The Elect: Malevolent, a Dystopian Novel Read online

  It seems I’m about to learn the truth.

  She grips the handle and smiles. Her smile is disturbing. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I wonder what she isn’t telling me.

  “Good luck,” she says. That’s all. Just good luck. Then she opens the door.

  The room is white inside. Sterile, blank, blinding white. An odd-looking chair sits in the room’s center. It looks like a dentist’s chair. I hate dentists.

  I glance at the lady, asking with my eyes, what this is. I want to know what the hell is going on. Where are the desks? The pieces of paper? The pencils?

  Is the Exam a…a physical exam?

  I hadn’t considered that possibility.

  “Have a seat, please.” She gives me a little push and slams the door behind me. I hear the lock slide in place. I try the handle anyway. It won’t open.

  I’m locked in?

  Why?

  Cold sweat prickles over my skin. I look at the chair. Do I sit? Do I wait for someone to come into the room? Whatever is about to happen, it has to happen soon. I know the other kids weren’t in this room more than three minutes.

  I also know the other kids didn’t like it.

  A lump the size of my house gets stuck in my throat.

  A year later (or so it seems) the lock rattles. The knob twists. The school’s nurse enters. She’s wearing a white lab coat, her usual too-tight hair bun, and her trademark scowl. One hand is in her pocket. “Please sit.” She points at the chair.

  I look at her.

  I look at the chair.

  “Sit, please,” she repeats.

  What do I do? Should I ask to be excused? I could. Actually, that sounds like a damn fine idea.

  But…

  But if I’m excused, I will have absolutely zero chances of making it into the Elect.

  I want to be chosen for the Elect. I need to be chosen. How could I just walk away from this opportunity?

  You’re no baby. Get in the damn chair.

  I set my hand on the chair’s armrest. My heart hammers against my breastbone.

  Why am I so jumpy? Why? This is the same nurse who cleaned my knee when I fell on the playground in kindergarten. This is the nurse who pulled the bee stinger out of my hand in second grade, too. And gave me an ice pack when I jumped off the swing in fourth grade and tore open both hands. I can trust her. Of course I can. She isn’t going to hurt me.

  I sit. “I didn’t realize the Exam was a physical examination.”

  She smiles and nods. I swear to God, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen her smile. What does that mean? “It’ll only take a moment.” She pulls her hand out of her pocket. Clasped in it is a small glass bottle. She removes the cork and hands it to me. “Drink this.”

  The bottle feels cold and small in my hand as I accept it. I lift it to my nose. The clear liquid reeks and makes my eyes water.

  Still smiling, she gives my hand a nudge. “Down you go. I have a lot more students to see today.”

  I close my eyes and tip the bottle back, dumping the contents into my mouth. I reflexively swallow. It burns my throat. Heat shoots through my body.

  Suddenly I can’t move. Not a finger. Not a toe.

  I try to blink. I try to speak. Panic grips me like a vice. Black clouds gather around me, cutting off my sight.

  I’m terrified. What kind of hell is this? Have I been poisoned?

  The nurse’s voice is muffled. I hear her speak to me. She’s telling me to relax.

  Relax? How can I do that? I’m effing dying.

  Relaxxx.

  Relaxxxxxxx.

  Ahhhhh.

  I’m not dying. I’m drifting. In a warm, dark place. Shapes are forming from the blackness. Shifting. Moving. What are they? Helloooo shapes. Let’s be friends.

  “Safe. You’re safe,” I hear the nurse say.

  I’m safe. I’m good. Everything is good. I’m here with my friends.

  She asks, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” I hear my voice. Did I just speak? Or am I dreaming?

  She asks a second question, and again I hear an answer. Several more questions follow that one, I think. I can’t be sure of anything. All I know is the darkness is so good. I like it. But it’s starting to lift. My shadowy friends are leaving.

  My finger wiggles. I can scrunch my nose. I open my eyes.

  My legs move.

  I can move.

  I inhale deeply and look left, right.

  She’s gone.

  Is it…over?

  What just happened?

  * * * * *

  The other lady returns, the one I don’t know. She has a great big smile on her face. I’m not sure I like the way she’s looking at me, like she’s a starving two year old and I’m a big piece of cake with extra frosting.

  “Up you go.” She waves me to the door. “Follow me, please.”

  I swing my legs off the chair and stand. I’m not steady. My feet feel heavy, like my shoes have been encased in thick mud. I stagger to the door and turn toward the gym. All I can think about is talking to Sam, telling him what the Exam was like and asking Emma how it was for her.

  But she grabs my shoulders. “No, no. We’re going this way.” She points me in the other direction, and I conclude the kids who’ve completed their exams are returning to their classrooms so we don’t miss more class time.

  That’s a great idea. I’m glad we’re getting back to normal. I like normal. Normal is good.

  Then again, I don’t want to go to history. We’re taking a quiz today. On twentieth century America.

  I turn and stagger-walk down the hall toward my first class. But just as I reach the door she pushes on my shoulders, forcing me past it.

  Where the hell does she want me to go?

  “This way, please,” she says.

  My head is still a little foggy and my thoughts are disjointed, but in the back of my mind I know something isn’t right. The classroom door has a window, allowing me to see inside.

  The room is empty.

  I was wrong. The other kids haven’t gone to class.

  So why am I being pushed down this hallway? Why haven’t I returned to my chair next to Sam’s?

  “Where are we going?” I ask. My words are still slurred. I sound funny. I want to laugh at myself.

  “Outside.”

  Her voice isn’t sharp. She sounds very calm and kind and friendly. But she isn’t acting calm or kind. She’s nudging me along as if I need to hurry.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because, you still seem a little out of sorts. I thought you could use some fresh air.”

  Her explanation is reasonable. I can accept it. I want to accept it because if she’s lying I have no clue what’s going on. But I’m still scared and suspicious and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to look like an idiot. If I scream for help or try to run (emphasis on try), will I fall on my ass? Will everyone point and laugh? Will I be teased for the rest of the year? Knowing my classmates the answer to all those questions is yes.

  I can’t scream.

  I can’t run.

  I just have to trust this stranger is telling the truth. After all, what reason would she have to lie?

  I step outside.

  The sunlight scorches my eyes, blinding me. I shade them with my hand but tears wet my lashes and blur my vision. I squint and blink, willing my eyes to adjust to the brightness. “This way,” the lady says and takes my arm. She smiles. But her grip on my arm is very tight. I don’t like her touching me.

  I try to pull away but she won’t let me go. “What’s wrong?” I ask. My heart races. My blood turns to ice. Something’s wrong. I know it. And I’m terrified.

  “Shhhhh,” she shushes me. Then she repeats, “It’s okay. This way.” She leads me to a cycle taxi. The driver watches us approach. The woman holding my arm shoves me toward the seat. “Get in. Hurry.”

  It’s not okay. I don’t want to go anywhere with this bitch. “No.” Wishing I had screamed when
I had the chance, I twist my arm. “Let me go.”

  The woman doesn’t let go. “I can’t. This is for your own good. Please stop fighting me.”

  “What’s for my own good?” I shout. “Where are we going?”

  “Home. I’m taking you home.” She motions to the rickshaw. “Now, please, get in.”

  “Home?” I repeat. Home? She’s taking me home?

  My terror eases. My heart rate slows.

  That medicine. It must be making me crazy. Paranoid.

  Home. I’m going home. Everything is okay.

  I want some more coffee. I love coffee.

  She explains, “You’ve had a reaction to the examination. You need to get some rest.”

  I’ve had a reaction?

  Maybe.

  My mind is still groggy.

  I’m unsteady on my feet.

  I’m talking kind of funny too. My words are very slurred.

  Yes, it makes sense that I’ve had a reaction. I nod and climb in. I’m going home. To have coffee.

  Once I’m aboard, she joins me.

  The driver pedals us away from school.

  I’m leaving for the day. Yay! Goodbye school! Goodbye Principal Cline. Goodbye history quiz.

  Goodbye Sam.

  Oh, shit.

  Sam.

  Sam will wonder where I’ve gone. Sam might worry. I don’t want him to worry.

  “Before we leave, I need to get a message to someone,” I tell the lady.

  “You can do that later.”

  “Okay.” I decide I’ll ride to the creek later to meet Sam. After I have some coffee. Oh, wait. My bike. I left my bicycle at school. I’ll have to get it before I meet with Sam. I hope it doesn’t take long for that medicine (poison) to wear off.

  The taxi turns left onto Michigan Avenue. We’re traveling east. East. My house is west of school, the other way. “Excuse me.” I wave my hand at the driver. His back is to us. He’s hunched over the handlebars. And he’s pedaling like a fiend, steering through the rough terrain. He doesn’t look at me or answer me, so I tell the woman, “My house is that way.” I point west.

  “Yes. I know,” she says.

  Okay, now I’m confused. And worried. “But you said you were taking me home. Home is that way.” I point again.

  “Yes, I did say that. And I am taking you home.” She smiles. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  Liar.

  What the hell is going on?

  “Did I do something wrong?” I ask as I watch the school behind me grow more and more distant. We’re traveling fast. Away from everything I know and love.

  Oh shit. Am I being kidnapped?

  Panic winds through me like a viper, tugging my body into hard knots. I can’t move. I can’t think. Is this really happening? What should I do?

  “Absolutely not,” she answers. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing at all.”

  This bitch is a worse liar than me. “Why are you taking me away, then?”

  “Eva, when I said I was taking you home, I didn’t mean Whitmore Street. I’m taking you to your new home. You’ve been selected, Eva. Congratulations. You’re one of this year’s Elect.”

  Chapter 3

  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.