The Culling by Steven Dos Santos Page B

barely dodged execution but for the rank sentimentality of our new Prefect. It appears he believes that the scum of society should be given the chance to reform.” She leans in, close to my ear. “I assure you, we Imposers are not quite as gullible.”
    My gut explodes in a burst of anguish generated by her powerful fist. I double over in agony and drop to my knees, waves of nausea and pain alternately slamming into my body. Clutching my burning stomach, I open my mouth, convulsing but only retching up air.
    When I open my flooded eyes, it takes a moment to focus. Why are there two Slades glowering down at me? I shift my gaze to the six Recruits besides her. A few blinks and six become three. But only one isn’t staring straight ahead. Only one is looking directly at me.
    Digory.
    Slade has her back to him and she misses the flash of tenderness on his face—the same look I remember when he nursed me back in that alley, a lifetime ago it seems. Then Digory’s eyes dart to Slade, transforming into angry orbs. I catch a glimpse of a curling fist. He’s about to make another monumental mistake with grave consequences for his life, second only to meeting and befriending me. If he attempts to strike her, the Imp sentries will cut him down before he can get within a few feet of her.
    I force a palm up. “ Please … ”
    Though the words are meant for Digory, the satisfied sneer on Slade’s face indicate she thinks they’re a gift to her. Let her relish her false victory, as long as it keeps Digory breathing.
    He stares back at me. I try to channel the power of my words into that soothing blueness, willing him to understand just how much I need him to listen to me right now.
    I’m rewarded with a barely perceptible nod and an un-furling hand.
    My head slumps down in relief this time.
    “So, the traitor has learned a little humility,” Slade croaks. “The first of many lessons to be learned during the Trials. Though I confess, Spark, I’m rooting for your early elimination. The rest of these incompetent Recruits may be an embarrassment to the Establishment, but your ascension and assimilation into the ranks would be nothing short of a travesty.”
    Then Digory starts to move, and I cringe when I think of him throttling her and paying the price. But he moves past her in a flash, instead stooping beside me.
    “What are you doing, Recruit Tycho? No one gave you permission—”
    “He’s hurt, Sir!”
    And without waiting for her to continue, he takes me in his arms and lifts me to my feet, making sure I can stand on my own before he lets go.
    The loud clicks of the sentries’ weapons being locked and loaded shatters the tense quiet. In a flash, their guns are trained on us, ready to fire .

Twelve
    The longest seconds of my life pass, without any blinks or breaths …
    Despite my lingering nausea, I shift my stance and lock my feet firmly in place. My whole body is tense, waiting for the impact of the bullets to rip me apart. I wonder if it’ll be over quick, or if I’ll feel the burning in my guts as I’m torn inside out?
    Digory moves from behind to stand beside me, one of his shoulders shielding half my body.
    Finally, Slade gestures to the sentinels. “Stand down.”
    The Imps lower their weapons but hold their position. Digory gives my shoulders a final squeeze, then resumes his place in the formation.
    I set the breath I’ve been holding free.
    Slade stares Digory down. “Thank you, Recruit Tycho. Your generous assistance has provided me and the other Recruits with much valuable insight.”
    A test. It was all a test designed to expose any attachments among the Recruits, affecting everyone’s strategies and alliances in the upcoming Trials. Digory and I might as well have paraded naked for everyone to see.
    Gideon shoots me a suspicious what was that all about look and turns away. Perhaps he’s already rethinking our deal. From what I can see of Cypress, her cocky expression would suggest she’s already