The Alpha’s Human Surrogate

Chapter 2 - Second Selection

Erin’s POV

The celebrations that night after my first selection were both joyous and bittersweet. My family and I were delirious with joy that I wasn’t taken, and yet there was a sadness that permeated the air. It was sorrow. Sorrow for our friends whose daughters did not come home.

I remember asking Ellie why she was fearful of selection, the only thing she would tell me is, “We are not permitted to speak of it. We will be punished.”

That was answer enough for me. Instead of going to college, I worked the land with my Mother. I planned to make sure that we borrowed no more from them, my name would not be put in for selection any more times than is absolutely required.

The work is tough, and I wonder how my Mother has managed all these years, since Dad’s accident. As per the law, 50% of our yield is taken by the wolves to provide for the packhouse. The rest we can keep to either eat or sell. Mother told me that most harvests we barely had enough to eat, never mind sell. Since I started working with her, we’ve been able to double our harvest and invest in new crops. We’ve started growing flowers and making perfumes also. Our cupboards have been full for the first time since Dad was injured.

************

It’s been two years since my first selection. And the next is fast approaching. I find myself attending the college two afternoons a week to again prepare for selection. Again the teacher reads us our history and how ‘The Hunt’ came to be. Today I’m informed that our slips for selection are accumulated. She now has my attention.

“In your first selection you receive one slip. Two slips in your second selection. Three slips in your third selection. Any time you or your family borrow from them, additional slips are entered. These slips carry forward to the next selection, until you are too old to be selected,” Mrs Greaves informs us and several girls gasp.

“But, Madam. My first year we borrowed 10 slips worth, plus my one for entry. My second year we borrowed 12 slips, plus my two for entry. This is my third and final selection and we’ve borrowed eight slips this year, and I have my three for entry. That’s.. that’s.. that’s 36 chances that my name will be called,” a girl called Anna cries.

“Anna, I explained all of this to you last year. Is there nobody your family can buddy up with to share supplies?” Mrs Greaves asks kindly.

“What’s the point? After this selection, I’m done!” Anna snaps.

“Yes. But, your sister will turn 18 years old next year. Start planning ahead to prevent her name being entered as many times. We must work together,” Mrs Greaves says firmly.

“My sister. Oh god, my sister!!!” Anna sobs.

“God has forsaken us. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t be living this life,” I tell her. Damn, that was meant to be in my head.

“God works in mysterious ways, child. And if you attended church, you would know this,” the teacher informs me.

“Forgive me, madam. I’m just on edge for the selection, especially knowing I will have 14 slips. 14 chances of being chosen.”

********

A typical day for me is when Mother and I wake at 5am and begin our work, while my Dad, when he isn’t doing the finances will get Cait up at 6am and talk her through the Kata. I break off from work at 7am and spar with her until 745am, and then she must get ready for school.

“Why must I do this? Why must I get up so early? What purpose does this serve?” She always grumbles.

“Sweetheart.. we do not know what happens to those who are selected. I want you and Erin to be able to defend yourselves, to protect yourselves.. if.. ..” His voice breaks. “I want you.. I want you both to live,” he stammers.

Cait is momentarily distracted by the pain in our Dad’s voice and I seize my opportunity to take her down. “Never lose focus, little sister,” I tell her kindly.

“I’m not cut out for this. I’m not strong and brave like Erin is,” she grumbles. I know she’s right. While I thrive from the challenge of sparring and physical activity, Cait is delicate. Almost fragile. If we lived in another place, I’d say she would be a Nurse or a teacher. But first, she must survive until she’s 26 years old.

We still have another two years to work with her before her first selection. Another two years to make her strong and fearless. She just has to believe in herself.

“You’re right. You’re not me. You’re kind and sweet. Never lose focus of that, I love who you are,” I tell her truthfully and hug her. “That’s enough for today. Get yourself ready for school, we’ll take a break for the rest of the week and run together. We still have two years until your first selection.”

*******

“Do you think you can beat me this time?” She teases with a mocking grin.

While karate and sparring isn’t her thing, she’s a born runner. She runs with such grace and at a surprising speed. I don’t even mind that she beats me every time on the final sprint home, it’s worth it to see the joy on her face. Even if my competitive self swears at being outdone.

The day of selections is here. As is the norm, there is no work to be done. We must use the time to prepare. Mother treats me to pancakes for breakfast and I’m a little surprised when Cait comes through to the kitchen dressed in sparring gear. “One more final run. We must make sure you’re not rusty,” she tells me.

“Cait, we agreed. No more sparring,” I say.

“Erin. Let me do this for you. Don’t think I don’t see you practicing the kata while you work. I need to know you’re still the tough you, in case your selected.”

“I’m eating,” I grumble through a mouth full of pancake.

“You’re just scared I’ll kick your arse,” she scoffs.

“You what?!” She has my focus now. I run to the bedroom which is no longer cold. We can afford to use each fireplace now and it’s heaven.

Cait and I spend the next hour and a half sparring. I’ll admit, I’m a little rusty. She’s floored me twice. But then again, there’s a new determination on her face. And as she floors me for the third time, I feel an overwhelming wave of love that she’s doing the thing she hates to make sure I’m safe.

“Girls, go for your run and then it’s time to shower.

We’ve had warm baths for the last year and it’s heaven. It’s no longer a selection day treat. Once we’re bathed, I put on a delicate coral lace dress from my Mother’s suitcase and watch her as she styles my hair the same as she did the last selection day. We’re ready. Once again we head to the collection square and board a bus to attend the selection event.

Most of us file in silently and sign in by placing our fingers on the fingerprint reader. My eyes search for my parents and I give them a nod, hoping to reassure them that I’m fine. Once again 18-25 year olds are herded into chained areas marked off by ages, just as last time the oldest are in the front and the young ones, towards the back.

This selection day, I find myself in the middle with the other 20 year olds. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another’s hands, some are even openly praying.

The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic than last selection. It seems that there are more of us. I find myself standing beside Anna from my class and another girl called Sarah. We all exchange terse nods, then focus our attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the tree line. I find myself staring at the familiar silver sphere in a daze. Due to the amount we borrowed that first selection year, there are 14 slips with Erin Anderson written on them.

Why do they take us? I still don’t know. They as always will take 20 daughters, and as always, there’s usually at least two who never return – this is the wolves way of reminding us how we are completely at their mercy. How little chance we would stand of surviving a rebellion. It dawns on me for the first time, just now that if there are five locations, that means they are taking 100 girls. Why do they need 100 girls??

“QUIET!!” a voice barks out. The entire crowd becomes motionless and soundless.

It’s Beta Daniel, once again. I’ve only seen him a handful of times, but each time he makes me feel nervous. There’s something about him that makes me think he’s a bad person. A bad wolf.

“Let’s get on with it. Twenty names will be called. If your name is called you will come and take a seat on the stage. Once all twenty seats are taken, the rest of you will leave. The chosen will then come with us to participate in The Hunt.”

Why do they need 100 girls?

“Annabelle Irwin.”

There’s a shrieked ‘ANNNNIIEEE’ I know it’s from her Mother.

“Alison Dean.”

“Amy Shephard.”

With each name that is called out, just like last time, I breathe a sigh of relief and thank my lucky stars that it’s not me. With each name that is called, a tear falls from my eyes when I hear their family sob and imagine my family crying for me.

“And last but not least, Anna Smith.”

“NOOO. IT’S NOT FAIR!!” Anna shrieks and tries to run from the crowd. “I WON’T GO!

“ENOUGH,” Beta Daniel barks as he lunges from the stage and sprints after her, he catches her swiftly and spins her around, the back of his hand strikes her face and she falls unconscious into the mud. “I’m sick of you f*****g humans. Every single year, one of you try to run. Why can’t you just accept your fate?”

We solemnly file from the grounds, back to the bus to go home. We’ll be back yet again in two years.