“Is he dead?” It hurts to speak, and my voice sounds unfamiliar. Low. Harsh. Swollen.
“Not yet.” Raffe puts the bat on the ground, grabs Damone’s legs, and begins to drag him. Not toward the residence and the help that lies inside, but away.
“What are you doing?”
“We can’t risk Damone telling Professor Holt about this.”
“We can’t prevent him from talking.”
“Yes.” Raffe looks up at me. “We can. No one will question a student disappearing from the University. Especially one who is barely making the grade, like Damone. Students know failure requires a price. Some are too cowardly to pay it.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper. But I do. Raffe is dragging Damone to the ravine. If Damone isn’t dead now, he will be when he hits the bottom. “We can’t kill him.”
Raffe stops at the edge of the crevice. “If we don’t, we’ll both suffer the consequences. I’m willing to face Professor Holt if you are. Your choice.” He puts his foot on Damone’s back and waits.
My choice. Save Damone or myself. Kill or be killed.
I wish Tomas were here to help me make this choice. I know the one I should make. All my life I’ve been taught to respect each and every life. To do whatever is necessary to preserve it.
Moonlight glistens off the blood on my hands. I picture myself running inside. Calling for a doctor. Following the teachings my parents instilled in me.
But I don’t. I tell myself Damone has lost too much blood to be helped. That no matter the choice I make, he will die. Both are true. But I know in my heart the real reason behind my choice. Choosing to attempt to save Damone’s life means ending my own.
I look out into the darkness, willing Tomas to step from the shadows. When he doesn’t, I take a deep breath, swallow the bile building in my throat, and nod.
That one movement is all it takes. Raffe puts his arms under Damone and rolls Damone onto his back. Someone lets out a low groan. Raffe from exertion? Damone from pain? Before I can find out, Raffe gives one final push, and Damone’s body plunges over the edge.
I can’t breathe. Bending over, I put my hands on my legs and force air in and out of my lungs. Without missing a beat, Raffe walks back across the grass, grabs the bat, and drops it into the emptiness below. “Okay. Let’s get going.”
There is no guilt in his voice. No concern for the life he has just taken. None of the tears that make my body tremble and my eyes burn.
“Cia. We have to go.” He grabs my arm and pulls me toward the shed. “We don’t want to be out here if someone inside starts wondering what the shouting was that woke them up. If we don’t want to get caught, we have to get out of here now.”
I flinch at the icy tone of Raffe’s voice. Nausea rocks my stomach. A knife slick with blood is clutched in my hand. A body lies broken at the bottom of the ravine. Raffe appears unfazed as he picks my bike off the shed floor and wheels it out to me. A moment later, he returns with one of his own.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re not going anywhere with him.”
Tomas.
I turn and see him step out of the darkness into a patch of moonlight. His face is filled with worry and rage as he looks from me to the knife in my hands to Raffe.
“I should have figured you’d turn up.” Raffe takes a step toward Tomas. “Did you and Cia plan to meet tonight, or did the two of you figure out some kind of emergency contact method?” When neither of us answers, Raffe shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Cia didn’t need you to come to her rescue. She saved herself from Damone. The two of us were just about to head out. Do you want to come with us?”
Tomas stiffens at the implication that Raffe and I planned to go somewhere together without informing him. I start to explain, but realize this isn’t the time or place. The longer we stand here talking, the greater chance there is of someone hearing us. If someone finds us here, they will see the knife and the blood that stains my hands. They will know what I have done. All of us will pay the penalty for my crime. I will not allow that to happen.
Sliding the knife into my bag, I take a step toward Tomas. “Look.” The word scrapes my swollen throat. “We have to get out of here now.”
“I’m ready when you are.” Raffe sets down his bike, heads back to the outbuilding, and returns with another. “This was Damone’s. I don’t think he’ll mind if you use it, Tomas. Now, if both of you are ready, I think we should get moving.”
I look toward the edge where Damone lost his life, feel the throb of my throat where his hands tried to end mine, and climb onto my bicycle. Tomas does the same, but refuses to look at me as we begin to pedal.
Both Tomas and Raffe let me take the lead as we ride across campus. I push my legs as fast as they will go, desperate to leave the sorrow and fear of my actions behind. But there is no forgetting the feeling of my knife puncturing Damone’s flesh or watching his body plunge into the ravine. I want to collapse to the ground and howl with frustration, guilt, and sorrow. But I can’t because there is more at work here than a boy who wanted my success for his own and was willing to do anything to get it. There will be time enough for guilt and recriminations later. Now I have to decide what to do about the boys riding behind me. One I would trust with my life. The other just saved my life, but I do not understand his motivations. I need to if Tomas and I are going to survive this night.
When we are several blocks away from the University’s entrance, I stop and wait for Tomas and Raffe. When they arrive, I ignore the frustration on Tomas’s face and turn to Raffe. “This is as far as we are going to go until you answer some questions. I know why Damone came outside tonight. Why did you?”
“Because I was following you.” Raffe pushes up the sleeve of his jacket. In the moonlight, I can see three angry-looking scars. “You helped me during the Induction, not because you were trying to get ahead but because it was the right thing to do. That made an impression.” He shrugs and rolls down his sleeve. “A couple days after the Induction ended, I heard Griffin and Damone say that if they couldn’t beat you in class, they’d find another way to get rid of you. A few days later, Professor Holt asked Griffin to keep an eye on you. He said she was concerned about your suitability for leadership and wanted Griffin to report any unusual behavior. Griffin asked Damone and me to help him follow you. I drew that duty last weekend.”
My heart skips. “You saw me leave the residence.”
“You were too fast for me to keep up.” He gives a small smile. “This time I was ready. Apparently, so was Damone.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand. Why not report me to Professor Holt?”
“Because I’m not like Griffin and Damone.” Raffe glances in the direction we came from. “I grew up believing that going to the University and helping revitalize this country were the greatest things a person could do. Two years ago, I started to realize that things weren’t as perfect as my father and his friends claimed. Something happened—”
“What?” Tomas asks.
Raffe shakes his head. “There isn’t time to get into that now. The two of you can either trust me or not, but if we’re going to do whatever it is you planned, we’d better get moving or we’ll never make it back by morning. Unless, of course, you guys don’t plan to go back.”
“Of course we’re going back,” I say, wondering if Raffe has somehow overheard Tomas and me discuss our plans to leave. If so, what else did he hear?
Though we have studied together, Raffe is not a friend. Not someone I understand. His actions tonight should elicit my trust, but part of me can’t help wondering if that was the reason he helped me in the first place. Damone had more ambition than brains. It’s not a surprise he would jump to betray a fellow student in order to better his standing. While I didn’t like Damone, I think I understand what lay behind his actions. Raffe is a mystery. I do not want to believe someone would aid in someone’s death just to gain the confidence of another. However, Will’s actions in The Testi
ng proved almost anything is possible if someone wants something badly enough. It’s possible Raffe pushed Damone to his death in order to delve into my secrets. My father once told me to trust no one. I take Tomas’s hand and hold tight. No matter what secrets we had in the past, I know I am right to trust Tomas. Unless I want to return to campus and ignore my chance to help end The Testing, I see no choice for now but to take Raffe with us.
“So are we going to stand here and talk all night, or do what you planned to do?” Raffe asks.
“Let’s go,” I answer.
“No.” Tomas lets go of my hand. “Cia, you can’t trust him.”
Maybe not, but I see no other option. Asking Raffe to give us a moment, I lead Tomas down the street and explain about the airfield and the answers I hope to find there. “The president is going to propose the change in law and ask for a vote soon. We may not have another chance to look for the answers the rebels need. I don’t know if I can live with myself if people die and I didn’t do everything I could to prevent it. Can you?”
I look at the dried blood on my fingers. Maybe if I prevent more deaths, I can live with the one I am responsible for. Maybe Tomas will be able to live with Zandri’s death, too.
Tomas studies Raffe across the darkened street. In the silence, I think of Will and his betrayal during The Testing. Tomas believed he could not be trusted. I insisted Tomas was wrong, and we almost died. I would not blame Tomas for walking away from me now. Instead he pulls me close and says, “No. I couldn’t live with myself either. Let’s go.”
United, we walk back to where Raffe waits with our bicycles. I pull the Transit Communicator out of my bag, turn it on, and tie it to the middle of my handlebars with shoelaces I took out of a pair of boots. Between the Communicator’s compass and the map book, I should be able to get us there and back without getting lost or turned around.
The map showed a number of ways to get to the airfield. My choice is a route two miles longer than the others. A road just beyond the revitalized boundaries of the city. Speed is important, but speed will mean nothing if we are spotted. Three people riding down the city streets in the middle of the night would attract attention.
Raffe says nothing as we pedal to the east. Revitalized streets give way to those abandoned to time. The pavement is bumpy and buckled. Using the dim light of the moon, I steer clear of the most damaged areas and keep riding. Finally, we reach the road that heads to the south. Here the pavement is smooth and in perfect repair. I feel my shoulders tense as I glide along the asphalt. The road’s condition acts as a warning. Pavement is only this well tended if it is important to the United Commonwealth Government. Though I doubt officials would travel in the dead of night, we need to take care.
The glowing display of the Transit Communicator marks our progress. I keep picturing Damone. His lanky body. Angular face. The calculation in his eyes except when he laughed. Laughter transformed him into someone young and carefree. From what he said during the Induction, laughter and fun were not priorities in his family. Success was. Perhaps if he had laughed more, he would not have made the choice to trade my life for his gain. He would not have been a tool for Professor Holt to use against me.
I think of all the lives lost in the Seven Stages of War. Of those who were sent by their leaders into battle and instructed to kill. Did those in charge understand the implications of their orders? Or were they, like Damone, thinking only of what they hoped to gain?
We are less than a mile from our destination when Raffe asks us to stop. “Do you think the two of you can tell me where we’re headed? The only thing this way is the old air force base.”
“That’s where we’re going,” Tomas says.
“Why? You wouldn’t have seen the warning signs during Induction, but Cia did.”
“Someone isn’t paying attention to the signs,” I say. “There are people living inside that fence, and I want to know who.”
Raffe looks like he wants to push for an explanation, but I cut him off by putting my feet on the pedals and going forward. If he doesn’t want to follow, he doesn’t have to. But he does. As we pedal the last mile, I see Tomas and Raffe scanning the horizon, looking for signs of whoever might be living in this unrevitalized area. Off to the east, a howl echoes across the plains. A reminder to keep alert for more than human-made tracks.
I spot the fence a hundred yards south of a bend in the road. We hide our bicycles in a thicket of bushes and listen for sounds that we are not alone. Dried leaves crunch under our feet, and the wind rustles grass and tree branches. Other than that, everything is silent.
Taking a deep breath, I put my hands on the fence and climb. Our feet hit the other side at the same time. Raffe starts forward, but I turn back and scan the fence, looking for a landmark to tell us where we entered. The shadows of twisted trees and scraggly bushes spread across the landscape. Nothing unique marks this spot. Digging into my bag, I pull out the extra shirt I packed and tie it near the top of the chain link. There’s a chance someone will see the fabric and wonder at it, but I would rather take the risk than waste time looking for our entry point later. Between the marker I’ve left and the Communicator’s compass, we should be able to find our way out.
“How did you know to mark the fence like that?” Raffe whispers.
Tomas answers, “It’s what we do in Five Lakes to make sure we can find our way back when we venture outside our colony’s boundaries.”
Raffe nods. “That makes sense. So now what?”
I pull out my penlight and shine it close to the ground. “Now we look for tracks and listen for sounds that will lead to whoever lives here.”
I glance at the watch on my bag. We agree to search for an hour. It isn’t much time, but it’s all we can afford if we want to make it back to the residence before dawn.
I watch the compass and walk with my hand cupped around the penlight’s beam—a trick Zeen taught me to limit the amount of light that can be seen at a distance—but juggling the two is awkward. Especially when the terrain becomes less level as grass and trees give way to broken pavement and collapsed buildings.
“You’ll be able to look for tracks faster if you let me hold that.” Raffe reaches for the Communicator, but Tomas’s hand is there first.
“I think it’s better if I take it.” Tomas looks at the readout and points. “South is this way.”
Raffe jerks at every rustle and snap. It makes it hard to focus as I study the ground. I am about to give up when my light passes over a section of dirt in between broken pavement. The dirt is dry and hard, but recently must have been soft enough to capture the tread of someone’s shoe. The print is faint. Too faint for Raffe to understand what he is seeing. But Tomas does. I spot another shoeprint fifteen feet from the first. Then another. The brown and yellow grasses growing through the pavement are stamped down in a manner that suggests someone has recently traveled this way. But as encouraging as that is, a glance at the watch tells me we will need to start back soon. If so, I will have to accept that this trip and the death that came because of it have been for nothing.
That’s when I see it.
A flickering glow in the distance. A fire.
My blood quickens as I turn off the flashlight and slide it into the pocket of my bag. I flinch when my fingers brush the handle of the laboratory knife and then close around it. My hand shakes as I pull it free. Never do I want to be forced to take another life, but I am not naïve. Whoever is by the fire may attack. If so, I will be ready.
Step by careful step, I move closer and crouch behind what must have once been some kind of vehicle. Tomas follows my movements and soundlessly joins me. Raffe arrives moments later. My heart pounds as I peer around the twisted metal and squint into the firelight.
People are lounging near the fire. Behind them is a one-story structure that looks to be mostly intact. I hear the murmur of voices, but I’m too far away to understand what they say. Part of me wonders why they are awake at this time of night. Then a memory fl
ashes. Tomas and I huddle together on another night. Not beyond pieces of twisted metal, but in a small building with no roof. In my memory, Tomas tells me to get some sleep. He’ll wake me in a few hours so I can keep watch for other Testing candidates or animals that might mean us harm. These few must be the ones designated to safeguard their group’s sleep. That means there are more people nearby.
Someone laughs and shouts, “Hey, new guy. Bring us some water.”
“My name isn’t new guy.” The door to the structure opens. A man appears and walks toward the fire. “It’s Cris. If you guys are such hotshots, you should have figured that out by now.”
I hear Tomas suck in air as the firelight glints off a large silver gun strapped to the man’s side. But it isn’t the gun that makes Tomas catch his breath. It’s the sound of the voice, the sight of the blond hair, and the face that is familiar to us both.
The man taking a seat by the fire isn’t named Cris. It’s my oldest brother, Zeen.
Chapter 18
THERE IS MORE laughter. More conversation. Tomas’s hand finds mine, but I barely feel his touch as I close my eyes and then open them again. Zeen is still here. Wearing the gun at his side as easily as he wears his smile. My heart soars at the sight of him, even as confusion swirls through me. After so long without a glimpse of my family, to see Zeen’s grin and hear his laugh is like a balm for my soul. I want to race to where he sits, fling my arms around him, and bury my head in his shoulder the way I did when I was little.
But I don’t. Because Zeen is using a different name, which tells me he doesn’t trust these people, whoever they are. No matter how much I want to, I cannot go to him. Not without more information.
I glance at the watch on my bag. The time I set aside for this expedition has elapsed. To return to the residence without discovery, we have to leave now. We need to be in our beds when Damone is found missing. Otherwise, questions will be asked. Questions we do not want to answer. Only, I can’t leave without knowing what Zeen is doing here—I have to stay. Raffe and Tomas don’t, though. I will not risk their futures at the University or their lives just because I’m risking my own.