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We walk by the broken fences and walls, looking at signs. Lions. Baboons. Zebras. Animals we have heard of but never seen. There are also pictures of animals we can’t put names to. The path circles to the right. More animal pens. More less than healthy trees. Decayed buildings that none of us wish to venture near in case more traps are set. Somewhere in the distance, we hear a shout. Of dismay? Triumph? The only thing we can be sure of is that at least one other team is nearby.
We’re about to follow the path to the right when Enzo spots a large sign on a collapsed fence to our left. The picture and words are faded, but despite time and dirt, we can see the letters: D NI GOR LA FOR ST. No one has a clue what the first word could be, but we all think it’s a good bet the final two are gorilla forest.
The path to the left curves in between the broken walls of two buildings. The single-story stone structure on the right still stands, although the way the walls are slanted makes me think it won’t be upright for long. To our left is a cone-shaped roof sitting atop a pile of splintered wood and broken rock. We pass between them, scramble over a fallen tree that is blocking the path, and come to a long suspension bridge that stretches over a river. On the other side is a mostly intact structure surrounded by a tall stone fence. Unlike the rest of the zoo, the bridge is in good repair. Strong metal cables. Thick wooden planks. Rope railings on either side.
Will looks at the bridge and back at me. “What do you think?”
I put my hand on the rope railing and push down to test its strength. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure we could get to the other side.”
“Probably the same people who set the trap in the monkey cage.” Will cautiously places a foot onto the bridge. “Let’s hope I don’t end up dangling from my ankles this time.”
Will takes several steps and then jumps up and down. When the bridge holds, the rest of us follow. The water below is a murky brown. Contaminated, but probably drinkable if we get desperate. I hope we finish this part of the Induction task and move on before we have to test that out.
We reach the end of the suspension bridge and hear voices. Several of them. Beyond the stone fence. And though I can’t make out the words, I understand the tone. At least one team is still in the zoo, and whoever they are, they aren’t happy.
I scale a tree next to the wall and peer over. The area behind the fence is filled with rocks, leafless trees, and gray dirt. The lack of grass and the condition of the trees speak of more severe contamination. The final years must have picked this location for that reason. Knowing we have to finish this task quickly or risk illness adds to the pressure we’ll be working under. Standing near one of the trees are Griffin, Raffe, and their two other team members. Griffin’s eyes are narrowed and his mouth curled in a snarl as he shouts something at the only girl on their team. He stands at least six inches taller, but the girl doesn’t shrink from the confrontation. Instead, she points to a large wooden chest on the ground and shouts back. The chest is marked with a large white 1. Three more dark brown trunks marked with the numbers 2 through 4 sit nearby.
“This is the place,” I say, and hoist myself up to the top of the wall. Griffin’s team goes silent as my feet hit the ground. They say nothing as, one by one, my teammates jump down. Together, we cross to the chest marked 3. When I nod at Enzo, he flips the lid open. Inside is another, smaller trunk. Sitting on top of that trunk is a gray envelope. Enzo hands me the envelope. I open it, slide out a folded piece of paper, and read. “Complete the puzzle to receive your team’s marker and the clue to the next location.”
Enzo flips the lid on the next trunk and we peer inside. A small metal box. On the side of the box is a keypad. Next to the box is a piece of paper with instructions that read Input the answers to the questions into the keypad to unlock the box. Answer carefully. A wrong answer will result in a sixty-minute time penalty before your team can attempt to answer again. Try not to be wrong twice.
I glance at Griffin’s team, who watch us from the little shade they find under a barren tree. They must have answered the question wrong and are now waiting for their chance to try again. And each second they wait, they increase their exposure to the contaminants that twist the trees and turn even the clover a sickly yellow. I wonder if they realize the danger. Growing up in the revitalized city might have made them less aware of the signs of chemical corruption. I consider warning them, but my team has already begun to work on the task: a physics problem in three parts.
The first part asks the time it takes for a stone thrown horizontally to hit the ground if thrown at a rate of 5 meters per second from a cliff 67.4 meters high. Part two wants to know the distance the stone will land from the base of the cliff. The last question asks us to calculate the stone’s final velocity, both magnitude and direction, when it hits the ground.
We ignore the four sets of eyes staring sullenly at us, and using sticks for pencils and the ground to write on, we get to work. Immediately, it is clear advanced physics is not Will’s or Damone’s strongest subject. Still, they check and double-check Enzo’s and my answers until all four of us agree. While the answers weren’t easy, the trickiest part is how to type them into the keyboard. Should our answers use abbreviations for meters per second, or should we spell out entire words? The wrong choice will mean keeping Griffin and his team company until we are allowed to try again.
Since all of our teachers have always used abbreviations in class, we opt to use them now. Enzo quietly reads the answers aloud, and I punch them in on the keyboard. When all three answers have been given, I hold my breath and press Enter.
There is a click and the box opens. Will and Enzo exchange high-fives. Damone stands off to the side and smiles at Griffin and company as I remove a gray envelope and a red disk marked with the number 3 from the box. Glancing at the other team, I suggest we wait to read the next clue until we are alone. When no one objects, I slide both objects into my University bag and head back to the stone wall.
Will gives Enzo a boost and then scrambles over the wall. As Damone hoists himself up, I hear the sound of a bell. Griffin and his team are hurrying back to their box. Their time penalty must have come to an end.
My fingers cling to rock. My feet propel me upward. I am about to swing my leg over the top of the wall when Griffin shouts. I look over my shoulder in time to see a flash of light. Surprise loosens my grip as something explodes.
Chapter 8
HITTING THE GROUND knocks the air from my lungs. Struggling to breathe, I roll to my side and peer through a haze of smoke toward the screams coming from behind me. Something is on fire.
No. Not something. Someone.
Pushing to my feet, I pull my bags up onto my shoulders and run. My heart pounds with each step. A female shriek for help cuts through the air. As I get closer, I see Raffe batting at flames streaking up his left arm. The girl keeps screaming. Griffin strips off his shirt and uses it to smother the fire as the other boy looks on. Immobile. Frozen by fear.
When I reach him, Raffe is cradling his injured arm close to his body. His jaw is clenched in pain. Griffin’s eyes narrow as I pull a towel and a bottle of water out of my bags and ask him to help me clean and bandage the wound. Despite his suspicion, he takes Raffe’s uninjured arm and helps ease him to the ground. Using my pocketknife, I cut away the singed fabric of Raffe’s sleeve and examine the patch of angry flesh that stretches from just above his wrist to below the elbow. The wound must be painful, but it’s not as bad as it could have been. The loose fit of the shirt helped keep the flame far enough from his flesh to prevent blisters or worse. Tomas’s brother was once burned when a tractor’s engine caught fire. Those burns took months to heal. This will cause Raffe discomfort, but shouldn’t slow him down too badly. Especially if he keeps the injury clean.
I rip the towel into several pieces and wet the first with water. Raffe clenches his teeth as I clean the burn. I start to bandage it when I hear, “You should use this first.”
Enzo holds out a small white tube of anti-infection ointment. He must have packed it in his University bag when they instructed us to be prepared. I’m thankful he did. I spread the cool ointment onto Raffe’s arm and see some of the tension leave his shoulders. When I’m done, I hand the tube back to Enzo, wrap the makeshift bandage around Raffe’s arm, and tie it in place.
Raffe touches his injured arm with his right hand and looks up at me. “Thanks. You didn’t have to come back and help.”
“Yes.” I meet Raffe’s eyes and then glance at the others on his team, who are looking at me with various levels of anxiety, anger, and distrust. “Yes, I did.” To do any less would be against everything my parents taught me. Would dishonor the colony I grew up in. “Keep the burn clean, avoid touching the yellow patches of
dirt around here, and you should be fine. We have to get going.”
Raffe nods, and I follow my teammates back to the wall. As I throw my leg over, I hear him yell, “Just so you know, we’re still going to beat you to the end.”
I can’t help but laugh and yell back, “You can try,” before dropping to the other side.
