The Elect: Malevolent, a Dystopian Novel (3 page)

I’m one of this year’s Elect.

Me.

Loud Eva.

Irresponsible Eva.

Impossible Eva.

Bs and Cs in school Eva.

I’m in the Elect?

This means…wow.

Mother and Father will have money.

This means they won’t lose the farm. They can pay off the mortgage. And the taxes. And there won’t ever be another green eviction notice taped on the door.

And not only can they keep the farm, but they can buy some more cows and another team of horses. And they can fix the barn. And the house. And Mother can hire someone to help her with her chores.

And Father can buy her a new wedding ring. A real gold ring, with a diamond.

But…but what about Sam?

Sam.

My Sam.

My perfect, wonderful, sweet Sam.

Ohhhh.

I won’t be meeting with Sam today at the creek.

I won’t be kissing him under our tree.

I won’t be marrying him after we graduate.

I won’t ever see that face he makes when he tastes my special cookies, or hear him sing our song, or feel his touch when I’m afraid.

My Sam won’t be mine anymore.

Correction, my Sam
isn’t
mine anymore.

I close my eyes and see his face. His soft eyes, framed with sooty black lashes. His mouth. His square, strong jaw. How long will that image in my mind stay so vivid? How long will it be before I forget about that little mole on his cheek? Or the slight cleft in his chin? A year? A month? Less?

My insides twist into a knot. It hurts. I press against my stomach. The pressure doesn’t ease the pain. Then I remember the rumors again. What if this woman is lying and there is no Elect? What if I’m being taken away to be sold as a slave? My blood chills. If the Elect were real, wouldn’t the woman next to me have told me I’d been selected right away, immediately after my exam?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand.

“Tell you what?” the woman asks.

“That I was chosen? You didn’t tell me right away. Why?”

“Were you scared?” Her eyes find mine. Her gaze is probing. I don’t like it. I feel like she’s trying to read my mind.

I nod. “Yes, I was afraid. A little.”

“It’s a test. Everything’s a test,” she tells me. She looks away, and I’m glad. I don’t want her staring at me. It’s too invasive.

“A test?” I ask. “It was a test? Of what?”

“Courage.”

The rickshaw turns onto a narrow street. This one is bumpier than the worst in Riverview. We are jostled in the seat as the driver veers from side to side to miss the biggest holes. I have to hold onto the bench to stay on. I briefly consider letting go, falling off and running back to Sam.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

My eyes burn. I blink. I can’t cry. Not now. Not here. I can’t show fear. Not to mention I need to stay alert, to watch which way we go, in case the rumors about the Elect are true.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I study our surroundings, looking for landmarks.

“You’ll find out soon.”

* * * * *

Soon doesn’t come fast enough. Not by a longshot.

We travel for a long time, past ruins of what had once been mansions. It hasn’t been that long since the Great Decimation, but nature’s claiming a lot of them already, just like it did the decomposing body of the dead baby bird I found outside our house. The skeletal remains are crowded by sapling trees and tall grasses. As I make note of each landmark, I try to imagine what the houses looked like before the Great Decimation. I’ve seen photographs in books and magazines. Of neatly trimmed lawns. Grand walkways leading up to massive front doors. Those are the images I see now in my head.

We pass a large house. Its heavy brick walls reach for the sky. I wonder what it was like to live in such a beautiful place. I wonder what it was like to be warm in the winter. To be able to eat any kind of food I wanted. To have free time to read or play or run, instead of work all day.

What will my future look like if I’m in the Elect? Will it be wonderful? Will I have plenty of food? A warm bed at night? Will I have free time to read?

It’s all so scary. I don’t know if the Elect is real or not. And even if it is real, I have no idea what it means to be selected. All I’ve heard is that the members of each year’s Elect are trained for special jobs within the human government. I have no clue what those jobs might be. There haven’t been a lot of kids selected from Riverview. But of those chosen, none have ever returned.

I can’t imagine not ever seeing my friends, my family, everyone I know and love again.

Love.

Sam.

I know one thing for sure. I won’t live the simple life I planned with Sam. That dream is over. I don’t want to believe it.

It’s going to be hard letting it go.

It’s going to be hard letting Sam go.

If only there was some way I could be with Sam anyway, I would never complain about anything. About working hard. About rising before the sun. About Stu’s incessant crowing or Mother’s percussion concerts or getting dirt packed under my fingernails. I would gladly be a slave, a soldier, anything they want me to be, if I could just be with Sam.

If only.

The future isn’t mine to decide anymore.

Holy shit!

The rickshaw takes another turn. Now we’re traveling down a narrow dirt road. It plunges into a thick forest. I don’t know where we are. I look back. We’ve traveled a long way. Nothing is familiar.

I wish Sam was with me.

Travel is slower now. The road is rutted and overgrown, barely visible. It carries us far, far away, into a foreign land.  I see no houses, only the occasional ruins of a barn, beaten down by storms and wind and snow. I want to jump out of the taxi and run back, but, despite trying to watch for landmarks, we’ve gone too far now. I wouldn’t be able to find my way home. I hear strange sounds in the forest. Animals are hiding in the shadows. Paws crunching on fallen leaves and shaking scrubby shrubs as they dart away from us. Are they coyotes? Wolves? Bears? Would they hunt me down if I jumped?

My stomach grumbles and the woman hands me a bar from her bag. “Eat it,” she tells me.

I’m not sure whether I’m hungry or sick. I take a taste. It’s made from oats and raisins. Not my favorite, but it disappears in minutes. My mouth is dry afterward, but my stomach feels better.

Finally we stop. In the middle of the forest. In the middle of nowhere.

There’s no building in sight. No people. I see nothing…but trees and grass and more trees. The woman climbs down. “This way,” she whispers. She puts her index finger to her lips, telling me to be quiet. I don’t ask her why. But it makes me even more scared. If I’m one of the Elect, why would we need to be silent?

I need to be ready to run. Just in case. I hope I can run. I walk okay now. The medicine seems to have worn off.

We follow a narrow path down a slight incline. Walls of tall grass and wildflowers close us in on two sides. I look up and see the darkening sky. It’s getting late. I look down and see a packed-dirt path.

Where are we going?

I’m slightly curious but also sad and scared too. I’m effing miles and miles from home. No one has told me what will happen next. My nerves feel like they’ve been stretched to the point of snapping.

I want to cry.

Holy shit, I never cry.

Ahead of me the woman stops and kicks the ground. A section of the earth lifts, revealing a dark hole. It’s a hidden door. She steps down and I come closer, seeing a set of stairs descending into the earth. She motions for me to follow her.

I don’t.

If I follow, I’ll be completely trapped. Alone. With her. A liar.

Until this point I’ve had the option of escaping. Although I didn’t, I could have jumped from the rickshaw. I could have turned back and ran. At least, I could have
tried
.

But once I go in there, I’ll be inside a structure with walls, doors…
locks
. If she wants to hurt me, or worse, escape might be impossible.

But why? Why would she want to hurt me?

I stare into the dark hole.

Am I one of the Elect? Or am I being sold into slavery?

Or is it neither of those?

The woman is waiting for me to make a decision. Will I follow? Or will I run? It’s another test.
Everything is a test.
She’s watching me. But she isn’t yelling or demanding or pleading. She’s just…waiting.

What should I do?

I make my choice and take the first step. And the second. Those first two are difficult. I’m torn between mild curiosity and almost overwhelming fear. The rest of the steps are easier. Curiosity has won over fear. Trust has won over distrust. At least for now.

At the bottom of the staircase the ground is smooth concrete. A solid-looking door stands between us and whatever is inside. The woman knocks. I hear several locks click and then the door swings open. The lock is on the inside. I won’t be locked in. I can unlock the door whenever I want. I breathe a little easier.

The woman steps into a dimly-lit room with a low ceiling. I follow her.

The room is small with concrete walls. Old couches with tattered upholstery are arranged in a U shape at one end. Several kids are sitting on them, talking in low voices. More are standing in a group next to the wall. All of them look at me.

My gaze travels from one face to another. None of them are familiar. I notice their clothes. They look nothing like mine, which are sewn at home on Mother’s antique treadle sewing machine. Not only is my dress more plainly constructed but it’s also made of more coarsely-woven fabric than theirs. And it’s white. Mother doesn’t waste money on dye.

Now I feel even more uncomfortable. I don’t fit in with these kids. I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall.

A couple of the kids standing across from me whisper to each other, eyes flicking my way. They’re talking about me. And laughing. Assholes.

I want to leave. I want to go home. I want to see Sam. But I also want to know why I’ve been brought here.

This awkward feeling takes me back to my first day of school. I remember that day, the stares, and the giggles. I never expected to go through that hell a second time.

“We’re waiting for a few more newcomers,” the woman says to nobody directly. “Once they have arrived, we will begin.”

“Begin what?” I ask.

“The choosing. You’ve been brought here to choose,” she tells me.

Choosing? “What am I choosing?” I ask. “I thought we were
chosen
. That’s what you told me.”

Some of the kids roll their eyes. Evidently I’m the only one who has no idea what’s going on. I jerk up my chin and glare at the tall girl who is leering at me. I won’t let her, or anyone, make me feel stupid for asking a simple question.

“All will be explained soon,” the woman says. She opens a door and disappears, leaving me alone with the other kids, including the leering girl.

I’m nervous and jittery but don’t want anyone to know. I glance around the room. A jug sits on a shelf, with cups stacked next to it. I’m hoping it’s full of water. I pour myself a cup and take a taste. It is.

Someone taps my shoulder and I turn.

A girl with shiny copper-colored hair and the smoothest, whitest skin I’ve ever seen smiles at me. Unlike the woman’s smile, this girl’s is bright, genuine. Her round, golden-brown eyes glimmer. They match the shimmering gold top she’s wearing. The front plunges in a vee and the hem skims her belly, exposing a slice of skin when she moves. Her pants contour to her body. Her clothes are unlike anything I’ve ever worn. “I’m Mattie. Are you from Riverview?” she asks.

“Yes,” I answer.

“I thought so.” Her gaze wanders up and down my body. “Your clothes—not that they’re ugly or anything. They’re…charming. In an old-fashioned way.” Charming? Old fashioned? She grabs my hand and pulls me toward one of the couches. “I live in Middleton.” She flops down, pulling me with her. “Tell me, what’s it like, living in Riverview? I’ve never been anywhere but Middleton, before today.”

“I’ve never been anywhere but Riverview,” I tell her. “Is Middleton really like they say? Are there steam cars and trucks? Streets as smooth as glass?”

She giggles and her lovely eyes sparkle again and I instantly like her, despite the fact that she’s laughing at my question. Unlike the other kids, she isn’t judging me. She’s just curious and amused. Curious and amused…and wary. Like me.

“In Riverview you don’t have s
treets
?”

I shake my head. “Well, we have streets. But they aren’t smooth. The better ones are crumbling. The worst have enormous sinkholes, some as big as a house.”

Her eyes pop out of her head a little. “Wow,” she says. “So it’s true? Things are very different outside of Middleton. My father is a courier. He works for the government. And we have all the luxuries you could imagine. Everyone in Middleton does. We have electric power. Radios. Refrigerators. Lights.”