We’ve finally stopped spinning.
Digory pulls away to get a better look at me. “Still in one piece?”
I nod, not trusting my mouth to open again.
A terrible rumble fills my ears, and we both look up-
Just in time to see the wall collapsing toward us in a hailstorm of stone.
Digory springs to his feet and yanks me to mine. “Run!”
We slog through the fetid bog as fast as we can, dodging slabs of rock that crash everywhere around us, drenching us with putrid waves.
“This way.” Digory jerks me to the left just as a stone chunk slams into the ground that I occupied a mere second ago.
“Watch out! ” I return the favor by pushing him out of the way of another block twice his size.
Ahead of us, Cypress and Gideon are scrambling out of the quagmire, with Ophelia just ahead of them.
I grab Digory’s hand and tug him faster, too afraid to risk a glimpse at the destruction behind us that continues to pound the earth.
We clear the marshland at last and let go of hands, sprinting like the wind. Although I have the crushing urge to look into Digory’s eyes, I pull away and will myself to go faster and faster, despite the ache of my starving lungs and the wild hammer of my heavy heart.
I look up just in time to see Ophelia cross the finish line. She throws up her hands in triumph and drops to her knees.
My veins are an adrenaline refinery, charging the engine of my heart, which pistons my legs like a well-oiled machine.
Cypress crosses the finish line next. Unlike Ophelia, she collapses onto her back and just lies there … her ordeal over …
Scrounging the last of my energy reserves, I narrow the gap until I’m almost even with Gideon. I glance over and our eyes meet.
There’s a desperate hunger there. The first time I’ve seen it since we were recruited.
He wants to win this time. Just as badly as I do.
And every agonizing second he’s pulling further and further into the lead …
Digory’s a blur as he swoops past on my other side and catches up to Gideon. They race neck and neck, leaving me trailing in last place.
My lungs chug like a steam engine. They’re almost at the finish line. No way I can catch them, much less win-
Gideon stumbles into Digory, whether on purpose or accidentally, I can’t be sure. The two tumble to the ground just shy of their goal. I leap over their bodies and sail across the finish line. My chest heaving, I whirl.
Gideon’s crawling over Digory’s body, inches from the finish line.“I’m … sorry,” he sobs.
Digory’s eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry too.”
He lifts his torso up, thick chords bulging from the sides of his neck. Gideon’s eyes stretch wide. Then Digory twists around, grabs Gideon by the throat, and tosses him backward.
Gideon lands with a loud thud on his back.
And Digory crawls over the finish line and into my arms, burying his face against my chest.
I’m too stunned to speak and can only hold him, rocking him back and forth even as tears stream from my eyes and into his golden hair.
A few feet away, Gideon rises to a sitting position. The life that had returned to his eyes is gone again and he just stares, his lips moving soundlessly.
Recruit Warrick. You have ranked last in this Trial. You will now step forward onto the podium as there is still a selection to be made.
thirty-three
Still a selection? What the hell is Slade talking about? What else could he possibly choose? I thought that once you lost your second Incentive, it was just a matter of watching them be executed before you were condemned to the work camps. What new level of depravity are they sinking to now?
The familiar hum of a platform rising to the surface fills the quiet. It lifts all the way, then is as silent as it’s dark.
Gideon trudges across the finish line like a sleepwalker.
A long sigh hisses from Ophelia’s lips. “Oh, well. One down … ” She shakes her head and turns away.
Digory steps forward. “Gideon. I had no choice.”
“I forgive you.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter anymore anyway.”
His tone … the look in his eyes … sadden and terrify me.
Cypress wraps her arms around him.
He kisses her on the forehead and traces a tear down her cheek. “You’re supposed to be the tough one, remember?”
Her face contorts. “Y-yes, S-Sir.”
He smiles at her and pulls away.
Then he turns to me and takes off his glasses, placing them in my palm, and closes my fingers over them. “Can you hold these for me?”
A lump wedges in my throat. “Aren’t you going to need them?” My voice cracks.
He squeezes my hand. Then he walks past all of us and up the stairs until he’s standing right next to the chamber.
The lights in the enclosure grow bright.
Mr. Warrick is standing on one side of the structure separated by a partition from the other, darkened side. His arms are strapped to the wall behind him. He looks even more haggard, his hair scraggly threads, his eyes sunken and hollow. It’s as if he’s already died inside.
The outer door to the chamber hisses open.
Recruit Warrick. You will now step inside and make your selection.
Gideon walks past the threshold. He stumbles and braces himself against the glass, staring at his father.
The door hisses shut behind him and the lock engages with a sharp click.
Cypress’s bandaged hand trembles against mine. “What are they going to do now?”
I can only shake my head, terrified at what’s to come, unable to tear myself away.
Recruit Warrick. The time has now come for your second Incentive to be shelved. But you still have a choice in the matter.
The other half of the chamber lights up at last. My insides turn to liquid.
The entire side is jammed with rodents-large rats, larger than any I’ve ever seen in the Parish, at least three feet in length not counting their sickening pink serrated tails. They’ve obviously been bred as weapons, just like the bees that devoured Mrs. Juniper. Glowing orange eyes glare at us. The mutant rodents snap at each other with bared teeth, some chomping into the bodies of the others with razor-sharp fangs that drip with drool, greenish against the dark crimson wounds. Claws that are more like talons scratch against the glass of their prison. And to make things worse, the sound of their screeching, now amplified through the sound system, makes every hair on my body prickle …
Recruit Warrick. Either you allow your Incentive to be shelved in the manner prescribed … or, should you elect, you have the option of shelving your Incentive in a more sedate manner. One which you must carry out personally.
A pedestal rises from the floor.
On it lies a solitary object, reflecting the bright light in its smooth silver finish.
A gun.
Be warned. The weapon’s firepower will not penetrate the reinforced glass surrounding the chamber. You now have sixty seconds to make your decision, Recruit Warrick.
Gideon walks up to his father’s side of the tank and splays his fingers against it.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” he says. “I guess I am a real loser, just like everyone says.” He shrugs and drops his gaze, his shoulders heaving.
Mr. Warrick’s eyes stream wetness down the concaves of his cheeks. “I’m the one that’s sorry, son. For not protecting you, keeping you safe. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But please, son, I beg you. Show me mercy.”
He nudges his head toward the rats without looking at them, his face flinching against the sounds of scratching and screeching. “I don’t want to go that way.”