"Gregory, wake up," Tricia's quivering voice murmured as she ever so gently nudged me. In a state of half- consciousness I turned away from my new bride and buried my face in the soft pillow beside me. "Gregory!" she whispered just a bit louder with a sense of urgency. She nudged me again, and this time I fell off of the bed. My body hit the cold marble floor with a jolt. I immediately sat up and glowered at Tricia. Her delicately tiny hand over her mouth, she stifled a sheepish giggle. "Sorry," she uttered at last. As she removed her hand from her mouth, I noticed that the entirety of her grin had vanished. Remaining on the floor, I scrutinized her unfamiliar expression. Her pale blue eyes lacked the sparkle of excitement they usually contained, and her usually bubbly attitude seemed to have deflated like a balloon stripped of its helium.
"Tricia?" I cautiously inquired. "Is there something wrong?"
As she silently tilted her head towards the wall opposite the queen sized four poster bed, her strawberry blonde hair fell in front of her eyes. I moved to brush it off of her face, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed what she had leveled her eyes with. Opposite the bed was my thick black calendar. Simply designed, the tribe provided an identical calendar to every child on their 13th birthday. Meant to last ten years before being indubitably replaced, the calendars were color coded for effortless use. Holidays were red, the harvest was green, tax days were yellow, treaty renewals were blue, and silver… Well, that only appeared once on every calendar, for the drafts took place every ten years. On today's date, the calendar was colored silver.
After pulling myself up to sit on the bed, I reached out to Tricia and pulled her close to me. I relished every minute I possessed her in my arms, knowing it could very well be the last time I held her like this. 'The drafts are today' I numbly thought. I clutched her to my chest, and she lay her head softly on my shoulder.
Tricia pulled away slightly, but her arms remained entwined with mine. "Don't worry, Gregory," her uneven voice was barely a whisper, "there's only a small chance you'll be chosen." Even though I knew there was no truth behind her words, they comforted me nonetheless. In contrast to petite and delicate Tricia, I was known around town as the brawny man who worked the community farm. If they needed a soldier or a spy, the council was certain to select someone strong and able, and although I wished it weren't so, everybody knew that I was the evident choice.
As Tricia's wide blue eyes gazed into mine, she exuded an air of pure innocence, and I never wanted to leave her. Tears began welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them away with difficulty. I averted my eyes, for I could not bear to witness her in such a state. As I glanced over to the large grandfather clock in the corner and perceived the time, I reluctantly untangled myself from Tricia's flimsy grasp. "We're late for the Gathering," I spoke, my voice firm and emotionless as I swung my feet over the side of the bed to stand.
"Why don't we just stay here and miss it?" Tricia's pleading blue eyes gazed up into mine.
Her full red lips were slightly pouted, and I forced myself to look away. I knew that if I didn't, there would be nothing stopping me from fulfilling her request.
"You know that won't change anything," I sighed in defeat.
"You know, I've never wanted too much out of life," Tricia's voice was like glass; it was stiff, but it was brittle and I could see right through it. "My whole life," she continued, bitterness seeping out through the cracks of the now broken glass that was her voice, "I've been content with living on this god awful island. I never asked for anything, and I did what I was told. Sure, I wanted toys when I was a kid, and I wanted that dress I saw in the window display, but I never truly wanted something with a burning passion. Then, I met you. You were a man of culture. You were a man who stuck by your principles. You were a man of kindness. You're the only thing I've ever truly wanted. And now, so soon after the wedding, you'll be ripped from my grasp and I'll be alone again."
As I stared into her watering blue eyes, my heart nearly collapsed into a million little pieces with inevitable grief. If I had the choice, I would never leave her side. But I knew I didn't have a choice, and so I just stood there in silence, memorizing her face.
Suddenly, we were interrupted by a knock on the door. I slowly stood up, not removing my eyes from Tricia until the very last second I reached the door and opened it. Before me stood Chieftain Jameson, a tall and spindly man in his late 40s. I just stood there open mouthed as our leader emotionlessly walked by me and let himself into our little apartment. Chieftain Jameson very rarely left the Justice Building at all, and it was unheard of for a man of such stature to make house visits to the working class. Our Chieftain had never even deigned to utter a single word in my direction.
"You did not appear at the Gathering," Jameson accused, his piercing green eyes boring holes into mine. "You have been selected for the draft. When you did not appear when your name was called, the council assumed you were organizing a revolt, much like the last Draftee who did not appear at the gathering approximately four eons ago." Jameson smirked, "There is a reason we have no revolts in the tribe. The man was incinerated alive."
"I- I didn't know," a wave of nausea overcame me. Pure fear and anticipation ate away at me from within like acid. "I just got… distracted, is all." I inadvertently looked at Tricia, and my heart broke all over again as I saw the silent tears descending from her pale freckled face.
"Very well, then," Jameson held himself regally, his head held high in the air. "I expressed to the council that I would seek your presence and if you were obedient and loyal to the tribe, no harm would come your way. Don't make me regret my decision to spare your life. Please follow me, and I shall lead you to the colony ship."
"Colony ship?" I tilted my head to the side, puzzled.
"All shall be explained in due time, Gregory," Jameson remarked. "Now please come with me."
"But Tricia-" I gathered the courage to protest. I refused to leave her without a goodbye.
"There is no time for goodbyes," Jameson impatiently asserted. "Follow or face the wrath of the council."
As I followed Jameson out the door of my apartment for the last time, I risked one final glance behind me at Trica. 'I love you,' I mouthed, and she simply nodded.
I walked behind Jameson for approximately an hour before we reached the edge of the island. I stared in awe as I observed the colossal ship before me. Its architecture was foreign to me. Rather than a small wooden structure like the little boats the townsfolk were provided with, this was large, metal, and obviously had multiple levels. "What is this?" I murmured, awestruck.
"This," Jameson began, "is our recently developed colony ship. Unbeknownst to the townsfolk, at our last treaty signing a number of neighboring islands refused to renew the alliance. Therefore, as we possess military superiority, we shall attack and possess these islands for our own. This is where you come in. After receiving proper training from General Neander, you shall board the ship and attack the islands. If you succeed, you shall return in honor to see your wife, but if you fail, both you and your wife shall be incinerated alive."
I held in a gasp as those final words escaped Jameson's lips. It was one thing to threaten me, but why bring Tricia into this? If I failed, it would be my fault, but not hers. "Why Tricia?" I barely breathed out.
"An incentive to succeed," a wide grin graced Jameson's face for the first time since he appeared at my door. As he turned around and left, I fought the urge to pummel that smirk right off his face. In that moment, I knew that I had to win, that I had to protect Tricia. I had to succeed.
