Dead World

CHAPTER 3

Anna lifted her head and stared at Roman’s retreating figure. He turned at the last minute, expression like granite.

The bastard had rigged the lottery!

Consumed by anger, she raised her arm and was about to shout out when someone grabbed her wrist.

“Not like this.”

Anna spun around to see Mother Charles standing in front of her. “Let go of me. You don’t know what’s happened.”

Mother Charles nodded. “I can guess. You’ve broken it off with him.”

Anna’s eyes opened wide and she looked around. “Please keep your voice down. What if someone were to overhear you?”

“This is your daughter we’re talking about now. You must listen to me.”

“You can’t keep saying these things.” Anna shook her head. She grabbed the old woman’s hand and tried to lead her inside, but Mother Charles held back, a stubborn expression on her face. “You won’t be satisfied until you’ve got us all in trouble, will you?”

Mother Charles raised her chin in defiance.

“Very well. If I promise to listen, will you come inside with me? Please? People are beginning to stare. Come on. Let me walk you to your room.”

Mother Charles grinned, looped her arm through Anna’s, and shuffled towards the building’s entrance.

Back in Mother Charles’ room, Anna settled the old woman in her rocker, then she sat on the edge of the tiny, single bed.

“From the moment we met, you treated me like a daughter. You were like a mother to me. Having lost my own to the lottery, I appreciated that. That’s why I now feel so sad. Why are you doing this to me? Why are you saying these things?” Anna paused as she gathered her thoughts. “Some say you are losing your grasp on reality. Your own son believes this. Then again, he rarely spends time with either one of us, does he, so how would he distinguish if you’re in your right mind?”

“I hate to say this, but my son is blind; however, you can’t afford to be. There is only one God, Anna. You must save Lucy. The piece of paper in your pocket…what does it say?”

Anna’s hand instinctively went to her pocket where she fingered the piece of paper. She shook her head. “You know what it says. Lucy’s name.”

“I’m old enough and wise enough to recognise a lie. Tell me the truth.”

Anna swallowed. “Roman. He fixed the lottery.”

Mother Charles nodded. “I guessed as much when I heard Lucy’s name being called. I take it you’ve broken off your affair.”

“You knew?”

“Of course I did. Unlike my son, I’m not blind.”

Anna’s throat went dry and she lowered her head in shame, tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

“Come now, you’re stronger than this. You’ll have to face him. You can’t let Lucy become one of the Chosen.”

“How? What can I do?”

“Whatever you must. Now go.” Mother Charles started rocking, staring off into space, and moving her lips as if in silent prayer.

Anna stood up, surprised to find her legs were weak. “I don’t know what I believe any more. But the one thing I am certain of is I love my daughter.”

Mother Charles rocked to and fro but didn’t reply, her eyes unfocused.

“Roman, please. You can’t do this.”

“Your daughter’s been chosen. Nothing I can do.”

Anna held out the piece of paper. Roman glanced at it indifferently.

“She wasn’t chosen. You rigged the drawing. I don’t understand why. We were never serious, so why? Why do this? If you want to choose someone, pick me.”

Candles spluttered around the church. Roman’s shadow loomed across the wall behind him as he stood behind the lectern, arms folded.

“And turn you from whore to martyr? I don’t think so. What I say goes, and as far as everyone is concerned, your beloved daughter is the chosen one. At least your husband’s happy about it.”

“Why? I deserve better than this. What has Lucy ever done to you? She’s the innocent one in all this.”

Roman clenched his jaw.

“Is this because I broke off the affair? Is that what this is all about?”

Roman stared at her. “If you’re finished, I’ve got tomorrow’s ceremony to prepare for.”

“Damn you. You can’t do this. If I meant anything to you at all, please, call it off.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset. You should be proud she was chosen.”

Anna pursed her lips. Most people would feel elated if they or a member of their family were chosen in the lottery, but Anna was torn. She recalled what Mother Charles had been spouting to her that there was only one true God, and to be honest, she had her doubts about the others. But such thoughts were heresy.

“Perhaps I should call your family in here and we’ll all discuss this.”

Anna bunched her fists. “Please. Call it off.”

Roman shook his head. “Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

“To hell with your work. This is my daughter. I won’t let you do this.”

“Really? Then perhaps you’d like to explain everything to the residents and your family.”

Anna threw her hands in the air, but knowing continuing to argue was futile, she stamped out of the church.

“I know it’s not how the lottery is done,” Isaiah said, “but it’s an honour to be chosen.”

“Yes, but only when you’re old enough. Lucy’s a child.” Anna sat on the edge of the bed and looked across at her husband. Lucy, Zeke and Ben sat on their bunks.

“But mum,” Lucy said, “I want to go.”

Anna fingered the piece of paper in her hand that read, Martin Wainwright. “I don’t trust Roman Quail.” She paused, drew in a deep breath. “Neither does your mother.”

Isaiah chuckled. “My mother’s old, Anna. We discussed this already. She’s not in her right mind. As for Roman, he’s a man of the cloth, an emissary of the Gods. Of course you can trust him. Why would you even think otherwise?”

“How did Lucy’s name get put in the lottery?”

Isaiah shrugged. “Destiny.”

“That’s crap.” Anna started to open the piece of paper. Isaiah noticed, and moved to reach for it.

“What’s that?”

Anna leaned back, cupping the piece of paper in her hands. “It’s… a…” She glanced across at her daughter.

Ben jumped down. “Well I wish it was me who was chosen.”

“Don’t ever say that, Ben. It’s not an honour it’s… it’s… wrong,” Anna shouted.

Ben flinched back.

Isaiah stared at her with wide eyes. “This is our way, Anna. You know that. I can’t fathom what’s come over you. First the things you said to me earlier, and now this. I know it’s not the way the lottery usually works, but we have to abide by the law. Of course I’m sad, but she’ll be going to a better place. She’ll become an immortal.” He turned to Lucy. “Sweetheart, you can wear your Sunday best. You’ll be beautiful.”

Anna stood up, glanced at the piece of paper in her hand and then marched out of the cell. She saw Zeke staring at her, indecision marring his features.

Anna knelt in the small church, alone. Most of the candles were burnt out and the room was cold, making her shiver. Tears streaked her cheeks and she studied the piece of paper in her hands. It looked so innocent, but she knew it possessed the power to change lives. If she told Isaiah the truth then her secret would tear their family apart and she would be an outcast. She couldn’t bear for that to happen. Gritting her teeth, she dipped the edge of the paper into the nearest candle and watched as the small flame took hold. The heat travelled up to her fingers and she held the paper for a moment too long, wincing as the flame burnt her skin.

The candlelight cast shadows across her body. She stood, heard what sounded like the scuffling of feet. She peered towards the shadows but couldn’t see anything and then hurried out of the room.

Roman watched as Anna left and then stepped out from an alcove. He walked across and stared down at the piece of paper she had dropped. Most of it had burned away, but he could make out a few words written on it and he ground what was left beneath his heel. As figurehead for the church he couldn’t have his position undermined. Anna needed to realise her place. Everybody had to know their place. Without order there was only anarchy. Their community was small and insular. Everybody knew everybody and even the smallest incident might trigger dissension. If word of his relationship with Anna ever came out, it would light the fuse. He had a duty to uphold. Anna needed to know her place. She had to recognise who wielded the power.

He blew out the candles and navigated a well worn path in the dark to his bedchamber.