“Oh, sweetie, don’t fret,” Ophelia coos. “I’m sure they wouldn’t hurt your little brother. He’s just a baby.”
“You’d be surprised what some people will do to their babies,” Gideon says in a flatline. He chews off a piece of cornbread. “You know what they call the Complex, where they keep the Incentives stashed?”
“Purgatorium.” Cypress stabs at her eggs with a fork, her eyes glassy.
“That’s right.” Gideon’s lips curve into a vacant smile. “Pretty intense sounding, huh?”
I fight the sudden urge to lunge across the table.
Digory glares at him. “Shut it, Warrick.”
When Gideon looks up from his own plate, he seems genuinely surprised. His eyes flit between Digory and me. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-no. They wouldn’t hurt him … ”
“Uh … this is the Establishment we’re talking about, right?” Cypress asks. She takes a last swig of juice and looks around to make sure none of the other Imps sitting nearby are listening. “The Recruitment … killing our loved ones … ring any bells?”
“Thanks for making my point.” Digory sighs.
Confusion elbows the sarcasm out of her expression.
Digory grips my hands. “Goslin’s right. It’s because of the Establishment’s cruelty that you can guarantee they’re making sure all of our families are being well-nourished and taken care of. They’d never risk anything happening to them and spoiling their sadistic psychological torture.” He leans in closer, drowning me in his eyes. “Cole’s fine right now, Lucian. If you trust anything, trust that.”
I squeeze his hands back. “Thanks,” I whisper.
Ophelia rests a hand on my shoulder. “During the Re-cruitment. That woman up there with you and your brother, Spark … that wasn’t your mama, was it?”
I shake my head. “Mrs. Bledsoe. She’s like a mother to me. To me and my brother. She’s looked after us ever since … ”
I swallow. “For a while now … ”
Ophelia smiles. “Mamas are so important.” Her eyes pool. “Heck, mine’s sacrificed everything for me.” The pools dry up. Her eyes are somewhere else again, just like during Slade’s “welcome.” “Mama’s made me who I am today.”
And just who are you? I wonder.
She laughs, almost as if she’s read my mind.“Me and my sister, both.”
“The two of them, your mother and your sister … they’re your people, I take it?” I ask.
“They sure are! I’d do anything for them!” She giggles. “So you see, Spark. We have a lot in common. I have my mama and sister. And you have your brother and that darling that’s like a mama to you.” She gives me a hug and leans into my ear. “I’m sure you’d just be totally crushed if something happened to that sweet little brother of yours.”
A chill slithers down my spine. I break free of her embrace and stare her down. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
She beams. “One can only hope.”
Then she turns to Gideon. “As long as we’re talking about family, who are you making a stand for?”
Gideon mumbles something unintelligible.
“What did you say, Giddy?” she squeaks.
He swallows the last of his cornbread. “My parents.”
“Parents?” Cypress grumbles. “I would have thought you sprang from a test tube or something.”
I’m expecting Gideon to fire back, both barrels blazing. But he doesn’t. Instead he just looks at her. “Nah. I’m one of the ones lucky enough to have both a mother and a father.”
“You must be so excited!” Ophelia squeals. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say to them when you see them again?”
He smiles. “I’ve thought of nothing else ever since I heard my name get called in Town Square.” He shrugs. “Guess I won’t know exactly what I’m going to say until the time comes.”
For the first time, I realize that there’s so much about them I don’t really know.
Including Digory.
I opt for the easier target. “What about you, Goslin?”
Cypress looks up from picking at her teeth. “Me? What about me?”
I roll my eyes. “Who are your Incent-family? Who are you fighting for?”
She bolts upright. “None of your business!” She grabs her duffel bag. “You guys are really annoying with all your prying. Besides, tactically, it makes no sense to give away all your weaknesses.” She shoves her empty chair against the table. “Morons.”
I shake my head. “Maybe we’re just trying to get to know each other bet-”
“Get to know each other better for what?” she snaps. “So we can say, I really like that girl or that guy, even though they forced me to pull the plug on my mother? Sheesh!”
Ophelia’s eyes supernova. “So one of them’s your mama, too!”
“No. Neither one is my mama.” Cypress walks a few steps away, then turns. “If it makes all of you feel any better, I’ve never even laid eyes on the ones I’m fighting for.”
All too soon, Slade appears at our table licking her lips. “Hope you enjoyed your breakfast. Now’s when the fun begins.”
With the exception of an hour lunch break, the rest of the day consists of nonstop training exercises, including Drill and Ceremony training, where we’re issued fake weapons so we can get familiar with their feel and added weight while being instructed on the proper procedures for marching, standing at attention, facing right or left, and standing at ease.
After all that, Slade lectures us, and I have to bite my tongue as she drones on and on about the Establishment’s values and code of conduct. Then it’s on to Basic Weapons Marksmanship, including disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling our weapons, with Slade sneering and shouting at us the entire time.
“Not that way, Spark! It looks like you’re handling a mop!” she barks.
By the time dinner rolls around, everyone’s looking pretty somber, including Digory.
“Hope you enjoyed your first day of training,” Slade announces back at the barracks. “Tomorrow I won’t be so easy on you.”
We’re all too exhausted to take advantage of the one free hour of personal time we have until lights out, so we crash early. Gideon’s tossing and turning again, and Cypress and Ophelia are already snoring lightly. I strip to my underwear and plop onto my cot.
I glance at Digory. The perfectly symmetrical contours of his body ripple as he takes off his uniform, folds it neatly, and stuffs his gear into his locker.
He never did say who he was fighting for. He knows all about me and Cole, but he’s never spoken about his people. And part of me’s been afraid to ask. Though I’m not quite sure why …
He slips into bed. “G’night, Lucian.”
“Digory,” I whisper. “About the Culling. Who are your — ?”
“Get some sleep. We have another busy day tomorrow.” Then he rolls over, and I’m staring at his broad muscled back in the shard of moonlight that cuts through the small window of the barracks.
Is he really that tired or is it part of some strategy, like Cypress suggested?
After all that talk about trust, Digory obviously doesn’t trust me.
There’s too much at stake to let my guard down. Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe are the only people I can afford to think about.
I can’t afford to trust anything anyone says anymore.
The last thought I have before my aching body drifts into unconsciousness is that I’m not sure how I’m going to make it through the rest of basic training, let alone the Trials.
Fourteen
I never get the chance to press Digory on his Incentives. The next three weeks are even more grueling, with Slade piling more and more on us each day. The morning calisthenics become more intense, and there’s added instruction on Ground Fighting Techniques, Map Reading, Land Navigation, Compass Use, First Aid Training, and Dressing Wounds.
During Basic Combat Training, we’re deposited by a Squawker onto a circular training platform, about twenty-five feet in diameter, that hovers high above the steel dome of Infiernos. We’ve been placed under the tutelage of Styles and Renquist, the two burly Imps who roughed me up in my cell at the Citadel.