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A quick study of the bridge support nearest our position gives me a good idea of how the retractable bridge works. The mechanism on each support is designed to slide each half of the bridge backward on iron tracks when it is retracted. When it is raised, the system first elevates the bridge ninety degrees. Then a separate machine must slide forward to provide the support necessary to withstand the weight of both the bridge and those who cross it. Once both sides of the bridge are raised, they hook together seamlessly. At least, I never saw the seams. The looks on my teammates’ faces say I wasn’t the only one who missed that detail. I find that of little consolation when I realize the controls for the bridge are all located on the other side.
Enzo walks to the small black box marked with our number and pulls out the instructions for this task. “Come home.” He looks at the hole in the earth, the missing bridge, the supplies, and then back at the note. “Are they kidding? They want us to get across that? There’s no way.”
“If they want us to cross the ravine, there has to be a way to do it without getting ourselves killed,” I say with confidence. This isn’t The Testing. They won’t kill students in full view of other students. But they aren’t going to make it easy, either.
Will reaches into the pile and fingers a large length of thick rope. “We might be able to hoist this side of the bridge up with this.”
Enzo shakes his head. “The bridge is probably locked into place. But even if it isn’t, we aren’t strong enough to lift that kind of weight.”
Will frowns. “My brother and I helped a neighbor of ours build a rope bridge over a stream a couple years ago. We used trees to anchor the bridge on either side. The supports for the bridge that normally spans this are still here. We can use those.”
“Brilliant. Of course, the only way to use the anchor on the other side is to be over there to attach the rope to the bridge.” Damone rolls his eyes. “Which would eliminate the need for building the bridge in the first place.”
He’s right. While building a bridge is something I’ve never done, I understand the basic physics involved. The supports that are already in place will be strong enough to hold up whatever we build if we could attach
it properly, but there is no way we can do that. And while I don’t think the University officials intend to watch us plunge to our deaths, I doubt they will lift a finger to prevent it. There has to be another solution.
“Why don’t we break into teams of two?” I suggest. “One group can go north. The other south. Maybe we’ll find a better place for us to get across.” I doubt it, but the possibility needs to be explored.
Will and Damone take the south. Enzo and I go north. We start out at a fast clip, certain we will find a way to cross the twenty-foot chasm of brown and gray rock and dirt that is between us and our destination. The crack begins to narrow, and Enzo and I smile at each other as we hurry ahead. That’s when we see it. Another rent in the earth that juts off from this fissure toward the west. Even if the fissure we are standing next to narrows enough for safe passage, we would still be forced to cross another gaping barrier. Crossing here will not be possible. We can only hope Damone and Will have had better luck on their scouting mission and have remembered I hold all the markers. If they have found a way across and have not waited for Enzo and me to go with them, they will still fail.
One look at their dejected faces tells the story. More barriers lie to the south. If we want to get to the finish line, we will have to cross here. And night is falling fast.
My three teammates study the building supplies and tools as I once again examine the supports and machinery. I shake my head. My skill is with machines. If the bridge’s controls were on this side, I’m certain I could make it rise. But they aren’t. And even if I could make the gears fire, I’m not sure I should try. Without our fully understanding how the mechanism works or how the two pieces of the bridge lock into place, attempting to cross the ravine could be akin to suicide. I’ve survived too much to allow University officials to push me into doing something stupid. And crossing on a contraption created with the tools and supplies provided would be even crazier. We could do calculations for days and still not be positive that the forces created by our weight and that of the bridge will balance with the upward force and properly absorb torque. A few more years studying with the professors here, and we might be able to pull this off. But now? How can anyone expect any of us to succeed at this task? They must realize it is impossible. Is that what Professor Holt and the others are waiting for? For us to fail? Why? What purpose would teaching us defeat serve? They want us to be leaders. Leaders are required to find solutions no matter what.
Or are they?
Bombs were dropped. Millions of people killed. A world destroyed because the leaders of our country and those around the globe were not willing to declare failure. They could not admit that the path they had embarked on was doomed. Instead, they forged ahead. More bombs. More destruction. More need to prove that they were right. That others were wrong.
I think about the Induction thus far. It has required us to carefully think through answers before putting them into action. To trust when trust is not only hard, but potentially deadly. To speak as an equal with the head of our government. All skills essential for government leaders. As is learning when to say enough is enough.
Turning my back on those who watch, I walk over to where a tree stands thirty feet away and sit. After leaning back against the tree, I open the green team bag and take out my bottle of water.
“What are you doing?” Damone yells as he notices me seated on the grass. “You should be helping us figure out how we’re going to get to the other side.”
“He’s right, Cia.” Enzo frowns. “The only way we’re going to beat this task is if we work together.”
“We’re not going to beat it.” I nod at the cluster of observers across the way. “They don’t expect us to, so there’s no point in giving them the satisfaction of seeing us try and come up short.”
“They wouldn’t have given us this task if there wasn’t a way to pass it.” Damone throws a plank to the ground and grabs a hammer. He takes three steps toward me, eyes bright with anger. The hammer wielded like a weapon. “I am not going to fail this test because some girl from the colonies doesn’t want to make the effort to win. Get the hell up or you’ll be sorry that Will and Enzo were too soft to leave you trapped in that box where you belonged.”
Damone lashes out with the hammer, and I scramble back out of its path. “Are you crazy?” I yell.
He starts to swing again and is brought up short by a hand grabbing his wrist and yanking the hammer free.
Will’s jaw is clenched and his eyes glitter with violence. This is the Will from The Testing. “Move away from her now, or you’re going to be sorry.”
“Let go of me.” Damone tries to yank his arm free. “My father is going to hear about this. Do you remember who my father is?”
Will holds fast. “I don’t care who your father is, but he might care that his son is so weak he had to be saved by a colony girl. She saved your life. She’s smarter than you. Than all of us put together. And you can’t stand it.” He releases his grip on Damone’s wrist, but keeps the hammer tight in his fist.
Damone rubs his arm where Will’s fingers dug into his flesh and scowls.
“Now, if you’re done demonstrating your lack of control to our viewing audience, Cia will explain why she thinks we can’t get across. I know I’m dying to hear it. I mean, while I’d love to impress the professors, I don’t plan on risking my life in order to do it.” His mouth curves into a half smile. “But I would be happy to risk yours, Damone, if you want.”
The smile. The hammer held confidently in Will’s hand. Both scare the crap out of me. Damone, however, doesn’t look scared. He appears on the verge of rage. But Will, as is typical, has said the right thing. Damone shifts his eyes to the people across the way watching our every move. His jaw clenches. His breathing is fast and uneven as he fights for control. Something he probably hasn’t had to do very often. And he wins that battle—for now.
“Okay.” He blows out air. “I’m not saying Cia is right, but I’ll listen.” Damone looks back at the wide stretch of emptiness behind him. “Prove to me that the final years don’t intend for us to be able to get across this on our own.”
