The Letting (6 page)

“No,” I reply, confused, “because they wouldn’t kill me.” She looks at me for a moment. Her eyes are sad and tired.

“Yes, they would, Ronnie. Yes, they would. Just the same as they would kill any of us.”

“But that’s the thing,” I protest. “They wouldn’t kill any of us.”

“Oh Ronnie.” Gretchen pats my uninjured knee. She suddenly seems the older, stronger one now. “Do you really believe in a magic world with candy drops on trees and rooms filled sky-high with toys?”

“Of course not,” I reply, my breath coming in short shallow gasps. “But I know there is a better world. Where my mother is. A place where we’ll all be going.”

“Of course there’s a better world.” Tears fill Gretchen’s normally milky eyes until they look like two buckets of crystal clear water. “It’s called Heaven, Ron. When they take us to the New World, they take us to our death.”

Chapter Four

Her words are so absurd, so ridiculous, I burst out laughing. Sitting here, tied to a stake, tethered to the earth, laughter pours out of me. It begins as if I’ve just heard a funny joke and then quickly escalates to hysteria. As swiftly as the laughing started, it morphs into tears, and I fight to take in even small gulps of air. I am trembling now, laughter shakes my body as tears stream down my face. My normally strong body feels weak, exhausted, as rolls of laughter and buckets of tears release from me simultaneously. I laugh and cry for minutes more, until I finally begin to calm. When I can see straight, I look at Gretchen and realize she is sitting there quietly.

“I knew you didn’t know.” She offers me a small, sad smile. “They said you had to know, but I knew you didn’t.”

Staring at Gretchen, I know she is telling me the truth. Shame radiates through my body with such force I cannot bear to hold my head up. I cannot bear to breathe. Slowly, I sink down, arms still pinned behind me, until I am parallel with the earth. The position I am in causes immense pain in my arms. Good, I think. Just good. I close my eyes to escape into darkness and lessen the guilt I am feeling, but instead of a reprieve, I see the face of every girl I have ever led to the Letting, of every girl I have ever promised a better life. Instead of trees with lollipop branches, I see mass graves of tiny bodies with their blood drained from them, one thrown carelessly on top of the other. It is unbearable. But I still have to know.

“Why?” I ask, certain now Gretchen will tell me the truth.

“Because the world that was supposed to develop, that altruistic, wonderful place where we all help one another, it never happened, Ron.”

“What did happen?” I can’t look at her, the mental and physical anguish too much to bear.

“It is worse than it was. We are a two-class system. The very wealthy people live in complete luxury. The rest of us serve them, body and soul.”

“But it’s so much blood,” I challenge, the prospect of something so horrific not making any sense to me. “Why would they need so much blood?”

“The wealthy people live their lives in the constant search for hedonistic pleasure. You remember that. It all started because they are involved in all sorts of activities that can harm them. Things we could never even imagine. They race against each other on small two wheeled vehicles, crashing into each other. They jump from bridges and flying objects, high in the sky, risking death. All for fun. And they get injured, and need blood.”

I pull myself up to a seated position, appreciative for the conversation that momentarily keeps my mind off who I am and what I’ve done. My arms are relieved once I’m in an upright position. She goes on.

“But more than anything they are a culture obsessed with youth and beauty. Once Principal Leader Farnsworth the First discovered the blood of a young girl can keep people young and help them live forever, well, there was no stopping them.”

“They do all this to stay young?” I ask, my eyes shut, disgusted at the prospect.

“Yes.” She nods. “All in the name of youth and beauty. They hope to live forever.”

“So they drain the life out of a young girl to prolong the life of an elderly woman?” I ask, breathlessly.

“We call them Leeches.” Gretchen faces me squarely and bites her lower lip. Then her mood changes a bit, and she seems to soften. “They don’t think of it like that.” She looks at the ground while she speaks. “They…they really don’t think about it at all. And the ones with the supply of blood that keeps the wealthy young, they make a fortune.”

“So they keep the money in their tight little circle.”

“Exactly.” She faces me again and her eyes harden.

“But what did they think would happen when they run out of young girls to Let?” I ask.

“Being driven solely by pleasure makes one forget about preparing for the future. So right now, there is an unbelievable shortage of girls. And too many boys. That’s why they increased the frequency of the Couplings. So much rides on very few women.”

I shudder at the thought, glad my own mother is free from her duty as a Coupling.

“Why aren’t they taking the boys to the Lettings?” I ask.

“They say it’s because they’ll have no one to work their factories and make their goods.”

I nod, finding it hard to swallow. I remember seven years ago when I was working in a factory, there were an inordinate number of boys to girls, even then.

“But the truth is whatever is in the blood of a ripe girl is the thing keeping them young. It doesn’t exist in boy blood. Phoenix thinks they’ll move on to the boys next. Desperation will lead them to try anything.”

“They’ll destroy an entire population.”

“Yes, it’s genocide,” she condemns. I hear the disgust in her voice. “Just a slow genocide that’s masked as something else entirely.”

“But why?” I ask. “Why do they bother to mask it? Why don’t they just take us all and do what they want with us?”

“It’s easier this way. Everyone is contained, and no one fights them. And as long as we have people like—” Gretchen stops herself and turns away.

“People like who?” I realize why she paused. “People like me? As long as they have people like me who are ignorant enough and evil enough to do their dirty work, well then, why rock the boat?”

“Something like that.” She looks down at her feet.

“We know why they want you.”

I turn, startled to find Phoenix standing at my side, less than a yard away from me. I never heard him approach.

“Why?” Gretchen asks, jumping up to stand next to Phoenix.

“Yes, why?” I ask, my curiosity winning out over my fear.

Phoenix looks at me with a pained expression. He lifts his arm as if he’s going to wave Gretchen on, away from me, then something changes his mind.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he mutters quietly, deciding to tell us both.

“What is it?” Gretchen asks, yanking on her ponytail impatiently. He speaks slowly so I’ll understand everything.

“Our…well their leader, Farnsworth, is a hemophiliac. Something they’ve kept secret and have never been able to cure. He takes regular blood transfusions, weekly. And he’s in desperate need. He thinks the transfusions will cure his condition. He’s terrified of dying and wants nothing more than to stay young.”

“And he’s an O,” I say, certain of it without Phoenix having to tell me. He just nods. I crane my neck to look at Phoenix, who is still standing at my side. “My girls? Wouldn’t there…” I feel sick as I form the words. “Wouldn’t there be enough…blood from them?”

“No. These tiny girls aren’t offering enough,” Gretchen explains.

“But the Harvesters…?” I ask.

“They’ve run dry,” Phoenix divulges. He shakes his head and kicks an innocent stone.

“You’re telling me, our cities have no more young girls who are O’s?” I ask, both stunned and skeptical.

Phoenix just looks away. I feel the rage growing inside me, and I struggle to turn to look Phoenix in the eye. “Are you saying they have already depleted an entire population of a blood type of young girls?”

“Young and adult both,” Gretchen whispers.

“Well, why haven’t you done anything about it?” I ask, nearly yelling at Phoenix. He looks surprised. “You seem to have all the answers,” I shout. “You tell me you know it all. You have the grand plan. So why didn’t you stop it before?”

Sitting there, staring up at him, I am disgusted with him, with me, and especially with the world we live in.

“I’m trying to do that, now.” His voice rises as he speaks, and he paces uneasily.

“But I’ve been there for seven years.” The tears stream down my cheeks. “I am personally responsible for killing hundreds of young girls. F-for…nothing… And you could have done something. You could have stopped it.”

“How?” he asks, and I hear the genuine question. I see the genuine pain in his eyes.

“You should have killed me,” I blurt. “You should have walked right into camp and shot me and Margaret, and Gretchen.” I glare at her. “And you should have taken those girls and run.”

“And where should I have gone once I had them?” Again, I hear the honest question in his voice. “Back to the city, where they’ll be harvested once again? A new camp will open. It will start all over again.”

“I don’t know,” I shout. “You’re the mastermind.”

He looks at me with so much hurt in his eyes it is painful to watch. But I cannot force my eyes away. Instead, my anger dissolves and instinctively, I want to reach out and touch him. I am eternally grateful my arms are tied.

Gretchen can tell we’ve gone way off track. “So they’ve turned to you. The only O they know of and can count on. I’m sure they think you’ll appreciate being the direct donor for Farnsworth himself.” Her words make me nauseated.

“But Gretchen, I can’t donate.” I’m still enraged. “You know that. My blood is toxic. Why would they want me?”

“They must think they’ve found a way to clean it.” She shrugs and throws up her hands.

I nod, understanding if I had made it to the Letting without interference, it would have been my job to serve Farnsworth until such time as I was no longer able to perform. I would have been the sole supplier to an atrocious dictator. To a man who tricked me into being his accomplice to murder. After years of using me indirectly to bring him wealth and fame, he now wants to use me directly to stay alive. I have never hated anyone this much. Not even Gunnar.

Thank God I have been caught by this small band of rebels. Now they can stop him by stopping me. I take a large gulp of the hot night air, grateful to be tethered to the earth.

“So these girls are the last?” I ask, thinking of my four little endangered waifs, asleep in their sleeping bags. “There are no babies after them?”

“None.” Gretchen shakes her head. “And there are hardly any young women to Couple.”

“What about where Farnsworth lives?” Then it dawns on me. “Is that the New World?”

“They call it that. We call it the Inferno.”

I nod along.

“What about the Inferno then? Couldn’t people there supply one another?”

“They could, I guess. But they don’t. They are the privileged ones. Even way back when blood donations first became mandatory, they somehow avoided it. Now they have laws and rules keeping them exempt. And they believe the stolen blood running through their veins is all that keeps them young. I doubt they’ll give it up willingly. Who knows.” She looks away, wistfully. “Maybe they’ll turn on each other one day.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I look at Phoenix. He has been remarkably quiet.

“Why don’t they keep the girls longer?” I ask, my body shaking even as I ask this question. “Blood renews itself. Why don’t they let them grow and create more?”

“Because they’re pigs,” Gretchen retorts, looking directly at me. “They are spoiled and rich. Every one of them. And they take everything they can from a girl. Young blood is riper, purer—blood filled with life. So they take what they need and they don’t think ahead. They just assume there will always be more. There always has been.”

“So they force the older girls who weren’t chosen to donate to more frequent Couplings, trying to create new blood,” I say, understanding. “And when I see a Letting girl is near blossoming and I report it…I send that girl to her death.”

“Yes,” Gretchen whispers, her eyes cast downward to the grass and dirt beneath us.

“And the law doesn’t allow cross vocations,” I state. “That’s why everyone wants to be a Letting so they’re sure not to become a Coupling. It’s just because no one really knows what happens to these Letting girls.”

“Yes. The truth is the Letting girls are too young and too weak to Couple and mother a child, but Farnsworth instated that bogus law about no Letting becoming a Coupling to make it sound like he cared. Really, up until now, he’s had a glut of girls so it was no problem. And now he’s afraid that if he pushed girls from the Letting to the Coupling, those in the city would revolt, and even the Leeches in the Inferno would begin to ask questions.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I ask, softly. “Why didn’t you let me know?”

“Would you have believed me?” Gretchen asks, looking straight into my eyes. “You are so damned…patriotic.” She stares angrily at me.

“I thought that was a good thing,” I say, flabbergasted.

“I know you did,” she responds, softly.

“But why didn’t you explain? Why didn’t you tell me what was happening? Why did you let me be so damned proud of the horrible things I was doing?”

“Because we couldn’t risk compromising the revolution.”

“Revolution?” I ask. “There’s a revolution?” Then the absurdity grasps hold of me. “But who’s revolting? The four of you?” I can hear the sarcasm in my voice, and I am immediately sorry for it.

“Yes,” Phoenix snipes, breaking his silence. “The four of us.”

“But how will you stop them?” I ask Phoenix. “It took you God knows how long to get to me, and when you did, it was merely by chance.”

I laugh a small, hysterical laugh. This is beyond ridiculous, and Phoenix, this fearless leader of four, needs to understand that.

He looks at me. His eyes are now hard and angry. He’s not my friend, nor is he on my side, and I need to remember that. I know I’ve overstepped a boundary, but I don’t know what the boundaries are in the case of kidnapping, planning a coup, and conspiracy. He must understand that. But I don’t think he does, because suddenly the comfort I’ve been feeling around Phoenix changes and I feel…uneasy.