THE CULL

by Steven Beeho

Marcus typed his code into his computer as he drank his morning coffee, then accessed the letterbox. He looked over the deliveries made, then saw one addressed to Kim with the red sickle emblem. His hand trembled yet before he had made a conscious decision he opened the letter, then leapt to the air with a roar of delight.

    “What is it? What are you doing, you madman?” his appearing wife demanded to know.

    “Call Kim! Call Kim!” Marcus jabbered.

    “I’m late for work, you do it, you know where she is.”

    In moments Marcus was rushing through the garden in his dressing gown, then bursting into the small, square structure. In the centre of the room stood his daughter, frozen in a pose with sword extended as she focused her mind.

    “Kim, you’ve been accepted, you’re in the next cull,” Marcus declared with red-faced ecstasy. Kim gave a slow smile.

                                                                     #

    “What’s this?” spat Jason as he opened the letter before scowling, whitening a little but still more annoyed than scared. “Father! Mother! Come here, it’s happened again!” Swiftly, if not fast enough for Jason, his parents arrived and he pointed at the screen. “They’ve picked me again, this isn’t fair.”

    “It is a random selection,” his father reminded him in a tired voice. “Anyway, it isn’t as if you have to go, we’ll simply arrange…”

    “Wait,” cut in Jason’s mother, sharp look on the letter. “This is Jason’s third call, twice we’ve found a substitute and avoided discovery, but a third time? The punishment for not performing our duty is worse than the cull itself, we cannot take the risk.”

    “You mean… I have to go?” Now Jason was pale, his scowl long gone.

                                                                     #

    The dark alleys were lit with low fires that fluttered in the occasional cold wind, while the huddled figures did not move or speak, as if by ignoring each other they could ignore their environment. But then they stirred as a humming globe of metal floated over their heads, and from its sides it projected a list, all knew what for, and several now stood.

    “Lots of us,” a voice remarked from the still seated figures.

    “Always are,” replied a man who stood, scratching his back, then he reached into his blanket that lay on the ground and rose with a short-handled sledgehammer in one hand and a hefty hatchet in the other. “They have to keep the unwanted as few as possible, it might be a random selection but there’s always been ways to increase the odds.”

    “That’s the point, Horace. Remember, prove your worth.”

    “I’ve proven it all my life surviving out here and I’ve done it five times in the arena, if you get any money put it on me.” That stated with a snarl, Horace rested his weapons on his shoulders and stomped away.

                                                                     #

    The cull was the only way out. There were too many people, living for too long, no more wars, no more diseases, no more disasters. It was a controlled paradise and it threatened existence; if the human race was to survive, someone once famously said, it had to lose weight. Some said the old should go, others the crippled, any burden on society was sought yet most objected to such vindictive ideas. In the end it had to be random, a choice of all.

    The effect was amazing. No one wanted to die and as there was no escape from being picked people began to train, becoming habitual warriors without a war and becoming fitter and healthier, easing the strain on health services, and more, giving an outlet for people’s rage, burning up the energy of the young, creating a purpose for each individual. No longer did people dream of adventure, being ready for the cull was what mattered, in time there were no celebrities, gossip was pointless, when substance was vital even leaders forgot about image and got on with their jobs.

    And the effect continued. The human race was invigorated, they were all equal before the cull and, as people became better at it, they had to improve even more to succeed, constantly striving to new heights. Also, in this truer spirit, they were able to make needed changes to the selection, allowing those in vital work (police, doctors, teachers) to be exempt whilst serving society. No longer did men and women everywhere hone their bodies and minds only for fighting, they strove in every way they could, for better jobs or simply to be better. Everyone wanted to earn their place in the human race.

    Of course, the cull took the lives of millions over the centuries.

                                                                     #

    “My grandfather would be so proud,” Marcus declared as he watched Kim train. “He volunteered, one of those to do so when it was first offered, and others were so impressed he was promoted and given our home here.” He munched on his apple with a grin.

    “I know, you told me when I was four,” Kim responded, only slightly breathless. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

    “When I told my boss about you he let me have the day off so I can help you train,” answered Marcus with a shrug. “He’s probably putting the company’s stocks on you right now.”

    “Wise move,” admitted Kim.

    She continued to train in the building erected by her great-grandfather, weapons and equipment on the walls around them. Marcus had to admit he still wished she had been born a son and so inherit the large, powerful physique that had enabled his family to succeed in culls throughout their generations. But then she was tall and strong with stamina to match him in his prime, and her speed and agility were features he envied. Maybe then he would have fewer scars for his wife to complain about.

    “Aren’t you going to practice with another weapon?” Marcus wondered.

    “I need only one and I know this best of all,” Kim told him. The sword she wielded was long, light and thin, it blurred about her as she moved. Marcus agreed it was a good match.

    “Still, what if it breaks, you need a back-up?”

    “If I need a weapon I will take my opponent’s.” Marcus had to laugh.

    “That’s Grandfather talk, although I did that once, and I’m pretty sure I ripped the man’s arm off.” Marcus grinned slyly. “I’m sure you’re relieved I wasn’t picked or volunteered for this cull.”

    “We’ve sparred too often for me not to know how to defeat you,” Kim countered, a slight smile on her face too but hidden from him.

    “Ha!” Marcus stood from the bench and took a mace from the wall. “Do you think I didn’t learn either? Come on, enough of your fancy dancing, let me remind you how to endure pain.”

    He charged, hurled his apple so his daughter had to duck, then swung for her.

                                                                     #

    The cull produced many good results in humanity but it couldn’t cure it. Changes came for the better, people sought to exceed themselves, yet there were always those who sought to avoid instead and changes could help them with certain jobs being handed out for certain reasons. Nothing could save someone for good, for that reason the exploitation of loopholes was more a nuisance than an outrage, but some could do more than others and money, the ancient greaser of palms, was always an advantage, especially over those without.

    The cull demanded deaths so as long as someone turned up it wasn’t vital they were whoever they claimed to be. With so many being called there couldn’t be detailed checks, if the I.D. was correct it was enough, and if that person wasn’t wealthy or connected but really a penniless delinquent all the better for society surely. Due to principle this crime would be punished if caught, yet there was no need to waste time and effort seeking it.

    Crime itself was less, as were other negative aspects of civilisation. People needed disciplined training to succeed so that helped, the pursuit of a focused mind even ended pornography through poor sales, and while criminals could be deadlier than ever, so could their victims and crime was about preying on the weak, not brutal combat. It could have been made punishable by automatic death to help lessen numbers but again there had been objections concerning the unreliability of law courts, instead it had become a mark against your name and a disadvantage in the cull. However, that too could be altered.

                                                                     #

    Jason bit at his nail as he waited. He knew what was really going on, his parents had decided he wasn’t worth saving, they might say otherwise but they could protect him if they really wanted to. Ever since his younger brother had clinched that high profile job his parents had clearly changed their priority, what better way to ensure their new favourite inherited their assets than to let him die in the cull. But he wouldn’t, he could survive without them, he was smart and he knew people, people they didn’t.

    “Jason, why are you here?”

    “At last!” Jason hissed, rising and moving to the woman who had just entered the room. “I’m in the cull and I need your help,” he said so quickly it took her a second to understand. “They won’t put in a substitute, maybe they’re right about that, anyway I don’t trust them not to tell. So if I’m going in I won’t go in alone. I need you to find someone in the cull who’d accept the idea and put a substitute in for them.” The woman couldn’t follow most of this but she took in the last words only to frown at them.

    “How does subbing someone else help you, and who do I put in instead?”

    “It helps because I’ve got the person lined up,” Jason said in a low, fierce voice, grinning too, and she had to nod at the deviousness of the idea. She nodded again, agreeing to the plan, and they quickly parted ways, Jason leaving the building and entering his car. He typed his destination in before sitting back as the vehicle slid from the car park via the launch tube and merged with the bustling array of craft over the city. “It’s done, you’re in,” Jason revealed to the man next to him.

    “Can’t wait,” came the gleeful reply. “So this way they won’t know who I am and I can fight like I like?”

    “You’ll be able to protect me,” corrected Jason.

    “Which I’ll do by killing people, fine by me.” The man’s carefree shrug only annoyed Jason more.

    “This is a risk for us both, Ieuan, and if I don’t come out alive your chances of discovery increase, don’t forget that. Also, we’ll have some advantages thanks to me.”

    “Not too many, let’s not take the fun out of it.” There was a moment of silence as both regarded the fact neither would take the other’s view yet they needed each other, then Ieuan spoke. “I’m grateful you’re getting me into the cull, it’s the only time I can kill freely, but you should show some appreciation of me too. To be blunt, don’t talk to me like that or I’ll gut you open, here, the arena, I don’t care. You remember that.”

    Jason nearly didn’t stop himself from muttering back.

                                                                     #

    While the cull had lessened the population so the threat to the world was no longer looming, it didn’t go away and kept the cull necessary. The human race continued growing, little by little only, but after the initial dips people felt it was alright to have lots of kids again and also that you needed a fair few to ensure one would grow up to inherit your life’s achievements. After all, while none could be chosen until sixteen, parents lasted a lot longer.

    However the problems came when children prevailed and parents had too little to hand out to too many. But, as ever, humanity found a use for unwanted individuals and some were paid into becoming substitutes, others taking brief work testing the cull or becoming another’s expendable training partner. In time such acquisitions were sought after, yet most people were now choosing to have fewer children, doing all they could to prepare them to survive and succeed rather than waste their offspring.

    Not all were though. There were always the poor and destitute, there was never enough for everyone, and they now saw a way to make money. Surplus children became the secret trend, after the first few born couples continued and then sold their babies to those with the money and need for disposable individuals. Raised as adopted children they were there only to help the true heirs train or be replacements in culls, and if they did too well they were ejected before they could reap their reward. A few did however, it was believed they were the first to establish care centres specifically for surplus children as, with greed causing supply to outweigh demand, more and more were cast out to raise themselves. But certain others added their wealth too; a trained surplus population offered better options than individual upbringings. The centres paid for the children delivered to them, prepared them, then gave them to society, and information about each was dispersed to those who sought it.

    Now the world had more than its fair share of unwanted, a harvest for those above to pick from, use and, if they lasted, brush off. There was only basic training for such as these, little equipment, no proud past or glorious future, but existence was a constant struggle and that brought lessons of its own.

                                                                     #

    Horace stopped as the guard confronted him and he clicked his fingers three times before the door’s computer beeped, receiving the signal, and the screen displayed his identity. The other guard nodded but the first stood her ground.

    “The cull doesn’t begin for another two days, come back then,” she barked. Horace looked past her at the screen, from here he could make out the all-important word: UNWANTED.

    “I’ve nowhere else to go,” he told her with a shrug yet also a steady look. “Here I’ll get decent meals, so I’ll wait.” He could barge past, he was allowed in, but later was the time for enemies. She now grinned.

    “Well you are a bit scrawny,” she declared, although he could see in her face that she was noticing how wiry his form was rather than skinny, muscle and sinew instead of bones showing beneath his skin. “Tell you what, I could have a word with someone and get you double portions if…”

    “I don’t want to get fat,” cut in Horace and now did move past her, and the other guard, through the opening portal and into the way-station. There were few here and these were all unwanted individuals too, who else would turn up early for death? Horace went to one of the long tables and put his weapons down before looking over the menu, touching his meal, then waiting the short time for the tray to rise from the opening. He began to eat, it was bland and barely cooked, the best he had had in a long time. He looked around as he ate, there was a grim resignation about those here, they knew how to fight and could endure hardship but were the least prepared of all called and so the most likely to die.

    Then someone rose from a bunk, stretched, looked around and saw the new face of Horace before taking up an iron-strapped club and strolling to him. Horace knew why he came, he saw the man’s face and knew they shared the same look; grim determination. The man sat down and ordered his food, club resting on the table too. He wasn’t big but broad-shouldered with large hands, Horace was sure he could wield the weapon with ease.

    “Get in early and get ready first,” Horace noted, which the other man grinned at.

    “That’s the plan,” he confirmed, then thumbed to himself. “Luke, twice survivor.”

    “Horace, five times.”

    “Wow, you must be good. Been trained by better than the state centres?”

    “I was hired by a rich family once and learnt a few skills but that’s all, I wasn’t about for long.” Horace grinned in a nasty way. “A sparring match with the eldest daughter didn’t go as they planned.”

    “So you’ve a natural talent for this, always useful.”

    “When you’re unwanted you fight or you waste away.”

    “Isn’t that true?” agreed Luke with a scowl, only to suddenly smile. “You know, I get a certain liking when the cull comes up, it’s when you and me get to meet our betters and show them what our worth is.”

    “It’s the highlight of my life,” Horace declared with a laugh.

                                                                     #

    The cull was as simple as it was deadly.

    Those called gathered at way-stations before the time appointed or were hunted down.

    From around the world they were transported to the three arenas, the artificial islands in the Atlantic, Indian and Pacific Oceans.

    At the five entrances they were armed, if not already carrying, and had the arena explained.

    They were sent out a group at a time, filtering through the winding tunnels as they raced, choosing which of the outlets to leave from.

    There was all manner of terrain to cross, some more hostile than others.

    The destination was the very centre of the arena, the exit, but one that would accept only so many.

    To reach it wasn’t just a matter of speed, certain stages had to be passed and these wouldn’t allow it until the numbers within had been reduced.

    There was no form of sustenance in the arena, nowhere to hide, and by now too many accepted the idea of the cull to hold back.

    The cull worked. Only a few would survive. They would be the best because only such could succeed, and humanity would be better for it.

                                                                     #

    Kim dropped into the ditch, swept her sword through the surprised man’s neck before stabbing another in the heart. Three more were here, they had teamed up in this defensive position, except now there was no escape as she cut them down one by one. A few more successes like this and she would be out of here in record time.

    She pursued someone, a woman with weighted boots, a penalty for a crime in her past no doubt. Kim had trained so much for this, been listening to tales of her family’s successes all her life, only to find it wasn’t enough to be here. Her first kill hadn’t even made her blink; even now as she slaughtered the burdened woman she was already planning her next move. She had gone beyond the cull, her survival, these people; she had to excel, to rack up a score to make the world wonder, to be better than anyone, elsewhere or any other time.

    Her father had kissed her on the forehead as they parted yet looked her firmly in the eyes as he reminded her of the bloodline she came from. Her family had earned their place on this planet; they lived the ideal that the cull had inspired. They had survived too, that was why he was, and always had been, reminding her, but she had much to live up to. Yet no one expected more of her than herself, especially now. Her opponents had trained for this day yet many were struggling to face it, the screams, the blood, the intensity, it either made you or broke you. Kim thrived in it, this was the point to her existence, death was easy punishment if she failed now, and so she sliced through the undergrowth and into her rivals.

                                                                     #

    “The siren!” exclaimed Jason, looking up as the sound resounded across the rocky landscape. “We can go, come on.”

    “I’m not finished,” snarled Ieuan before burying his knife in the man’s stomach for the seventh time. “He’s bleeding too slowly.”

    “Then just kill him,” Jason snapped but received no reply, Ieuan had a habit of ignoring him when playing. But Jason had to duck as three figures rushed past, heading for the next stage, and he smiled. “No, let’s wait, they’re going nowhere until they’ve killed each other off a bit, we’ll come in late and go through easier.”

    “Yeah, we can pick on the tired and wounded then,” agreed Ieuan, sliding his blade across the throat before rolling the body away. He came and sat by Jason, looked from his bloodstained clothes to the merely splattered ones, and smiled. “How was she? Felt good to kill her I’ll bet, the relief, the power, the ecstasy. She was a big lass, she would have smashed you open if not for your secret weapons. Still, you killed her a good proper way, you drove that spike right through her. Well done.”

    Jason said nothing at the praise, despite Ieuan’s genuine admiration, only feel sick at the memory of the smell of death. Not the sight, not the sound, the foul odours that came from inside the rent body were what reached deep into him and squeezed his stomach. He wouldn’t be sick though, not before Ieuan and not here, he had to be strong just for a while and then he would be out. That was everything, he would kill again and again just to return home and resume his life, all the bile in his gut couldn’t hold him back.

                                                                     #

    Horace’s hammer caved the head in and his enemy tumbled down the hill before hitting a corpse and lying still. The gore-drenched unwanted raised his weapons to the sky and yelled in exultant fury before scanning his surroundings for more to take on.

    “Where are you, you pathetic bastards and bitches?” he bawled. “I’m still here, you don’t have to search and chase, I’m on this hill. Come and kill me, I’m certain to go on while you claw at each other, as long as I’m involved few of you will reach the end, kill me or die here.”

    Horace sat on the ground, hammer and hatchet resting on his shoulders. Despite the dead around his hill he wasn’t tired, he had put on weight at the way-station and had energy to burn, but more than that he felt galvanised, his entire being crackled as it responded to the cull. For him life was a fight, to find food, to earn some money, to secure shelter, you had to compete or be left to rot. The cull was just his life personified; here he could be all he could be, not only unrestrained by laws but encouraged to do whatever it took to prevail.

    There were times when he felt he belonged here.

    Four people appeared from hiding and one threw a knife yet Horace had spotted them already and let the blade fly past. They came up, two right for him, the others moving to outflank him, a trusty manoeuvre. Horace rose, then sprang left and bowled into the man there. They rolled, weapons flailed, then Horace was up and turning to face the oncoming three. The pair were closer yet as he charged one faltered in fear, then recoiled as he smashed her temporary colleague apart. The fourth arrived and they had the higher ground, but Horace instantly went for their feet and drove them back, chopping toes at one point, then tripping the other. He got the high ground, they couldn’t endure the power of his furious strikes, and soon he stood triumphant again.

                                                                     #

    Kim rested under the bridge, sword across her lap, recently cleaned. She had had to clean it several times already, so many had died at its touch and she needed her grip to be sure and tight. She was tired by now, she had come a long way quickly, this rest was needed, but it was also planned. The sky was dimmer as the day waned, the bright spire in the island’s centre was looming large, the end was near. One good rest was all she needed before carving through to the exit.

    She was still as she heard voices, two talking as they walked on. They sounded worn out but resolute, they had come too far to fail now. Kim picked up on mentions of kills at certain stages, the relief on their voices when they talked of a minefield, when suddenly one voice was cut off. After a while she saw just one figure pass her.

    Allying yourself with another seemed a smart move yet, apart from rare occasions, all were strangers and trust was a risk here. They were also rivals, none would help if you were in trouble and could turn if you were wounded, after all, it would add to the deaths to move them on. No, Kim knew she would never team up with another, it was enough to watch out for foes let alone watch your ‘comrade’, especially as there was no guarantee you would both escape, what if there was only one place left? Anyway, who could keep with her?

                                                                     #

    Jason pulled Ieuan back and ducked under the fist, fortunately an angry swipe and not an intended hit.

    “It’s this way, look,” he stated, tapping the map he held, a crude paper drawing he had had smuggled in.

    “You sure?” grumbled Ieuan. “I know of these tunnels, shorter yes but you get lost in here and it’s gas and goodnight.”

    “My source is reliable, we’ll be out soon and ahead of the rest,” Jason replied, adding quietly, “I trust this more than you.” Ieuan was to busy glaring at air vents to notice.

    They ran cautiously through the low tunnels, eerily silent and dark compared to above, when someone came round a corner.

    “Mine!” laughed Ieuan and chased his next victim, at least he intended to but this one stood his ground. Ieuan still tried to get his kill, whirling his chain and slashing with his knife, but the other was well trained, blocking, dodging, probing. Jason hung back, no one else was around and he looked over his map again, then looked up as he heard Ieuan yell. He had fallen, or been tripped, unhurt and angry yet at the mercy of his foe. Jason was about to lose his bodyguard, and no doubt die next.

    He took a thin dart from his sleeve and flung it in the manner he had practiced religiously before coming here. It caught the man in the back of the neck and he turned with a glare, also a frown. Weapons had to be hand-to-hand, you had to see the light fade from your victim’s eyes, not simply kill from distance, and while you could hurl if possible, the man knew he hadn’t been hit an orthodox blow. Yet he staggered, frowning more, then chain wrapped round his leg to trip him before Ieuan pounced.

    “Thanks for that,” he chortled as he hacked into face and throat.

                                                                     #

    Horace reached up the cliff-face, felt a ridge and gripped it to pull himself further up, finding a foothold too. It was hard work with his weapons tied to his back and adding to his weight, but this was a more direct route and he needed to catch up, he had spent too long fighting and not enough running, he forgot about that part of the cull at times. He didn’t have a choice by now anyway, it was much further down than up and he could see two others well below him trying the same tactic. He continued on, climbing not just with all his strength but as fast as he could, ignoring pain as he scratched his skin open on rock or stretched his limbs as he strove for holds.

    He noted movement on the cliff-top but carried on, pretending not to have seen anything, he was already expecting someone to greet him there due to three bodies on the ground below, each battered from the fall yet with severe and precise wounds in the head. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when at the top, but he would reach there eventually, no matter who was there, or how many, he had chosen his course and none could stop him.

    Horace grabbed the edge of the cliff and hauled himself up, then let go and dropped. He fell only briefly, catching an outcrop and wedging his foot in a crack, and when the axe came down to where he had been it rebounded off stone with a clang, followed by a grunt of pain from the wielder, then a cry of surprise that became a wail. It continued all the way until the dull thump and Horace let the axe fall from his grasp, then climbed up, yet as he did the siren sounded, that death the last one needed for this stage. Now Horace stood, taking his weapons from his back, and before him the barrier deactivated, revealing the way ahead. There was the spire. This was the end.

                                                                     #

    Luke swung his club and ribs crunched, blood gushing from the mouth, then he punched to put his foe on the ground before finishing with a strike to the back of the head. Then he heard sound and turned but saw no one. He was edgy, the spire was near and people would be coming from all directions, each as desperate as himself to succeed when so close. He scanned all around when suddenly a man slammed into him.

    Jason came from the hatch to see Ieuan and Luke on the ground, punching and biting, unable to get a grip with both covered in blood. There was the spire, perhaps he could make it to the entrance while they fought, but he didn’t have the chance as Luke pushed Ieuan away. Both rose but Ieuan was quicker, his chain wrapped round Luke’s neck and he swung him into a tree. Yet Luke then grabbed it and pulled Ieuan into a headbutt, who spat blood in his eyes, then jumped and lifted himself into the branches. Laughing with frothing lips, Ieuan heaved Luke into the air as he kicked and clawed at the chain until he hung limp.

    “Hurry,” Jason urged as he ran past.

    “Hold on,” Ieuan snarled, dropping from the tree and panting in recovery as he unwound his chain. Yet he heard Jason cry out and turned to see him frozen in place, a young woman, maybe even a girl except she had a very mature look about her, standing before him with a sword in her hand. Ieuan was also puzzled to see how little blood was on her, enough to show she had been killing but she was obviously quick and clean at it. He grinned slyly. “Not scared of her, are you, Jason? Go on, you might as well kill one more before we leave.”

    Jason went for his knife but not because of Ieuan’s words, this girl scared him, she looked exactly like a snake waiting to strike, and it was fear that made him move. Her sword flicked out and slashed his hand so he dropped his weapon, yet he’d also taken out a small cylinder that he used to spray at her. She reeled but only stepped back a little, having dodged the main blast, then ducked and kicked out, toppling Jason hard.

    “Ieuan, help!” he screamed. “You need me to…”

    “Alright!” snapped the running criminal, whirling his chain above his head, when it caught on something and yanked him off his feet. He rolled as a hatchet swept down into the earth, came up on one knee and aimed a stab at a leg yet was avoided, then kicked but he hung on to the chain, wrapping it round his wrist, refusing to be beaten off.

    Kim rubbed her eyes, saw Jason rising, then lunged. His hand flicked out, she swayed to avoid the first dart, deflected the second with her sword, then jabbed the tip into Jason’s throat. Blood spilled down his front and in sheer panic Jason tried to catch it all in cupped hands, crumpling to his knees. Kim sneered; he was no longer a concern.

    Horace relaxed his grip on hammer and hatchet so they slid down before grasping them just below the heads, hafts now along his forearms. Ieuan had taken a barbed spike out to use along with his knife and when the pair clashed weapons moved in a flurry between them, chain linking them rattling as well. Horace blocked a swipe with his protected arm and punched out, only hammer hit chest rather than fist, before he lashed with hatchet yet could stop suddenly, then swing up, blade’s tip tearing through clothing and flesh. He boxed, he kept in close and jabbed away at Ieuan’s defences, then when Ieuan leapt back he heaved on the chain and dragged him back in. Yet he used this and shouldered into Horace, driving him back to one knee, then he pounced only the hammer shot out to meet him, Horace letting it slide up his arm this time to drive into bared teeth.

    Kim cut down one foe, then another, others being attracted to the conflict, then focused on the two men fighting, looking for an opening. She heard a noise but for some reason it didn’t trigger a response, somehow it didn’t matter, yet the fierce pair suddenly froze and looked past her. Kim span, Jason was still there and in one trembling hand he held a gleaming triangle, and she suddenly realised the sound had been the weapon powering up. It made no sense, such an act would be detected and he would be punished hideously, but then his lifespan was now mere seconds and revenge blazed in his eyes.

    The beam lanced out and sliced easily through a tree, if Jason’s vision wasn’t blurring Kim would have been dead, but now she ran. Jason followed her, the laser carving through the undergrowth around him, then across Ieuan as Horace shoved him in the way. Yet that was it, suddenly Jason was screaming and convulsing, eyes bulging and skin being flayed before his insides erupted, then he lay still.

    “That’s what cheaters get,” spat Horace as he stood over Ieuan, who was giggling as he looked at his near separated body, and still as he saw the hammer come down on his face.

    “Laser weapons aren’t in the cull,” Kim said softly. “Something happened outside the cull’s ways and I wasn’t ready.”

    “So you’re a purist,” noted Horace, looking her over. “That’s your kind’s flaw, you’re too focused.” Now she turned to him and extended her sword.

    “Agreed,” she conceded, to his surprise. Kim darted forward and drove her sword into the appearing woman’s heart, then ducked and punched the throat of the next foe. Horace hurled his hatchet and dispatched one man, then tripped another with the cut chain that still hung from his hammer and smashed his head in. He rolled to avoid a woman, who was then killed by another man, before diving into him. Kim sliced a man open and kicked someone into two more, who all stabbed each other.

    The siren went, the entrance opened, the fighters ceased, then sagged, most sinking to the ground and wiping their faces with bloodied hands. Kim moved first, the rest soon followed, a weary trickle, and they took their seats in the carriage, a few latecomers joining them, then it rose up through the spire into the air. As they flew, a screen showed scores.

    “I’ll guess that’s you at the top,” Horace said to Kim, who smiled with pride and nodded. “That’s impressive, all you need is to gather experience of the culls and you’ll be invincible.”

    “I need to learn some new lessons though,” Kim pointed out.

    “There’s always new lessons,” remarked Horace with bitterness. “Try living in my world and you’ll learn a lot quickly.”

    “Perhaps I shall.” This puzzled Horace. “Where are you on the scores?”

    “Just below you,” he revealed slyly. Kim studied the scores, then him. “You’ve done this six times?” Now it was his turn to nod and grin, when she gave an odd smile. “After we’re done, don’t leave. I have an offer for you.”

    “I don’t train with my betters,” Horace stated fiercely.

    “Fine, I don’t train with my lessers,” responded Kim. “But I think you’ll make a good father to my family’s next generation.”

                                                                     #

    There were many ways to prove your worth.