The Culling by Steven Dos Santos Page A

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    His body stiffens. The familiar fear reappears in his eyes. “No, Sir!”
    “Too bad. I’m known for possessing one of the keenest senses of humor in the entire battalion.” Her words are as dry as sun-baked sand. “So if you’re not laughing at my wit, you must be laughing at my person. Do you find me odd-looking, Recruit?”
    “No, Sir!”
    “Foolish then?”
    “Not at all, Sir!”
    “I see. Then you must be mad, Recruit. Simply laughing at things for no reason at all. Are you mentally deficient, Recruit?”
    “Yes … I mean … no … Sir!” Sweat gathers on Gideon’s brow.
    Despite his slight toward Digory, I can’t help feeling sorry for Gideon and angry at myself. I never stood up and defended him against his tormentors at school, and I can’t do it now.
    Slade sucks in her cheeks. “You are just incapable of formulating your own thoughts and standing by the strength of your convictions, Recruit.”
    “Yes, Sir!” Gideon squeals.
    Slade claps her hands. “At last, an honest answer. How refreshing! And to whom do I owe this kernel of truth in this granary of deception?”
    “Pardon me, Sir?”
    She sighs. “You were doing so well for a moment. Your name , Recruit. What is it? Or should I just call you Recruit Dense?”
    “Oh, Gideon Warrick, Sir! But you can call me whatever you please.”
    “Recruit Dense it is, then. And nothing about you will ever please me.”
    She moves away without another word. My heart goes into overdrive as she hovers into view, her shadow moving across me and eclipsing the overhead fluorescents.
    “Lucian Spark, Sir!” I volunteer, figuring I’ll save her the trouble and speed up the ritual.
    The frost in her eyes tells me I might have exercised a severe lapse in judgment.
    Her brows stretch toward each other. “It surely has been a grueling day. I must be tired. There’s no other explanation for why I imagined this Recruit speaking to me without first being addressed.”
    “I’m sorry, Sir!”
    She palm-slaps her forehead. “It just happened again! I need to get myself checked out by Medical as soon as possible to ascertain whether or not I’m having some kind of breakdown.”
    I’m about to respond, but my teeth decide to prevent my tongue from making the situation worse. Just relax, stare straight ahead but avoid eye contact. Breathe deeper, slower … imagine Cole’s face, not the visage of this scaly reptile in front of me ready to sink its fangs into my self-respect and spit it out.
    “Actually, Recruit,” she drones on, “now that the voices in my head seem to have cleared, I see you aren’t really in need of an introduction after all, considering your memorable performance during the Induction Ceremony.”
    Again my teeth come to my tongue’s rescue. I didn’t hear a question or a direct address, so I continue to stare past this moment to some imagined, undetermined future time when Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe are miraculously waiting for me at home.
    “What’s the matter, Lucian Spark? Does being involved in a plot to overthrow our government render one incapable of forming a complex and cohesive sentence?”
    “Don’t know, Sir.”
    “You don’t know how to form a complex and cohesive sentence?”
    “No, Sir. I was referring to your insinuation that I’m involved in any type of treasonous actions against the Establishment. On this topic, I possess no knowledge whatsoever and can say nothing to help further your assertions except that they are completely invalid.”
    The only rebel around appears to be my tongue. I can’t help myself. It’s worth whatever degradation she plans on inflicting on me if it’ll wipe that smug look off her face, even for just one moment.
    But instead, my little rant just seems to have dangled a slab of meat to her starving sadism. Her lips peel back even further from her glistening teeth, and for a second it looks like her jaw’s about to unhinge to swallow me whole.
    “How arrogant, for someone who