The Selection Page 14

  Phelan turned to Eron. "Now it's time to die."

  CHAPTER 40

  Phelan approached Eron with the knife pointed towards him. He left the staff on the ground near the wounded craates.

  "I've had enough of you, Eron. It's your time to die. Like I said, only the strong get to live."

  "Phelan, please. No, don't do this." He held up his hands to ward off the impending attack.

  Eron saw a flash of black race through the forest around them. A craate yelped. Then another. And another until their snarls went silent.

  Phelan turned, looking for the source of the craates' pain. He saw the flash of black. "Stupid Forgotten!"

  Eron took a chance and lunged at Phelan's legs, knocking the boy down. He climbed on top of him, trying to hold his arms down, but Phelan was much stronger and resisted.

  "Now you decide to show some courage," Phelan said. "Too bad it's too late for you." He pushed Eron's hands away and tossed him aside with ease.

  "No more games, Eron!" Phelan tackled him to the ground and punched him in the face, his nose becoming bloodier and more painful than he thought possible. Eron tried to block the blows as Phelan kept pummeling him.

  "Die, Eron! You're too weak for this world!" Phelan screamed. Spit flew out of his mouth.

  He screamed, and in the back of his mind he thought of Timo. He could hear Timo's screams and he understood his brother's fear. He understood his pain. He'd soon understand his death.

  "Goodbye, Eron," said Phelan as he raised his fist in the air while clutching the boy's throat.

  Eron's vision was obscured by a large black shape that flew in from his right side and tossed Phelan off him. The creature snarled. At first, Eron thought it was one of the craates, but it was too bulky.

  He pushed himself off the ground, expecting any moment to be taken by the craates. When he turned his groggy and painful head towards the black figure, he saw it was one of the Forgotten.

  "Get off me!" Phelan screamed. The beast snarled and roared loud, his head rearing back. Then, with giant black fists, he struck Phelan in the face and body. The boy didn't stand a chance against the much larger and more ferocious Forgotten.

  "Stop! Leave me alone! Eron! Eron, please help me!" Phelan said. For a moment, Eron thought about attacking the Forgotten, but his fuzzy mind slowed his actions.

  "Help?" Eron said in a weak voice. Blood dripped down his lips to his chin.

  The Forgotten pummeled Phelan despite the boy's protests. Thick black arms raised and lowered, smacking into the boy with a sick rhythm. Deep thuds sounded with each blow. Bones cracked. Blood sprayed.

  Eron watched it unfold in front of him, his mind not registering exactly what was going on. It was like the time he stole some of his mother's alcohol and drank much more than he should've and everything was blurry and spinning. Like then, he lost focus on what was going on. He knew Phelan was under the Forgotten, but his ability to care or act vanished.

  Phelan screamed as the Forgotten attacked him. He tore into the boy.

  "Eron, please help me! I'm sorry. We can finish this. We can make it to the end!" Phelan screamed. The Forgotten smacked him in the mouth, sending a tooth flying. He continued to pummel Phelan.

  Something in Eron snapped. He lunged at the Forgotten, barely knocking him off Phelan. He couldn't let him kill his friend. Betrayal or not, he vowed to save lives, not end them. He kicked at the Forgotten. He howled and ran a few meters away until he stopped and turned around, waiting. He was covered in Phelan's blood, matting his thick hair with gore.

  The Forgotten cocked his head at Eron, the boy felt as though he saw recognition in his face. The Forgotten’s eyes widened, then he stepped towards Eron. What Bello had started and Phelan continued, he was sure the creature was going to finish.

  "Kill me and be done with it. I can't go on anymore," Eron said. The creature raised his fists as if to strike him. Eron lowered his head.

  "Timo, I come to find you now," Eron said.

  The creature halted. He relaxed and dropped his arms.

  "Go!" he screamed at Eron. "Go that way and never turn back." The voice was familiar. Timo's? But that wasn't possible. Eron’s stressed brain teetered on the edge of insanity.

  "I said go!" the Forgotten said when Eron didn't move. When he stood and looked at the creature, he appeared to be crying. "Go that way! Don't turn back. Ever! This is not for you. You get to live."

  Eron was frozen by his words.

  The creature roared. "I said leave!" He lunged at Eron, backing him up, and Eron tripped over Phelan. He landed on his back, and Phelan leapt on him.

  Bloody from the Forgotten's beating, Phelan struck at Eron, who covered his face and blindly punched and kicked. The Forgotten roared. Eron struck Phelan in the ribs and the boy buckled. He pushed Phelan upwards and knocked the boy off him.

  "Please stop this! We can work it out. There's no need for us to kill each other." Eron held Phelan's arms to the ground. The blue boy hissed at him.

  "Let me go, and I'll kill you Eron. You're weak and don't deserve to live." Eron held steady.

  "It doesn't have to end this way, Phelan! This is wrong!"

  Phelan struggled against the hold and pushed Eron off him. He struck the other boy several times in the face.

  "I told you I'm going to kill you, Eron." Phelan lunged with his knife. It missed its mark and Eron grabbed his wrist, intending on forcing it from his hand. Instead in the struggle, he pushed the blade into Phelan's stomach. The blue boy's eyes grew wide.

  "No, Phelan! No I didn't mean it! We can both live through this!" Phelan fell to the ground.

  Blood gurgled in Phelan's mouth. He turned his head. He mouthed the word, "Eron," before his eyes closed.

  "Phelan, no! It was an accident. I'm so sorry!" He lay his head on the blue boy's chest, sobbing. "No, no, no, no," he said. He listened as the final breath left Phelan.

  Eron closed his eyes, unable to move. If the Forgotten wanted to kill him, he’d not fight back. Phelan’s betrayal cut deep. In his naivety, Eron trusted a stranger. This stranger saved him and helped him through so much and for what? To turn on him and try to kill him? It wasn’t right. None of what he’d experienced was right.

  Minutes later when he finally looked up, he saw the Forgotten. He expected him to attack. Instead, he pointed towards the end of Eron's nightmare. Soon, if his will held out, he'd be at Victory Point. He looked down at Phelan's body and cried out.

  Behind him, the Forgotten roared and howled.

  CHAPTER 41

  Eron stumbled through the forest, unsure of where he was or where he needed to go. Nothing seemed right. Unrelenting pain accompanied him with each step. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt.

  Inside, he felt a deep dark pit beginning to grow. It threatened to overwhelm him if he wasn't careful. Guarding against this new threat would be almost impossible.

  What he'd experienced was horrific. He didn't know how long ago it had happened. Sunlight still shone through the trees; it couldn't have been that long ago.

  "Phelan, which way do we go?" he said out loud, then realized what he'd done. The pit widened. His head throbbed as though threatening to implode. Dried blood crusted his face and shirt. He tried to wipe it off, but without water it was a useless gesture.

  He wondered how much more he could take. It seemed that he had nothing left, yet there was so far to go. The will to fight, the strength to endure was almost completely drained from him.

  It was difficult to see anything with his eyes nearly swollen shut, but he thought there was an opening in the dense forest. When he approached the clearing, it turned out to be a stream cutting the land in half. He stumbled towards the stream and fell on his knees at the water's edge.

  The swift red water flowed left to right. It looked wonderful as though it carried the secret to life itself. Dipping his hands in the cool water, he splashed it on his face. He rinsed much of the blood away. Then he bent
over, almost falling in, and drank. The cool water soothed his parched throat. A cold sensation trailed down his throat into his aching stomach.

  When he drank his fill, he rolled over on his back and gazed up at the trees above. The sun was low in the sky and darkness would be on him soon. He decided to stay where he was for the night, fearing what other dangers still lay in wait.

  He tried to process what he'd been through.

  What happened to Phelan? The betrayal was devastating. His friend turning on him was a torture he didn't see coming. Why did he try to kill him? Weren't they friends? Weren't they helping each other to survive the Selection so they'd live long lives, each with a new bride and children and everything else that came with it?

  The look in Phelan's eyes was powerful. He meant what he said. Every word he screamed at Eron was hurtful and Phelan believed what he was saying. Did they teach that at Greater Manthus? Is that how they prepared their boys for the Selection? Get them to befriend someone, only to turn on them in the end?

  "Why? Why did you do this, Phelan?" Eron said. His body convulsed as he sobbed. The movement hurt immensely, but it couldn't be stopped. He almost thought death would be a welcome escape from dealing with the realities he'd faced.

  Why did Phelan turn on him like that? Was he really unworthy of living? Was he truly what Bello and Phelan said he was, a weak coward?

  The soothing sounds of the flowing stream interrupted his train of thought. He welcomed the reprieve and let the sounds flow away with the current. Throbbing pain pulsated throughout his body.

  When he awoke, Eron was completely disoriented. "Phelan," he said, "where are we?" Then he heard the rushing stream and all the events of the last days crashed over him. The pit inside grew larger still.

  "How long was I out?" he said. No one answered. Standing was difficult, but he made it through the pain, though barely.

  He thought he heard the snarl of craates. "Oh no," he said. He had no weapon, no strength, and hardly any will to fight left.

  The snarl was cut off. Eron waited, but there was nothing.

  A black figure scurried away from the direction of the sound. It didn’t hide, standing in the open several meters away.

  "The Forgotten," he said. He remembered it screaming at him to leave after saving him from Phelan.

  Eron felt the pit inside grow again at the thought of Phelan.

  Why is he following me?

  For the moment, the Forgotten seemed content to leave him alone and he was grateful for that bit of luck.

  "Kill me if you want! I don't have the strength to fight."

  The Forgotten howled and raised an arm, pointing towards the south and Victory Point. He wasn't sure if he should be afraid or thankful for it.

  CHAPTER 42

  Eron travelled south through the woods along a barely visible path. Despite being beaten badly and his slow gait, he made decent time. Now and again, the Forgotten revealed himself, always pointing south. He didn't seem threatening any longer. Eron felt comforted by his presence, as though the Forgotten was a long-lost friend.

  Eron's legs ached. He stopped, leaning on a tree. The Forgotten startled him.

  "Why don't you go?" he said, making Eron jump and almost fall.

  "Please, I mean no harm. I'm working my way south," Eron said, covering his head with his arms. The Forgotten was taller than him and covered in thick black hair.

  "Why do you stay here? You must go. Soon you won't be able to leave. You'll be like me. You can be better."

  The Forgotten’s clear speech contrasted with his frightening presence. He should be afraid. But for some reason, the Forgotten didn't seem terrifying. It was as though he knew Eron.

  "You have a day left. No more. After that, you will become like me. I don't want that for you," he said.

  Eron tilted his head and squinted. "Why would you care what I become? Is it a territorial thing?" Whatever reservations Eron had about the Forgotten seemed wrong.

  "You need to hurry. You have some distance to go, but must not be late. Being late is," he lowered his head, "bad. Don't be late."

  As ferocious as the beast could be, his concern for Eron was unexpected and awkward, as if any moment the thing would snap and attack Eron, revealing his true nature.

  Just like Phelan.

  "Who are you? What is your name? Why do you care what happens to me?" Eron said.

  The Forgotten reached out to a couple small trees nearby and shook them, howling. "I said keep going! Don't wait here long. There's only so much I can do for you!" He stared at Eron for a moment, then ran into the forest, leaving the boy completely confused.

  "Why won't he attack me? He wants to talk? I need to get out of here before I lose the rest of my mind," Eron said aloud. He shook his head as if that would fix everything and proceeded south.

  He didn't see the Forgotten for quite a while after, but he knew he was near. Eron heard growling and yelping in the distance, and then came across dead craates in his path, blood still oozing from their snouts.

  Near sunset, he reached the edge of the forest and a powerful feeling of anxiety and relief came over him.

  A plain of orange and red grass separated by a wide path spread out before him. At the far end of the plain stood a tall stone wall with a gate in the middle.

  The end.

  His final step along the Selection.

  As he stepped out of the forest, the Forgotten raced up behind him. As Eron turned, his ribs and entire body rocked with pain. There was nothing he could do to defend himself from the Forgotten. It would be one last terrible fight. All the progress he'd made, all the terrible things he did to get to this point, only to be wiped away by the Forgotten.

  It was the last betrayal he'd endure.

  "What do you want?" Eron said. He held his hands out. His arms shook and he could barely stand straight.

  The Forgotten pulled up short. "I'm not going to harm you. I wanted to say goodbye. This will be the last time we ever see each other."

  Eron dropped his fists. "What are you talking about? Who are you? Why are you talking to me like this?"

  "Eron," he said. Eron stepped back.

  "How do you know my name? Did you hear the blue boy call me that?"

  "Eron, you know me. Look inside you. You know who I am. I've been tracking you ever since you started your journey from Rippon. Do you remember we met in the valley? I've been watching you."

  Eron stepped back again. "Stay away from me! Why are you doing this? All I want to do is get through that gate and be done with this forever."

  "You will. You'll make it, Eron. Not like me. I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough. But you are. You did the right thing. You cared for others, Eron; you worked with strangers. Maybe that's what will change things. I don't know. I've been gone too long. But you're special, Eron; you aren't weak like I was. Or like Bello or the blue one. They were weak. Your strength-caring for others-carried you through all this."

  Something about the Forgotten's voice sounded familiar. When he wasn't howling at Eron, he sounded so different.

  "Timo?" Eron said, ashamed the moment he did. His brother died a long time ago.

  The Forgotten closed his eyes and lowered his head. "I was once," he said. "It's not my name now. I'm too far gone. I'm part of the forest. That name was my old name from my old home. This is my home now. This is where I fight to survive every day."

  Inside, Eron felt a flood of emotions overwhelm him. His brother was alive! He was here! He could leave with him!

  "Timo! Come with me! We can go together!"

  Timo howled. Eron raised his hands to his ears to block the frightening sound.

  "I cannot leave, Eron. This is my place now. The Selection is wrong, Eron. You know it. Everything is wrong. But I can't do anything about it now. I did my part by making sure you lived. You can do something. You care for others. Your instinct isn't to kill; it's to care."

  "I thought you were de
ad, Timo! For years, your screams have haunted me. Now, I find you alive? This is wonderful. Mom will want to know."

  Timo raised a dark hairy paw.

  "She will know nothing. You'll never be allowed to speak to her again. They're ruthless, Eron. They care only about covering their tracks and making sure you fall in line."

  "What do you mean, I'll never talk to her again? I don't understand."

  "You must go, Eron. Time is running short for you. This is my place now, not yours. Be well, brother. You can change this. All of it."

  Timo pointed towards the gate and stood for several minutes. Then he howled a fierce, piercing sound and ran back to the forest.

  Suddenly Eron's memory returned. Rippon. Classes on Selection survival. The genetic mutation caused by a virus on the new planet, allowing male overpopulation. The other colonies, offshoots of the original. Everything he'd been fighting in his mind came back. It was as if Timo's presence tripped a switch that turned his thoughts back on. The haze which covered everything lifted and a clarity he hadn't known since Timo's disappearance returned.

  "Timo, come back! Timo!" He started for the forest, ignoring the gate behind him. "Timo, please don't leave!"

  CHAPTER 43

  Eron considered running after his brother, but doing so would mean no Mina. No new life. No escape from the Selection. He watched as Timo ran away.

  "Be well, brother. I will miss you," he said.

  Eron marched toward the large stone gate of Victory Point and the end of his ordeal. Soldiers stood along the stone wall with their weapons drawn on him.

  Was he too late? Were they going to shoot him? He shuffled faster, wanting to make it past the guns and through the gate before anything changed. The packed dirt crunched under his feet. When he came to the gate, he paused, taking a long look back the way he came. The forest looked serene, but he knew the horrors lurking within. Dead bodies of those he knew and trusted were back there. Bodies of boys who tried to harm him, in fact did harm him, lay back there. Never again would he have to face those terrors.