but they don’t want to dismiss us early?”

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

“Maybe they just want to make us miserable. That wouldn’t surprise me,” I reason. “After all, they’re trying to prepare us for some terrible job that requires us to constantly face some kind of unspoken danger. Perhaps they want to see how hard it will be to break us.”

Keith snorts. His eyes are still closed. Clearly, he knows how to deal with tedium.

Me, I’m dying but I can handle it. I wish I had a book to read. That would make it easier to stomach the monotony.

Finally, George steps into the hall. He’s holding a clipboard. “Damien.”

Damien stands, gives the rest of us a bewildered look and follows George. The door at the end of the hallway closes with a dull, reverberating thud.

Mattie is holding her knees, her feet shuffling on the dingy tile floor. “So, who do you think will rank first after phase two?”

No one answers at first. Then Henry pipes up. “Me, of course. I’m not going to let any of you losers take my spot.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” Mattie grumbles.

Henry laughs. It’s a hollow laugh. The kind intended to let everyone know he isn’t amused. “Who’s going to knock me down? Eva?”

Cold fury slices through me. I know Henry was the one who attacked Paul and Tom. But evidently there’s no proof, since he hasn’t been arrested. And now he has the gall to throw it in our faces that he’s taken the top spot?

“I bet Eva will knock you off your little mountain,” Helen boasts, pointing at me.

I’m not happy she did that. I’m no threat to him. And I’d like him to continue to believe that.

He slides me a nasty glare. “If she does, it won’t be because she’s better than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mattie squints mean eyes at him.

He smirks. “Let’s just say…she’ll have an unfair advantage. I saw her with Jay last night. They weren’t target shooting.”

Everyone looks at me.

I wish the floor would swallow me up. Sure, I’d known all along this might happen--that all the other trainees would find out about Jay and my…friendship. But I still wasn’t ready to deal with it. I’d hoped it would stay a secret for longer, like, until we were through with training.

Jay comes out of the room at the end of the hall. His gaze jumps to me for a fraction of a moment. Then he calls, “Helen.”

Nobody speaks until after he takes away his next victim, Keith.

“Uh huh. Did you see how he keeps looking at Eva first?” Alice says.

Fran’s eyes widen. She gives me an is-it-true look.

I know I’ll be in trouble if I admit anything to anyone beyond the people who already know. So I say nothing. Knowing Alice, she would take my denial as license to tell everyone what she knows.

Fran scoots next to me, wedging herself between Mattie and my left shoulder. “What’s going on, Eva?”

“Nothing,” I tell her. My face is flaming. If she knows how to read body language I’m screwed.

“Is Alice lying?” she prods.

I stutter, “Y-yes...”

Fran’s expression goes ice cold.

Dammit, I’m such a bad liar.

Mattie interjects, “Henry‘s just trying to stir up trouble. Jay can’t show favoritism to any of us. Not for any reason.”

Fran narrows her eyes at me then at Mattie. “It’s true!” she whisper-shouts. She leans closer. “Have you…seen him naked yet? Because if you have, I want to hear every juicy detail.”

As if my face wasn’t hot enough. Now it’s blazing. “No! And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“You’re no fun.” Fran fake pouts. Then she looks at Mattie. “How can you be sure he’ll be fair? He’s one of our trainers. He decides who stays and who goes. Who’s on top and who’s on the bottom.”

“And George. And who knows who else,” I point out. “There are probably others. Claire, for one.”

Fran seems to accept my rationalization. She grins. “I can’t believe this. We have a budding romance blossoming. Here, at training camp. I never would have guessed.”

Still, despite the fact that she doesn’t seem to be holding it against me, I feel I need to make it clear nothing is going on…yet. “It’s
not
a romance,” I enunciate.

Her brow slants. “No?”

“No. We’re just…friends. We’ve talked. A little. Hardly at all.”

Fran is not convinced.

But I am saved, temporarily. Only because Jay calls my name.

It’s my turn.

Whatever that means.