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“Because people are stupid,” Callie hisses. “People do what’s easy. They do what they know. Look at all the families who line up on the wedding day with smiles on their faces while their children marry strangers. No one’s going to risk their necks for change. ”
I take the small vial from her hand. The liquid inside is a dark purplish-red color. The color of an old bruise. Ancient blood. Callie rests her hand over mine. Her fingers are cold and wiry. “Think about the end result, Ivy. Once this is over, we’ll have the power. And you can do what you want. Work at an important job. Get married again to someone you choose. It’ll all be different. ”
I look into her dark eyes. “What if he’s the one I would choose?” I ask. “If I had the choice?”
Callie rolls her eyes. “Give me a break. If you had it to do over, you’d still want to get married at sixteen? Have all your decisions made for you?”
She’s right, of course. No matter what I feel for Bishop, I wish I wasn’t married. That the government hadn’t forced us into it before we were ready. “No,” I say. “I don’t want to be married. Not now. Not yet. ”
But someday, I would still want it to be him.
“See?” Callie’s eyes spark to life. “That’s what I’m talking about. We’ll have choices once Dad’s in charge. It’ll all be worth it. ”
“If Dad wants people to have choices, then why is he stepping into President Lattimer’s place? How is that a democracy? Shouldn’t we let people vote the way they used to?”
Callie’s face tightens. “So now that we’re down to the end, you suddenly have a million doubts? Dad does want a democracy, but there’s no one else better prepared to run Westfall, and you know it. After he has things back to the way they should be, then we’ll think about voting. One step at a time, Ivy. And right now we’re at your step in the plan. ”
The vial in my palm burns against my skin. How do you measure the life of one person against the greater good? Can it ever be the right thing to sacrifice an innocent person? And how do you know what the greater good really is? None of us is being tortured. No one is starving or sold into slavery. So is it worth killing someone to make it better? What if that death results in saving the futures of countless girls? Gives thousands of people back their free will? In the end, the answer to all those questions doesn’t matter, though. Because I’m not capable of what she’s asking me to do.
I can’t kill him. I won’t.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask her. “What happens with President Lattimer?”
Callie stares at me for a long time before she speaks. “Once Bishop is dead, we’ll move in to take control of the guns while President Lattimer is grieving. His death will come after that. Once people see he can’t even ensure their safety, can’t keep control of his own weapons, they’ll be a lot more likely to embrace us. ”
“So he’s going to have to suffer through the death of his son,” I say slowly.
“Yes. ”
I nod. “Is that part of Dad’s plan, too? Making sure President Lattimer loses someone he loves, the same way we lost Mom?”
“Yes,” Callie repeats. “And it feels like justice to me. ”
I close my eyes. All along I’ve been motivated by a desire to see things change. To give people a voice in their government, a say in their own lives. And I still believe my father would be a better leader than President Lattimer. But now I fear he may have been motivated by vengeance, the desire to watch President Lattimer suffer the loss of his son, while my father stands back and relishes the pain. “How are you going to kill President Lattimer?” I ask. “Isn’t everything already set in motion?”
“Not exactly,” Callie admits after a pause. “It will be once Bishop is dead. ”
“Then why was there a timeline? Why…” My voice fades into nothing as I finally understand. “It was a test, wasn’t it? You were testing me?”
“It wasn’t a test, exactly,” Callie says, and has the decency to look at least slightly uncomfortable. “But we couldn’t have you dragging your feet. We always knew this would be hard for you, Ivy. We couldn’t afford to wait forever. But you did great, finding the guns and the codes. Better than we ever hoped. Now there’s just one thing left for you to do. ”
I bark out a laugh. If only she knew the code I gave our father was wrong. “When?” I ask, holding up the bottle.
“The exact timing is up to you, so long as it’s in the next week. ”
That doesn’t give me much time. “What about Mrs. Lattimer?” I ask.
“She’ll be irrelevant once they’re dead,” Callie says. “We’re not wasting energy on her. ”
I have no illusions about the relationship between Erin Lattimer and me. It is not made up of warm, fuzzy emotions on either side. But my heart still breaks a little imagining her left behind, husband and son both dead. Her entire world destroyed in the blink of an eye. The very indifference to her suffering an especially vile form of cruelty.
“Our family has waited years to be back in power,” Callie continues. “And no one is going to take it away from us. ”
“Power over what? A bunch of scared people who are trying to pretend the world hasn’t changed? Everyone too terrified to even ask what else is out there? This little patch of land with ten thousand people, that’s what we’re fighting over?” I look out across the park, try to imagine what lies beyond this tiny bit of earth we all claim like it’s the only scrap left. Maybe it is. But we don’t know that for sure. “Is it worth it?” I ask.
“Of course it’s worth it!” Callie exclaims. “This is all there is. And it’s supposed to be ours. A Westfall founded this place and a Westfall should be in charge. ”
That doesn’t sound much like democracy to me. I put the vial into my bag. “Good-bye, Callie,” I say. I grab her and hug her hard before she can protest or push me away. After everything, she is still my sister. I still love her. And I always will. But I realize now that Callie and my father have been holding me down my entire life, never allowing me the freedom of my own thoughts or actions for fear they would differ from their own desires. They are not so different from President Lattimer.
