Recruit Warrick. You have sixty seconds to make your selection.
At Slade’s announcement, the digital countdown display above the podium begins hacking away at the seconds.
Mr. Warrick just sits there, his wide eyes glazed.
In contrast, Mrs. Warrick, despite her frail appearance, struggles with her bonds. “Gideon, honey. Please! I’m your mother ! You have to get me out of here!” Her face contorts into a mask of terror.
Gideon’s face frightens me more than anything else I’ve seen. Tears are flowing like rivers down his cheeks. But his eyes gleam with a twisted fire.
And he’s smiling.
“How does it feel, huh?” His voice is a bitter frost. “Are you scared, Mommy? Does it feel like you’re all alone and you’re never going to live to see the sunrise? The light?”
Mrs. Warrick’s scream pierces through me.
“Gideon, please,” Mr. Warrick begs, his voice drained of any strength it might have once had. “Don’t do this to your moth-”
“Shut up!” Gideon spits. “You’re always covering for her! How could you not know what she was doing to me all those years? You saw the marks, heard the screams. You did nothing. Nothing! You’re a coward, always have been.”
“I was always a good mother to you, Gideon!” Mrs. Warrick wails. “Anything I did was for your own good!”
Gideon pounds the glass. “What kind of a mother beats her child and locks him in the dark for days on end just for crying because he was hungry?”
Anger flashes on her face. “You’re weak. Always have been. And ungrateful. I was trying to toughen you up. It’s a harsh world-”
“Harsh world?” He flings the words back at her. “It’s not supposed to be a harsh world at home, with the people that are supposed to love you.” He rips his shirt up and turns, exposing his back to her. “I can’t forget. I’ll never forget.” He slumps against the enclosure, sobbing. “I hope you’re terrified, like I was.”
Make your selection.
Gideon raises his head to the sky. “I choose her, Sgt. Slade. My mother.”
The blade springs forward and arcs into Mrs. Warrick’s throat, slicing clean through to the other side with a loud thwack. For a second she just sits there, her eyes looking confused. Then a red line fades in around her neck and her head topples off, rolling down her body and across the ground until it stops, pressed against the glass at Gideon’s feet.
Mr. Warrick’s horrified eyes take in the sight of his wife’s body, still sitting in the chair, gouts of blood pumping from the severed neck. A deep moan stretches out from his throat and turns into garbled sobs.
“I just wanted to scare her, that’s all,” Gideon says with an eerie calm. He slides down the panel and traces the glass as if he’s trying to caress his mother’s face. “How does it feel, Mom? Huh? How does it feel ? Tell me. How does it feel ? How does it-?”
He repeats the mantra over and over again, rocking back and forth.
This Trial is now complete. Recruits will now proceed to the next station where you will have a rest period before receiving instructions and proceeding to your next Trial.
Slade’s voice fades into nothingness.
None of us move. If the others are feeling anything like I am, they’re too stunned to even speak.
A swarm of drones buzzes overhead and hovers over us, their glistening pincers providing the motivation we’re lacking. Slowly, we slog single file toward our next horror.
All except one of us.
I look back.
Gideon’s still rocking and chanting, even after the chamber’s lights have dimmed and faded to black.
twenty-six
Everything’s dark. For a terrified second, I feel like I’m back in the Fleshers’ Lair …
“Lucian. Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
Digory’s voice buffers the throbbing in my head. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Each pound reminds me of that sharp blade lopping off Mrs. Warrick’s head, over and over again, until it’s not just her head, but Ophelia’s, Cypress’s, Gideon’s.
Digory’s …
“What?” My eyes snap open, burning despite the chill rattling my bones. I try and sit up and I’m overcome with lightheadedness. A firm hand on my back steadies me until I’m able to sit upright on my own.
“It’s about time you woke up, sleepyhead.” Even though Digory tries to smile, a translucent veil of fear clings to his face. Tiny red veins mar the whites of his eyes.
It doesn’t look like he’s gotten any sleep. Has he been awake since we reached this holding station? Watching over me?
He presses his large palm against my forehead. It feels cool, soothing against the heat baking my face. “Fever’s worse. You’re burning up.” His lips curl in. The muscles in his jaw flex.
“H-how l-long have I–I b-been out?” I force the words through chattering teeth.
“It’s been about five hours, I guess. Hard to say without a real sky.” He glances at the sterile artificial light shining down into the holding station.
I glance around the cramped, concrete dome that re-minds me of a beehive. Except in this case it’s what’s outside that can sting you dead.
Ophelia is pressed against one of the curved walls, doing some kind of stretching exercise. When she sees me, her eyes narrow and a long breath hisses out, as if she’s disappointed I’ve regained consciousness.
It’s a good thing the rules say we aren’t allowed to kill each other, otherwise I’d never get any rest.
On the opposite wall, Cypress sits cross-legged on the floor next to Gideon. She’s murmuring to him, stroking his hair.
Everything after that first Trial is a blur. All I remember is stumbling after the others through the dark metal catacombs of the Skein, trying to escape the horrors of the battle zone.
“You collapsed just after we got here,” Digory says. “I figured it was just exhaustion and stress after … ” He drops his gaze. “After what happened.” His eyes meet mine again. “But I saw you trembling, and when I came over to check on you, I realized it was a fever.” His fingers graze the crimson-stained bandage around my thigh. “How does it feel?”
I inhale sharply. Even his light touch sends electric pain rippling through me. “I’m … okay … just a little sore … ” Another chill rattles me. I press a fist against my lips to stifle a cough. Now it’s my turn to look away from him.
He lifts a corner of the bandage, careful not to touch the swollen skin beneath it. “I tried dressing it as best I could, but there aren’t any medical supplies here.” He tucks the bandage back. “Actually, there’s not much of anything here except a hard floor. No water, no food, not even a damn blanket. How do they expect us to keep going without any provisions?” He yells the last above him, for the benefit of Slade and whoever else is probably eavesdropping. When he looks at me again, his face is flushed, as if he, too, is suffering with fever. “I figured I’d try and keep you warm as best I could.”
He pulls the zipper of his jumpsuit up the rest of the way, hiding his bare chest.
All this time he’s been lying next to me, sharing his body heat to keep me warm.
Another shiver ripples through me.
“Anyway.” He stands. “You need to conserve your strength. I tried to let you get as much rest as possible, but you slept through the Sarge’s latest warning announcement.” His lips form a thin rigid line. “They’re about to cart us off to the next Trial, in the order we finished the last one.”