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Three miles.
I ask Tomas if he can balance on the bicycle without hanging on to my waist. When he agrees to try, I unfasten the rope and stand to apply more force with each push.
Two miles.
Tomas starts to lose his balance, and I sit back down. I reattach the rope and keep pedaling.
One mile.
I see purple and red in the distance. Testing officials are waiting for us. The end. They have to be standing at the end. Behind the people the buildings of Tosu City sparkle and shimmer as they climb into the sky. Tomas’s head slumps against my back. I feel his weight pull against the rope, but I can’t stop. If I do, I might never get him back onto the bicycle. I doubt he could survive me dragging him to the end.
With one hand, I balance Tomas’s unconscious body as I use my other to steer. My arm, my muscles, every part of me is on fire. But I won’t give in to the pain or the fatigue. My feet keep moving. The people in the distance come into focus. I see smiles. A few concerned expressions. They all stand behind a white line. The finish line.
I ignore the people and focus on the line. I will it to come closer as I push my feet over and over again. We are so close when I feel Tomas slide to the left. My injured arm doesn’t have the strength to catch him and pull him upright. Because we are strapped together, his momentum pulls me off the seat and we crash together to the ground. I hear gasps. A few cries of worry. I see Dr. Barnes standing at the front of the group, wearing an expression of mild interest. Not one person comes to our aid. The white line is less than fifty feet away, and from their place behind it the Testing officials stand and watch.
I know I am tired and sca
red and in pain, but at this moment all I can feel is rage. It is white and hot and powerful. I look at each face and vow to make them pay for Ryme and Malachi and all the others. For the girl whose name I don’t know but whose body I buried. For the watchers who were gunned down without provocation. And for Tomas and these fifty lousy feet that are so damn important to the Testing officials that they would watch him die after all he has survived.
I untie the rope and push myself off the ground. Carefully, I unstrap the bags from the rack, sling them both over my shoulder, and on shaking legs walk over to Tomas. I refuse to look at our audience as I roll him onto his back. He moans as I slide my hands under him. The sound tells me he is alive. I plan to keep him that way as I grab his arms and pull. I lean backwards to use my weight as leverage. Inch by impossibly slow inch I slide him, my eyes fixed on the hard black pavement. Twice I have to put him down to catch my breath. When I look up, I see another Testing candidate appear on the distant horizon. The sight urges me on.
And then I see it. A solid snow-white line slashing across the black of the asphalt. The finish line. One last pull. I watch Tomas’s feet cross the threshold and sink to the ground next to him as Dr. Barnes’s smooth voice says, “Congratulations, Malencia Vale. You and Tomas Endress have passed the fourth test.”
Chapter 20
ONE HUNDRED AND eight candidates entered the Testing Center in hopes of attending the University. Today twenty-nine of us sit in the dining room, although the whispers we hear in the halls tell us there is still a chance more will arrive.
Testing officials tell me it has been nine days since I crossed the white line and passed the fourth test. I’ve been unconscious for most of those days. Turns out, the poison in my arm put me in far more danger than I realized. Had I not squeezed most of the toxin out of the wound, I would be dead now. As it was, it took the doctors several hours to determine whether the medications they pumped into me would clear the remaining poison from my system. An accelerated healing tool helped close the wound, but the damage the contamination caused to the tissue prevented the tool from also removing the scars. I will be forever marked by The Testing, as if that was ever in doubt.
Tomas fared better with his wounds. Whatever medical advancements they used left him free from scars. Although, from the way he and Will look at each other, I wonder if more scars aren’t inevitable. I’m thankful Testing protocol dictates that all weapons be removed from the candidates’ possession immediately after the completion of the fourth test. This rule is the only reason I can close my eyes at night.
I see Will’s eyes following me from across the room. When he notices me watching him, he gives me a smile and winks. He’s seated with a group of candidates, most of whom I’ve never spoken to. One is Brick. He has yet to speak to me and I am glad because I am not sure I could speak without seeing the massacre he wrought in my name. I wonder if he understands that the lives he took were human and if their bloody faces haunt his dreams the way they do mine.
On the other side of the room is Stacia. Her face is just as unreadable as it was during the test. She doesn’t sit with her travel companion, Vic, but instead is seated alone. Redheaded Vic is seated far across the room. Tracelyn, the girl who missed her boyfriend and so badly wanted to be a teacher, is nowhere to be found. I can only guess that whatever happened to her is the reason for the haunted look in Vic’s eyes and the knowing smile on Stacia’s lips.
Tomas and I do not talk to the others as we wait for the fourth test to end and the final interviews to begin. We spend mealtimes together and, when allowed, walk the grounds outside. In between talk of home, Tomas whispers in my ear that he might have found a way to retain our memories. While he was in the hospital, he overheard his doctors talking to a Testing official about the medication he and some of the other wounded candidates were taking. The Testing official was concerned because the medication had been known to interfere with the upcoming Testing procedures. He insisted Tomas and the others be strictly monitored so their systems will be clear of the drugs by the time the final University selections are made.
“They thought I was sleeping. The next time the nurses brought my medication, I pretended to take it. I managed to save one of my pills. I’m going to try to get a few more during the next couple medical checks. Some of the nurses are more easily distracted than others. It’ll depend on which ones I get.”
I’m not surprised that Tomas’s dimpled smile and clear gray eyes could distract the nurses from their duties. His kisses are certainly a distraction to me. Over the next two days, Tomas adds one more pill to his stash and five more candidates cross the white finish line. Each time one walks in, I feel my heart lift—hoping the last of the Five Lakes candidates has made it back. But it is never Zandri’s face in the doorway. And when an announcement comes during dinner, telling us interviews will begin tomorrow, I know she won’t be returning.
That night Zandri joins the cast of my nightmares. Her blond hair is spread out on the cracked brown earth. Her mouth open with surprise as birds peck away pieces of her eyes.
My eyes snap open as I bite back a scream. It takes me several minutes to realize I’m in the Testing Center. No longer on the plains. No longer in danger. Then I remember.
The interviews are today. The danger is far from over.
I stare at the ceiling, holding my Testing bag until dawn breaks. Without a roommate, I don’t need to sleep with the bag, but old habits die hard. When light streams through the window, I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and head to the bathroom. I take a shower and then dig through the pocket of the pants I wore yesterday. My fingers close over the vial containing the liquid I was instructed to drink before my interview. As promised, it was among my possessions when I was released from the medical facility.
Sitting on the floor, I roll the vial between my fingers and think back to the gray-haired man’s words.
Before the interview begins, they will give you a drug to encourage you to answer the questions honestly, without holding back anything you wish to keep secret.
I said then that I had nothing to hide, but I was wrong. While I personally might not be in danger from my answers, others could be. If Testing officials ask about my father, Zeen, or our former teacher there is a chance my answers could betray or condemn. If this vial offers a chance at keeping them safe, I have to take it. Unless, of course, I believe Dr. Barnes and his Testing officials planted this drug in my hands as one more test? Will consuming it be punishable by illness or death? I wouldn’t put it past them. I have a choice to make. Do I drink the liquid or leave it untouched?
By the time the loudspeaker announces breakfast, I have yet to make a decision. But one will be required of me and fast. Soon they will wonder why I haven’t left my room and ask questions I can ill afford to answer. I have to decide what I believe.
I unstop the vial, then drink the contents. My family’s safety comes first. If this is the wrong answer, I will know soon enough. Grabbing my bag, I climb to my feet and head toward whatever the day will bring. For good or for ill, The Testing will end today.
