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Raffe must agree, because he grabs his things and is right behind me as I hurry into the hall. We are halfway down the stairs when a door somewhere below us closes.
I turn off my flashlight and consider our options. Going upstairs will get us out of sight, but this is the only staircase down. If we hide in one of the second-story rooms, we risk being stuck in our hiding place. So I hurry down the stairs as quickly as I can. The front door is only about twenty steps to the right, but when I calculate the time it will take to get there, unlock the door, and get out, I discard that option. Especially since I hear the sound of footsteps from somewhere in the back of the house.
Grabbing Raffe’s hand, I race down the last six stairs, race to my left, and duck behind the sofa. Raffe joins me just as the lights in this area flare to life.
“You two, stay here,” a familiar voice says quietly.
Symon. If he’s here, what happened to Zeen?
Raffe stiffens beside me. He too has recognized the voice.
The carpet dulls the sound of footsteps as Symon climbs the stairs, but what I do hear makes me think more than one person made the ascent. A few minutes later, Symon calls down, “He’s not here yet. We’ll wait. Turn off the lights. One of you go to each end of the block and hold that position. The minute you see him, signal me.”
The lights blink out. Footsteps disappear down the hallway, toward the back of the house. A door slams upstairs. The minute Raffe hears that, he peers around the side of the sofa. He waits for a moment and then whispers, “Stay there,” as he slips out from behind the couch. Several seconds later he returns, taps me on the shoulder, and motions for me to follow him.
Slowly we cross the dark room, careful to steer clear of the furnishings and avoid making noise. I want to go up the stairs, demand to know where my brother is, and pu
t a bullet in Symon’s head. But if Symon sets off Dr. Barnes’s trap, I don’t want to be caught in it too. I brush my fingers along the wall to guide me and am relieved when the hall opens into the kitchen.
When I head for the door, Raffe grabs my hand and whispers, “We have to split up. If you move fast, the two people he sent to guard the ends of the street won’t yet be in position. You’ll get out of the area without being seen and be able to get back to campus. Go to The Testing Center. I’ll deal with Symon. You have to find Dr. Barnes.”
“You saw what’s in his office. You can’t go up there.”
“Symon’s working with him. He has to know about the bomb. There’s no choice. We have to eliminate him.”
“Then I’ll stay.” If Symon knows anything about Zeen, I might be able to find that out before I pull the trigger.
Raffe shakes his head. “The minute a gun is fired, the guards will come running. Knowing this neighborhood is the only thing that’s going to help me get away.” He walks me toward the door and takes my hand. “This is our only shot at getting them both. You know I’m right.”
I don’t want to agree, but I do. Raffe has a better chance alone. I have to trust him to do this. Just as he is trusting me.
“I’ll see you soon,” I whisper.
Raffe leans forward. His lips press against my cheek. His fingers tighten around mine as he whispers, “You will. Be careful when you get to campus. The rebel students could cause you more problems than the Safety officials. And just in case something goes wrong here, I need you to do something for me. Find my sister and tell her I’m sorry. I never thought I’d trust someone the way I trusted Emilie, let alone someone from the colonies. But I believe in you. You’ll do what’s right.”
Then he’s gone. He slips into the shadows of the hallway. Out of sight.
Outside, the breeze is cool on my face. I close the door quietly behind me and slowly look from side to side. When I see and hear nothing, I consider which way to go. Since the guards are posted to the west and east, I run north and realize why Symon did not worry about someone approaching from this direction. Fifty yards from the house is a large wall that stands at least eight feet high and spans the length of this block. The barrier is made of smooth stone. There is nowhere to get a good handhold, and I can’t reach the top without a boost.
Squinting into the darkness, I spot a tree about twenty feet away and head for it. The willow tops the wall by five or six feet. The tree is fairly young. Probably about four years old. I pull on one of the lower-hanging branches. It’s thin. Supple. Not ideal for climbing, but this is the only one I see that is close set enough to the stone wall to be of help.
Still, the tree stands about eight feet away, which means I will have to climb as high as possible for this to work. I shift my bag so it doesn’t get caught on the branches, put one foot on the trunk, and pull myself up. The lowest-hanging limb bends under my weight but doesn’t break.
I reach as close to the top as I dare, position my feet on two V’s near the trunk where the branches are sturdiest, and take a deep breath. The sound of gunshots makes me flinch. Raffe. I force myself not to look behind me. Instead I grab the thin center of the tree as the branch under my left foot breaks and smashes to the ground.
I hear shouts. More shots. The limbs sag as I quickly step from one fork to another. At the third fork, I push off hard and extend my arms as I jump toward the wall. My chest makes contact with the top of the stone barrier. I bite my lip to prevent myself from crying out as I start to slide down. The stone grates against my fingers but I refuse to let go. My arms tremble. Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I almost lose my grip as an explosion roars behind me. I finally find a good holding spot with my boots and use my leg muscles to propel me up and over. Before I drop to the other side, I catch a glimpse of smoke and licks of fire coming from Dr. Barnes’s house. I allow myself five seconds of hope as I scan the area for Raffe before I let go of my grip, drop to the other side, and run.
I race across the grass, run between two houses, and reach the street on the other side. Beams from flashlights cut through the darkness as people awakened by the sounds come out of their homes.
Everyone looks scared. I’m certain I do. Between the spectacle of the fire and the fear, no one gives me a second look as I walk quickly down the street. Away from the flames. Away from Raffe. If he survived the explosion, he might at this very moment need my help. But I do not turn, because he would never forgive me for risking our mission. As I walk, I can only wonder who will be next and if anything we do is worth the price paid.
When I can no longer hear the shout of voices, I duck under a bush and pull out the Transit Communicator. I select the coordinates for the Government Studies residence that I saved in the device during Induction. I am a half mile from campus. If I start walking now, I should be there in less than ten minutes. I look at the moon and try to judge the time that has passed since Tomas, Stacia, Raffe, and I left the house. Two hours? Three? It seems impossible that so much has happened in so little time. Raffe is probably dead. Zeen still does not answer my calls. Tomas and Stacia were okay when Tomas left his message, but who knows where they are now.
I push to my feet. My legs tremble as I shift my bag back onto my shoulder and start walking. Slowly at first, then faster until I am running as fast as I can. The sooner I find Dr. Barnes, the sooner everything will be over. The Testing. The experiments on Raffe’s sister and the other failed students. The deaths I’ve been asked to execute. All of it. It has to end.
My lungs burn. My pulse pounds. Both make me feel alive. It isn’t until I see familiar landmarks that tell me I am only a block from the University gates that I slow. I click the Call button on the Communicator one last time, not caring if Zeen speaks and someone else overhears. I need to hear his voice. But the device stays silent. I feel a part of my heart go still as I slide it back into my bag and exchange it for the pulse radio. The indicator light is dark. Recording a whispered message, I tell Tomas, Stacia, and Will that I am currently headed to where we began this journey. Then I press Send. Instead of putting the radio back in my bag, I slide it into my jacket pocket to keep the thought of Tomas close, and I start moving through the shadows.
The archway of the University entrance comes into view. Seeing it again, I remember how I felt the first time I rode beneath it. Tomas, Malachi, and Zandri were beside me as we spotted the wrought-iron sign that reads THE UNIVERSITY OF THE UNITED COMMONWEALTH. Despite my father’s warnings, I felt excitement and hope. I do not cross under the archway now. If anyone suspects I’m on my way here, this is where they will wait. Instead, I head toward the TU Administration building on the edge of campus.
