Chapter 21
THE ROOM IS small and white. White walls. White floors. No windows. A long black table sits along one side of the room with five Testing officials seated behind it. Two in red. Two in purple. And Dr. Barnes beckoning me farther inside. "Please, come on in, Cia. Take a seat. " In the middle of the room is a single black chair that faces the Testing officials. Next to it is a small black table and a glass of clear liquid. "Please have a drink. " All eyes follow me as I cross the room and take my seat. Dr. Barnes nods as I pick up the glass, making it clear the polite request is an order. There is no choice but to drink whatever the glass contains. Water. Perhaps something else. There is a metallic aftertaste along with something slightly bitter. Almost immediately I notice the tension leaching out of my muscles. After being on my guard for so long, the relaxation in my limbs feels wonderful. I find myself smiling and decide there is more than just a muscle relaxant in the mix. Whatever else they gave me must cause euphoria and an overwhelming sense of well-being. "Truth serum. " The words are out of my mouth the moment I think them. Dr. Barnes nods. "So far today, you're the first candidate to pick up on that without my telling them. " "Or maybe they were too scared to mention they noticed. " Again, the words are gone before I think to control them. Dr. Barnes laughs. "That is certainly a possibility. That's why we give you the drug. It is designed to help your mind and your body relax. We know how stressful this process is. We don't want the tension to interfere in our getting to know the real you. " The haze of euphoria clears, and this time I think before admitting, "I'm not sure I know who the real me is. " "That's what we are here to find out. Tell us about your family, Cia. " My family. I take a deep breath and carefully consider my answer. That I can stop and think before speaking makes me believe the liquid in the vial has counteracted the worst of the truth serum. Now I need to give them the answer they're looking for. They must already know about my parents and my brothers. So what do they want to hear? I decide to keep it simple. I list my family members. The other Testing officials ask a couple of questions about Five Lakes Colony, and I answer them as best I can. Their questions focus mostly around my father — what he taught me, what he told me about his Testing experience. I admit that he told me he remembered very little. "But he did warn me some of the other candidates would be very competitive. " They ask follow-up questions, and though my muscles are loosened, my mind stays alert enough for me to avoid answers that could put my family in jeopardy. When Dr. Barnes mentions he has heard that my oldest brother has spearheaded several projects for my father and asks me whether I think he should have been tested for the University, I do not hesitate. I lie. "My father tries to give all of his workers credit for projects they work on whether they deserve it or not. I love Zeen a lot, but his work is sloppy and doesn't merit the credit it receives. " I am relieved to navigate this pitfall when the next opens up in front of me. This time they ask about my father. Did he want his children to follow in his footsteps? Was he excited I was chosen? I keep my answers simple and upbeat. No mention of my father's dreams or his unhappiness at my candidacy. Nothing to cause Tosu officials to think twice about my father's memories of his time in The Testing. The questions shift to The Testing itself. Why did I alert Brick to what I believed was Roman's deception? To do less would make me a poor teammate. What was my reasoning behind burying the unknown testing candidate? My parents taught me to treat life with respect. Did I come in contact with people from outside the Testing barriers? No. How do I feel about my decision to trust Will? Trusting Will was a poor choice. I will choose more wisely in the future. As I answer, I am constantly aware of Dr. Barnes's eyes studying me, weighing every word. When he finally speaks again he asks, "Tell us about your relationship with Tomas Endress. " The question surprises me. Carefully, I answer, "The two of us are close friends. He says he loves me, but I think that's because I remind him of home. " "Surely you feel more than friendship for Mr. Endress. Why else would you have risked your life by taking the time to save his?" I bite my lip and try to decide what Dr. Barnes wants to hear. Finally, I say, "My family taught me to help others at all costs. It's the Five Lakes Colony way. " Dr. Barnes leans forward. "Do you think taking time to rework your bicycle in order to save his life was a smart decision?" "It worked," I answer. "We're both alive. " "Yes. You are. " He smiles. "But I'm concerned you might be too emotionally attached to candidate Endress. " The benign tone cannot mask the menace behind the words. Even the Testing officials flanking Dr. Barnes shift uncomfortably in their seats. The silence stretches between us, making it hard to breathe. It must be my turn to say something, but no question has been asked — and without knowing what he is asking, I cannot hope to answer correctly. And something tells me this answer is the most important of them all. Finally, when the silence becomes unbearable, I admit, "I don't understand. " "Emotional entanglements can be challenging in these kinds of situations. For instance, what will happen if you are accepted to the University and he is not?" My heart thunders. "I will be pleased for myself and disappointed the Testing committee didn't recognize Tomas's potential. He's smart and resourceful. The United Commonwealth would benefit from having him attend the University. " "Should we be concerned that your disappointment could impact your performance at the University?" How to answer the question? My mind races. Whatever I say will not only impact my life, but affect Tomas, too. To say I am going to be indifferent will be a lie they can easily identify. After all, as Dr. Barnes pointed out, I did save Tomas's life at the risk of my own. The truth serum they gave me is supposed to render lies impossible. If I answer with an obvious lie now they will know something has gone amiss and wonder why. I resist the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my pants and force my mind to focus. There is only one answer I can come up with. "All leaders have to live with disappointment at some point or another. If I have to learn that lesson early, I won't enjoy it, but I will do my best not to let you down. " The other Testing officials look at one another as I wait for whatever else Dr. Barnes has in store. He rolls a pencil back and forth on the table in front of him as he studies me. I remain still and meet his stare with one of my own. Someone in the room coughs. Another clears her throat. Those are the only sounds as the minutes tick away. Finally, Dr. Barnes says, "I think we've gotten all the information we need. Unless any of my colleagues have something to ask?" Every head behind the table shakes from side to side, flooding me with confusion. Dr. Barnes told us the evaluations could take forty-five minutes. I doubt twenty minutes have passed since I walked into this room. They never asked about my performance in the first two tests and only asked a handful of questions about test number four. Does their disinterest mean I've failed? It must, because they are pushing back their chairs. I want to ask them to wait. To explain that people who elicit trust only to betray should not be leaders. To tell them that while I am no longer the same girl who dreamed of coming to Tosu City, I am someone who should be selected for the University. Not because I want to be a part of this system. I don't think I do. Not anymore. But because I want the chance to live. Before I can speak, Dr. Barnes says, "Before you go, I should ask if you have any questions for us. " This is my chance to impress them. This is the time to ask something that will show the depth of my observational skills or demonstrate my ability to think on my feet. But while I know that this is my chance to shine, the temptation to fill one important blank is too great. Maybe it was talking about Five Lakes Colony and our tight-knit community or maybe it was learning Will took the time to discover the name of the girl he killed. While the chances are slim, someday I might go home. If the pills Tomas has sneaked from the hospital help me retain my memory, I will be able to tell Malachi's family about his time at The Testing. I will be able to tell them how he died. Zandri deserves no less. So instead of discussing the fields of study or questioning what my life will be like while attending the University, I ask, "What happened to Zandri Hicks during the last test? How did she die?" A ghost of a smile plays on Dr. Barnes's lips, and he lets out a small laugh. "And here I thought you had that figured out. Perhaps the answer will come to you after this interview is over. After all, you do have her identification bracelet in your bag. " He checks his watch and sighs. "And with that, this interview is at an end. Congratulations on making it this far in the process, Cia. It has been a pleasure to watch you perform. " I'm escorted out of the room before I can ask what he means about Zandri and her bracelet. My legs threaten to buckle as the official leads me down the hall. This must be a typical response either to the drug or the stress, because the Testing official puts an arm around my waist as he leads me back to my designated sleeping quarters. And then he is gone, leaving me alone with my worry of failure and Dr. Barnes's parting words to keep me company. Zandri. Dr. Barnes thought I already knew what happened to her. How could I? I never once saw her on the Testing plains. There is no way I could have ended up with her identification bracelet. Upending my bag on the bed, I search for clues to what I'm supposed to have learned already. There are my clothes, the Transit Communicator, my pocketknife. There is a fragment of white sheet lodged in the corner of my bag. But all other evidence that the fourth test ever took place is gone. Except for three small identification bracelets that rest in the side pocket. My fingers outline the design on the first. The triangle with an eight-spoked wheel I took from the girl we buried. The girl Will killed with his crossbow. The girl I now have a name for — Nina. A girl from Pierre Colony who came here to take a test and was murdered by the United Commonwealth. Will might have pulled the trigger, but the Testing officials allowed it to happen. Over the years, how many other candidates have murdered to keep themselves alive? And how many more have died to help the Testers pass judgment on the merits of the candidates? The thought makes me angry. So much so that it takes me a while to remember the two other bracelets in my bag. One of which Dr. Barnes claims is the answer to my question. I put Nina's bracelet to the side and study the other two. The first displays Roman's symbol — an X surrounded by a circle. On the other, smaller bracelet is a triangle with a stylized flower. I think back to our ride to Tosu City. Zandri was flirting with Tomas while her fingers toyed with her bracelet. A bracelet with this design. A bracelet I don't remember picking up. Where did it come from? I think through the events of the fourth test day by day. The run through the wreckage that was once Chicago. The beautiful, booby-trapped oasis. Nina's sightless corpse. The hulking, wolflike animals giving chase. Meeting Stacia, Vic, and Tracelyn. The city with its domed building and mazelike streets. The stream where I was forced to kill. Will. Brick's bullets tearing the mutated humans to shreds. Roman's attack. The girl firing at us so near the end. Will shooting Tomas. My desperate attempt to alter the bicycle to get him back to Tosu City. The ride. Wait. My fingers worry away at the sides of Zandri's bracelet as a memory hits. A memory so unimportant next to Will's betrayal or Tomas's wound emptying his blood onto the soil. I needed matches, so I searched Tomas's bag in the dark and found a metal object. An object I believed to be Nina's other bracelet that Tomas must have taken as a remembrance just as I had done. Only, I was wrong. The bracelet belonged to Zandri. How did it end up in Tomas's bag? Of the three and a half weeks it took to complete the fourth test, Tomas and I were together for all but a day and a half. Could he have picked up the bracelet while wandering the streets of Chicago? If so, why didn't he tell me? Did he not want me to know that Zandri had failed the test so soon after it began? Did he fear that I would believe failure was inevitable? Maybe. Tomas would have worried for me. He would have wanted to keep me focused and safe. But I am not sure this is the answer. There was one other time Tomas and I were separated. And I know. The bracelet. The dried blood on Tomas's knife. The haunted look in his eyes. Will's words that Tomas is not who I think he is. The candidate that Will and Tomas met while I was gone. Not some unnamed male from Colorado Springs Colony. Zandri. The pieces click together with a force that knocks the air from my lungs. I can't move. I can't breathe. I can only clutch the bracelet that belonged to the beautiful girl whose talent everyone from Five Lakes Colony admired. The girl who flirted with Tomas. The girl he must have killed. No. My heart doesn't want to believe it. Tomas wouldn't kill anyone. Not unless he didn't have a choice. I left Will and Tomas together. Isn't it more likely that Will, a proven killer, was the one to murder Zandri? Maybe there was some kind of altercation. Maybe . . . The possibilities jumble. The combination of drugs in my system is making it hard for me to think clearly. I get up and walk the length of the room, staring at the bracelet in my hand, trying to uncover the truth behind it. As much as my heart wants to think Tomas had nothing to do with Zandri's murder, his unwillingness to share what happened on that day makes it hard to believe otherwise. Betrayal and fear, anger and heartbreak. The emotions hit hard and fast, buckling my knees, sending me to the floor. But I refuse to cry. The camera is still in the ceiling, and I will not give Dr. Barnes and the officials behind the screen the satisfaction of seeing me break. And, really, aren't they the ones to blame for Zandri's death? They put us in their game and asked us to survive. Whatever Tomas did, I am certain he didn't do it to win a place on the University roster. He must have thought his life was in jeopardy. I jump at a knock on the door. When I open it, I am handed a large tray of food and told the committee is still deliberating. The Testing official leaves, and I hear the sound of the lock sliding into place. And I wait. The meal is extravagant. A large steak charred on the out side but pink and oozing with juices in the middle. There are slices of potato — the version Zeen created — with the skin still on, fried to a golden brown. Cold shrimp is served with tiny slices of lime and a small dish of melted butter. A salad of fresh vegetables and walnuts is tossed with something tangy and sweet. A frosty glass is filled with something clear and bubbly. There is also a clear bottle of water and a piece of cake. This is a meal meant to celebrate making it this far in The Testing. Never have I felt less like celebrating. The camera above makes me cut the steak. I'm certain it is delicious, but it is all I can do to chew and swallow without gagging. I take a drink of the bubbly liquid and immediately put the glass down. Alcohol. The same drink Zeen brought to cheer me on graduation night. Then the drink tasted bitter with disappointment. Today it tastes of home. I drink the water and take tiny sips of the alcohol to keep Zeen close. I eat bits of the salad, but ignore the cake. The idea of celebrating while Zandri's identification bracelet sits in my hand is enough to make me ill. The passage of time is marked by the setting of the sun. I watch as the last rays disappear and wonder if the decision will be made before tomorrow's sunset. An official collects the dinner tray. Once again I hear the loud turn of the lock. With nothing but the moon to keep me company, the minutes drag by. I think about Zandri and Malachi. I analyze every moment of my interview, turning each word over for some clue as to whether I have passed or failed. I fall asleep curled around my Testing bag. The dawn brings a new tray. No decision has been made. The Testing official tells me to be patient before leaving me alone to pace the floor. Trays come. Trays are taken away. No news. I relive my days in The Testing, looking for clues as to what could have propelled Tomas to take Zandri's life, and find nothing. While Zandri was brash and headstrong, I can't imagine her attacking Will or Tomas. She was friends with Tomas. She might have even loved him a little. And now she's dead. Tortured by my waking thoughts, I try to lose myself in sleep, but find Dr. Barnes and the Testing officials waiting for me there, too. One by one they evaluate the performance of the dead candidates. Ryme. Nina. Malachi. Boyd. Gill. Annalise. Nicolette. Roman. Zandri. A pile of bodies lies in the corner when the evaluators turn to me. Dr. Barnes shakes his head. He tells me I showed great promise. It's too bad I trusted the wrong people. Leaders cannot afford that mistake. He tells me I failed as another Testing official pulls out a crossbow, takes aim, and fires. The quarrel punches through my stomach, and I scream myself awake before I hit the floor. Locked in a room with no human contact other than the official who brings my meals, I feel the tension gnawing at me. I pace for hours and then sit for hours more and stare at the walls, willing a decision to be made. But no decision is forthcoming, and a small part of me wonders if this waiting is also a test. Are Dr. Barnes and his friends sitting behind their screens, watching to see how we handle it? Do other candidates pace as I do? Are my nightmares a strike against me or does uninterrupted sleep show an undesirable streak of indifference? I stare at the camera above, not caring if the officials see that I know it is there. Or maybe I want them to know. To see I am smart enough to figure out that they are watching. As sleep eludes me, I think about the candidates who have died, and the memory wipe that is coming if we cannot outsmart it, and wonder for the first time if the candidates who failed the first two rounds of Testing were eliminated or if the Commonwealth simply erased any memory of this experience. Over the past one hundred years, the United Commonwealth population has grown, but has it grown enough to eliminate dozens of its most promising citizens every year? And if those candidates aren't eliminated, where do they go? After the morning tray has come and gone, I tire of the eyes that follow me and the ears listening to my awakening screams. Giving my audience behind the camera a small smile, I probe my bracelet, find the clasp and watch it fall from my wrist onto the bed alongside those that belonged to Zandri and Nina. I remove the second bracelet from my bag, place it with the others, then I take my bag and lock myself in the bathroom. The feeling of being alone — really alone — eases some of the tension from my shoulders. I take a shower. I curl up on the floor and nap. With nothing else to do, I go through the items in my Testing bag. These are things I brought from home. Things my mother sewed. My father touched. My brothers worked with. Things that helped define who I used to be. No longer afraid of being judged by the cameras, I allow my tears to fall as I touch each one and hold it to my cheek, trying to recapture the person who first packed this bag. I miss the hope she felt. The optimism. The brightness of the future in front of her. If Tomas's pills don't work, will taking away the memories of The Testing bring her back? Can losing my memories truly wipe the shadow from my heart? Maybe, and for a moment I allow myself to yearn for that blissful ignorance. Dreams filled with peace. A future free of too much knowledge. I jump at the sound of a male voice and turn to see where it is coming from. It takes me a minute to realize the voice is speaking from the device clutched tight in my hands. "The soil in sector four is showing signs of sustaining life, and the radiation levels are almost nonexistent. The new formula appears to be working. " Zeen. His voice is strong and healthy and so wonderfully familiar. I ache, hearing the sound of it. I must have hit a button that started a playback of Zeen's voice. The Transit Communicator is also a recorder. "Tell Dad there are sick animals in sector seven. Might be from the new berries we cultivated there. We should run tests. " I remember hearing about that problem over dinner — a week or maybe two before my graduation. They argued, laughed, and debated the problem long into the night, even allowing me to add a few thoughts of my own. I felt so grown-up to be included. So ready to take on the world. How silly that seems now. For a while I am content to listen to Zeen's voice as he records his thoughts on the sections outside of Five Lakes that my father and his team are working to revitalize. A disgruntled word makes me laugh. Mentions of Dad or my other brothers cause tears. And I wonder — how does the recorder work? I know the device can communicate with the one Dad has in his office, but I've never heard Dad mention that it doubles as a recorder. It takes me a while to find the button. A small area in the back that looks to be a part of the casing but has been turned into something more. Something not originally designed to be a part of the device. Something created by Zeen. The screwdriver on my pocketknife helps me reveal the rest of his handiwork. I can't help smiling as I admire my brother's ingenuity. A tiny black box has been nestled among the other wires and chips. By the way he spliced and connected the wires, I can see how he rigged the communication microphone to record voices and the earpiece to act as the playback speaker. All of it is done with seamless precision. Had I not squeezed so hard and mistakenly triggered the playback button on the back, I would never have recognized the recording device was there. A knock startles me. Carefully, I slide the items into my Testing bag, go into the darkened bedroom, and open the door. The woman on the other side is holding a tray and wears a concerned expression. "Is everything okay in here?" she asks. I guess my disappearance into the bathroom has not gone unnoticed. "I'm fine," I assure her, but from the commotion coming from down the hall, I fear someone else is not. Has one of the candidates ended the tension like Ryme did? Though I should no longer care, I worry for Tomas. I can't help it. No matter how The Testing has changed him, he will always be the boy from home who was kind to everyone. I want him to live. The Testing official hands me the lunch tray, tells me no decision has been made, and locks the door. For the first time, I don't mind the solitude. I eat the chicken swimming in a delicate tomato sauce and the fresh vegetables before once again closing myself off in the bathroom. For a while I take comfort in my brother's voice as he lists the day-to-day tasks that need addressing. But the reality that another candidate may have died soon has me pacing the floor. Perhaps I should see it as one less candidate standing in my way to the ultimate goal. But I can't. To me it is one more promising mind whose fate will soon be forgotten. Like the others who will be forgotten. Unless someone remembers. If the United Commonwealth and the Testing officials have their way, no one will. At least no one who cares. I look at the device in my hands and have an idea. It takes me a few minutes to figure out which series of buttons starts the recording device. Once I do, I begin to talk. In a quiet and often unsteady voice I remember Malachi. His smile. His shy demeanor. His sweet singing voice and his death. Ryme. Her corncakes. Her cocky attitude. Finding her hanging from the ceiling in our room. The first of the Testing murders. I tell of waking up in the box. Walking out onto the broken streets of Chicago. The crossbow quarrel aimed at me. My terror. How the gun kicked in my hand. I find the recording device can only record so much. I have to pick and choose what I tell. I agonize over which memories to preserve. It breaks my heart when I have to rewind and erase a story to preserve a different one. They all deserve to be remembered, but only a few can. More than once my tears force me to stop the recording. My heart stings. My lungs burn and my throat is raw when the recorder is full. But the memories are there. As much as the machine will hold. For someone to learn and remember. Will they send the device back to my parents if my candidacy is unsuccessful? I doubt it. But maybe I can ask Michal to get it to them if I'm gone. With my pocketknife, I etch a small design in the back of the device before shoving it in my bag. I then pile my clothes and other belongings on top and wash the evidence of my efforts from my face. When the Testing official brings dinner, she again asks after my welfare. I assure her I am fine and take the tray. Before she closes the door she says, "A decision has been made. The next class of University students will be announced after breakfast. " Pass or fail, this will all end tomorrow.