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“I didn’t want to kill him,” Raffe says in a dull voice, his eyes focused on the man whose blood he shares. “I wanted to think that my father wasn’t as much a part of this as Dr. Barnes and the rest. But I was wrong. He is, and he didn’t deserve to live.”
The gun in Raffe’s hand trembles. In the warm light, his face looks pale. Strained. The same expression I’m sure I wore when my knife punched into Damone’s chest. Will told me once that the decision to kill is easy but living with it is hard. I understand those words now better than I did then, which is why I slowly rise and hold out my hand. “Why don’t you give me the gun, Raffe?”
“I’m not going to shoot you, Cia.” His attention does not shift from the ashen face lying at my feet. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”
It’s not me I’m worried about.
“I know.” I keep my voice soft and soothing, the way I used to do when I handled one of the baby animals my father helped bring into the world. “Give me the gun, Raffe. Just for a few minutes. You should go to the kitchen and get some water. That will help.”
Will it? I don’t know. If nothing else it will get him out of this room. Raffe might hate his father now, but from what he has said, I know there was a time he felt love and admiration for the man. Soon those emotions will catch up with him, and when that happens, I’m not sure what Raffe will do.
I take another step forward and uncurl his fingers so the gun drops into my hand. When Raffe doesn’t acknowledge my actions, I push aside my sympathy and sorrow. Yes, he needs to grieve. He needs to come to terms with what he has done. But this is not the time. A large clock on the wall tells me Will’s second explosion should have detonated fifteen minutes ago. Whatever cover those explosions has given us will soon expire. The officials may understand that we are using them as a diversion, and widen their search. Raffe managed to get a large piece of the information we needed from his father. Had he not fired, we might have gotten more. I wish I could have guessed what Raffe would do when he heard the truth. If I had . . .
I push away the regrets. If we survive this, there will be time enough to sort through them. But now we must move on to the second part of our mission—Dr. Barnes. And since I only vaguely know the area he lives in, I cannot get there on my own. I feel uncaring for thinking of more than Raffe at this moment, but it can’t be helped.
I take the recorder out of Raffe’s jacket pocket, switch it to the Off position, and say, “We’ve done as much as we can here. We need to go.”
My words are cold. Hard. Raffe’
s head turns toward mine. Shock and tears glisten in his eyes. For a moment I worry that I will not be able to get him to move. That I will have to leave him behind and continue on my own. His eyes close. His jaw clenches, and when he opens his eyes and nods, the tears are gone.
“You’re right.” He turns his back on his father’s body and heads for the door. “Let’s go.”
Raffe doesn’t look back, but I do. I put the guns I hold in the side pocket of my bag and briefly study the man on the floor. Rychard Jeffries helped shape, revitalize, and educate this country. What he explained to Raffe is terrible, but he must have done good things along the way to achieve the position he held. Raffe’s passion and his dedication to his sister are proof that not everything Rychard Jeffries did was bad. For that alone, he deserves to be remembered.
I find Raffe washing his hands in the kitchen. He offers me a glass of water and I take a drink, then remove the radio from my bag.
The message light is on. Will’s voice tells us that he has completed his part and is headed back toward the house. The rest is up to us. I cannot help the stab of disappointment I feel that the message wasn’t from Tomas. Telling myself that restraining Professor Chen and getting information from her will be more complicated for Stacia and Tomas than what Raffe has just done, I record a response to Will, letting him know we have finished our first stop and are moving on to the second. I then repeat the message for Tomas’s frequency, adding a request for his team to contact us with their status soon. I need to hear his voice.
After returning my radio to the bag, I find Raffe’s gun and hand it back to him. “If you can’t handle the next part, I need to know.”
He opens his bag, pulls out the box of ammunition, and fills the empty slots. After snapping the chamber closed, he runs a hand along the barrel of the gun and shakes his head. “I have to finish what I started.”
So do I.
The sun has set. The houses around us are quiet as we wheel our bicycles down to the street and climb on. The haze in the sky tonight makes it hard to see the moon. The lack of light is good for traveling unseen, but I have to work to make sure I don’t lose sight of Raffe as we ride through the streets in the direction of the University. Dr. Barnes lives in a house close to campus. We will check there for him. Because it is night, there is a good chance we will find his family with him. Just the thought of what we might be forced to do if they are all at home is almost enough to make me stop pedaling. Only thinking about my brother, Daileen, and all those who have died in The Testing keeps me moving forward.
As we ride, I try to catch a glimpse of Raffe’s face to gauge what he’s thinking or feeling. After Zandri’s death, Tomas was quiet. Withdrawn. At the time I thought it was just fatigue or disillusionment with the world around him that caused his depression. But now that I know what happened during my absence, I realize it was because Tomas was struggling with his conscience. Had I not been with him, I doubt he would have continued with the fourth test. Taking a life, especially one he knew and cared for, ate at his desire to save his own until the only purpose he had was helping get me safely to the end. Raffe’s need to find his sister should keep him focused on us getting through the next several hours. After that, who can say what will happen. Perhaps if Emilie is still alive, Raffe will find purpose in bringing her home and helping her recover from whatever she has suffered.
Raffe turns to the left. I follow, although I notice that Raffe is farther ahead than he was before. Despite what has happened, the burst of speed makes clear that he has not lost his endurance. At first that thought encourages me. Then I realize that Raffe is not the one who has changed speed. I have.
I’ve been so concerned with Raffe’s state of mind that I have not noticed the weight that seems to press on me with every turn of the pedals. At the end of the journey to Raffe’s house was death. There had always been a possibility that I would come to Raffe’s aid if he needed me, but it wasn’t necessary. This journey is different. While blood stains my hands, I have never before set out to commit murder. Tonight, I am doing exactly that.
Raffe stops so suddenly, I have to turn my handlebars to avoid crashing into him. “Look,” he says. I squint into the darkness, trying to see what he sees.
Skimmers.
At the other end of the block, traveling toward us without their running lights engaged. The lack of lights is both illegal and dangerous. Neither problem is likely of much concern to those who pilot the vehicles.
“This way,” Raffe whispers, and he leads me off the paved roadway and onto the grass. I cast glances behind me, trying to see if the skimmer pilots have noticed us, but the black of the night makes it hard to tell. Raffe must think there is a chance we have been detected because he doesn’t slow as we ride in between two tall trees a hundred feet from the road. Riding on the rougher terrain has slowed his pace enough for me to keep up.
“This way.”
Raffe darts behind the house to our right and stops. Putting a finger to his lips, he glances around the corner at the street to see if we are being pursued. I hold my breath. A minute passes. Two. Then I hear the hum of engines moving closer, but from the sound I can’t tell if they are leaving the street or traveling along it. Finally I see a shadow darker than the rest slowly moving along the road toward the east. It’s small. The same size as the skimmers we used during our Induction, although I am certain this one is faster and in better repair. A second skimmer appears. Raffe points out a third. The seeming lack of urgency suggests they are performing a basic patrol. Three patrols in one location seems excessive on a normal day, but I am not surprised to see them congregated here, since we are near so many of the dwellings where top officials reside. We were lucky not to have run into more trouble on Raffe’s block.
Or were we?
I see the skimmers stop and watch as one by one they turn around and head back in the direction from which they came. If they were on basic patrol, they would keep going to secure the rest of the neighborhood. These Safety officials are guarding something. Since Dr. Barnes’s house is only a hundred yards away, I can guess what that something is.
