“You’re smart, Cia, but you don’t have the killer instinct. I could walk away right now and you wouldn’t fire at me.”
“You wanna bet? Go ahead and try me.”
For a moment everything goes silent. I hear Tomas whisper my name. Then gunfire fills the air.
And I remember. My knees buckle, and I grab the trunk of a tree to keep from stumbling to the ground as whatever barrier Dr. Barnes and his officials created to keep my memories at bay disappears.
Ryme offering me corncakes.
Will and Gill at the dinner table, laughing.
Holding Malachi’s hand as life drains out of his body. His blood staining the tiles as officials carry him out of The Testing room.
Jumping across a bridge.
Being chased by mutated humans. Claws raking down my arm. Searing agony mixes with churning fear as I turn, fire, and kill.
“Cia? Are you okay?” Michal’s voice cuts through the flood of memories. I look up and see him and Raffe wearing similar expressions of concern. The recording is no longer playing.
I take a deep breath and pull my thoughts back to the present. There is time enough to sort through the past. To remember. Now is the time to make sure what is contained in those memories never happens again.
Straightening my shoulders, I say, “I’m fine.”
Michal searches my face. Finally, he nods. “I have to get these to Symon. Once the president plays all these recordings on the Debate Chamber floor, officials will have no choice other than to vote against Dr. Barnes. A few might argue that the acts on these recordings were not sanctioned by Testing officials, but they won’t stand a chance against public outrage.”
The idea of Will’s betrayal, Tomas’s near death, and my attempt to kill being played aloud on the Debate Chamber floor makes me dizzy as I shift the bag on my shoulder and follow behind Michal and Raffe. People will know the choices I have made. They will hear the things we’ve all done and pass judgment. A small price to pay, I tell myself, for bringing The Testing to an end.
Twice we stop at the sound of nearby voices. Finally, we reach the broken outbuilding where Michal instructs us to wait. Two rotting gray walls are wedged in between a group of squat, twisted trees. Eroded sections in the front wall give us a good view of a long stretch of pavement four or five hundred yards away. On either side of the pavement are buildings. A handful of rebels hurry across the compound, long black guns slung over their shoulders. Zeen is not in sight, but he is here. Somewhere. And soon, because of these recordings, he will be safe. We all will.
Michal points to a building less than a hundred feet from where we are crouching. It’s a small red brick building set in the middle of a grove of trees.
“No one who comes by should question the two of you. But if someone asks, pretend to be new recruits who are looking for time alone. You should be fine.” Michal holds his hand out to Raffe, who hands over his bag. “Don’t move from this spot. I’ll be back soon.”
We watch through rotting wood as Michal hurries through the trees and disappears inside the brick structure. After ten minutes, he walks out. I gasp when a man with gray hair appears behind him.
I know that man.
Closing my eyes, I sift through my memories. He stood on the other side of a fence during The Testing. He gave me food and a drug that helped me keep my family safe from secrets I would have been compelled to share during the interview. Michal once told me I’d met Symon during my Testing days. This must be him.
Symon claps Michal on the shoulder and walks with him in our direction. I hold my breath as they pass by our location, and I hear a familiar voice say, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing these recordings directly to me.”
“I would have brought them to the president myself, but I know you wanted me to bring anything I found to you, Symon,” Michal says. “Once she plays these recordings on the Debate Chamber floor, the members will have to vote in favor of her motion. Dr. Barnes will be removed. You can tell Ranetta when you meet with her today. She will be relieved to know there won’t be a need for any more senseless death.”
From a crack in the one side wall, I see Symon sigh. “I know it seems that these recordings should guarantee the president wins the vote. However, I have learned that when dealing with the brightest minds, you have to expect some will question and have different opinions. Just as you do.”
My heart races. Those words. I’ve heard words like those spoken in just this way. By this same voice. In the early morning hours to Professor Holt.
I shift to get a better look at Symon. He shakes his head and takes a small pistol out of his pocket. “I’m an expert at dealing with those kinds of questions and the trouble they cause. That’s why Jedidiah assigned me to this post.”
Two shots split the air. Michal’s eyes widen. His hands reach for his chest and he crumples to the ground. Terror claws my swollen throat, but the hand that clamps over my mouth prevents sound from escaping. I swallow the scream and hear Raffe whisper against my ear, “Keep still. You can’t help him.”
He’s right. The bullets were fired directly into Michal’s heart. He was dead before he hit the ground. Even knowing that, I must use every ounce of my willpower to sit motionless as the blood flows unchecked from Michal’s body. To not cry out. To not strike back at the man who stole his life. I fight to breathe as Symon places the recorder on the ground next to Michal’s lifeless body, points the gun at it, and fires two more times. After picking up the shattered recorder and the bag containing the recordings, Symon walks back to the building without giving Michal a second glance.
A sob rips from my heart. Tears stream down my face as I take a halting step forward. I want to hold Michal’s hand as I did for Malachi, but Raffe pulls me back. Silently he points to two men coming out of Symon’s headquarters. They stride quickly to where Michal lies. One takes his feet. The other grabs his shoulders. Together they cart Michal’s body away.
“Come on.” Raffe grabs my hand and pulls. “We have to go.”
I take one last look at the ground stained with Michal’s blood. Tears burn my eyes and sear my throat as I dig through my bag. When my fingers close around the handle of Raffe’s gun, I turn and run.
My feet fly over the ground. Tears blind me. I stumble over roots and debris, but I don’t fall. Raffe’s grip on my hand keeps me upright and moving. The scene I witnessed plays over and over in my head as I try to make sense of Michal’s death. Symon, the leader of the rebellion designed to remove Dr. Barnes peacefully and destroy The Testing, has just committed a murder to ensure the plan he created fails.
Why?
It isn’t until my fingers grip the fence that I recall Symon’s words and begin to understand. “When dealing with the brightest minds, you have to expect some will question the direction we are taking.”
The Testing was created to ferret out the best and the brightest young minds and mold them into leaders. But the best leaders form their own opinions. They want to go their own ways. How better to control those differing opinions than to allow them to think their views are being heard and even acted upon? If those who want change think they are part of a rebellion, there’s no reason for them to start one of their own. By allowing them to think they are helping one or two students like me during The Testing, Symon has convinced them that they are having a real effect. Symon’s argument for a peaceful solution wasn’t to save lives; it was a delaying tactic to ensure that The Testing could continue to take them. To ensure that the rebellion would never take place. Year after year of caution. Year after year of Testing candidates’ deaths.
Until now.
After so many years of inaction, the rebels to whom Symon has counseled patience are no longer willing to wait. They have planned an attack. An attack Symon and Dr. Barnes know about. Possibly they’ve even encouraged it to eliminate those who have become too hard to control. To keep The Testing safe to select the next generation of leaders even if it means plunging a country into war.
If nothing happens to alter Symon’s plans, my brother, the rebels, and hundreds of selected Testing candidates will die. Dr. Barnes and his team will win.
I refuse to let that happen.
But the only way to stop it is to create a new rebellion. A rebellion free of Dr. Barnes’s control.
For that, I will have to step up and be the leader the University is teaching me to be.
Deep in my heart, I hear Michal’s voice whisper the words he said before I began the fourth phase of The Testing. “You’re smart, Cia. You’re strong. There are people like me on your side who know you can make it. Please, prove I’m right.”
I’m not sure that I can, but I have to try.
Raffe and I ride to the University in silence as we absorb what we have witnessed. As our bicycles glide under the iron entrance, I put my hand in my pocket to signal to Tomas that I am back and realize my pocket is empty. The switch I created is gone. So is the special transmitter I created to prevent University officials from following my movements.
When did I lose them? Have Dr. Barnes and his officials been able to track our movements the entire time we were away from campus?
Raffe doesn’t seem to notice my concern as he suggests we split up. He will go to the residence and see whether Damone’s absence has raised an alarm. I will wait fifteen minutes and then follow. If it’s safe, Raffe will be standing near the entrance.
But even if an alarm hasn’t been raised, it still may not be safe. Not if Dr. Barnes knows I was not on campus. That Raffe and Tomas were with me. Before I can warn Raffe about the tracking devices and what Dr. Barnes might know, he rides off, promising to see me soon.
I notice the dirt streaked on my hand and head for the library.
My eyes dart around as I look for friends and enemies while I prop my bicycle next to the building. Taking measured breaths, I walk straight to the bathroom and scrub the dirt from my hands and the tears from my cheeks. I straighten my clothes and unfasten my hair, untangling it with my fingers. Then I step back and study myself in the reflector. Aside from the grass stain on my right knee, all evidence of my actions is gone. My appearance will give no one reason to question where I have been. I look normal. And yet I barely recognize the girl staring back at me. I wonder if when this is over, I will know her at all.
As I walk back outside to my bicycle, I finger the bracelet on my wrist and see the faces of those who have died. Michal. Damone. Rawson. Zandri. Malachi. Ryme. A scruffy boy named Roman. A stunning redhead called Annalise.
Face after face. Some I cannot name. All are dead. Soon more will follow. Unless I am as smart as Michal believed me to be.
If Raffe can get more recordings, there is hope. If not, the president’s vote will fail. By the end of the week, most of the rebels, including Zeen, could be killed. The city might be at war. I have almost no time to make a plan. To decide who I trust. Who will trust me.
Tomas. My heart wants to keep him from harm, but I cannot do this without him, and I know he will not let me. The only way to dispel the shadows that chase us both is to face them. I know he will agree and we will face them together.
But no matter how much I might want to, Tomas and I will not be able to do this alone. More help will be needed. But who?
Raffe.
He says his sister sat for the University Early Studies exam and failed. His quest to find her makes him a natural ally, but I cannot help but wonder if he will be like Will and ultimately betray us.
Can I trust Stacia and Naomy? Nothing in my Testing memories says that I can’t. But I remember Stacia’s cool smile. One she gave as she approved of choosing leaders who will do whatever is required to win.
As my residence comes into sight, I scroll through names and faces. Vic. Enzo. Brick. Kit. Will. They all are smart. Some have skills I know I will need. Others are willing to do the unthinkable to survive. I think of Ian and wonder what he will do. Will he take up arms with the rebel faction, or can I convince him to join with me? If I am to succeed, I will need to stop the rebels from attacking. To do that, I need someone on the inside who can give me information or convey my messages.
I stop on the far side of the bridge. Raffe waves to me in the distance to signal it is safe to return. But I hardly notice as I reach into my bag and close my fingers around the Transit Communicator. Zeen’s device. The one that has pointed me in the right direction, hidden my secrets, and kept me safe. A device designed to communicate with another that has been too far away to reach.
Could it be close enough now? Knowing that I have this half, could Zeen have brought the other one? Is he waiting for the right time to contact me? Or for me to reach him?
Raffe waves again, but I don’t put my feet on the pedals. Instead, I hit the Call button and say, “Hello.”
The seconds stretch to minutes as I wait for a response.
Finally, I tuck the Communicator into my bag and head across the bridge. As I stash my bicycle in the outbuilding, I look for signs of my confrontation with Damone. But all I see is grass deepening to a rich green. Trees stretching to the sunlight. Spring is ready to bloom, bringing with it another demonstration of how the conviction of a people to bring hope to the world can succeed.
I don’t know if I am ready to be a leader or if I can stop the war that threatens all I love, but as I hurry up to my rooms and close the door behind me, I know I will do everything in my power to keep the hope of our country and those who struggled for it alive.
And that’s when I hear it. The sound of static. A muted voice. It makes me want to cry with relief and fear.
“Cia. Are you there?”
Tears threaten as I lift the Communicator out of the bag and answer, “Yes, I’m here.”
I just hope I am ready for what comes next.