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I’m careful to keep my tread light so no one nearby hears me as I walk through the darkness, listening for sounds of officials or rebels lurking nearby and thinking of the day I left Five Lakes Colony. Before The Testing. When I trusted others but was not always sure I trusted myself.
Heading toward where this all started, I think I finally understand why The Testing was created. In a time when each decision could mean the difference between a country rebuilt and one that becomes too broken to repair, the founders of The Testing were not willing to trust anyone’s best intentions. They needed leaders who were not just smart or kind or nice, but who were capable of making the tough choices that most people would not want to make. Of putting necessity above all else and acting on it without hesitation.
Stacia is right. President Dalton faltered. His wasn’t the worst mistake, but historians say that by the Fourth Stage of War it was clear that peace talks had no chance of prevailing. Despite so many deaths and so much destruction, the leaders of the main alliances still believed their desire for conquest could be fulfilled. They had invested too much to step back. Doing so would have been akin to admitting they were wrong. The only measure that could have stopped the Fourth Stage from progressing would have been to eliminate the leaders who were marching the world toward destru
ction. Had that happened, perhaps those who took their place could have seen the futility of the devastation around them and taken steps to end the war.
But that didn’t happen. The leaders pushed forward with their war and the world collapsed. The United Commonwealth rose from the ashes of that world, and The Testing was created to ensure that leaders would not fail like that again. But while The Testing seeks to push candidates to show what they are capable of, it fails to recognize that different circumstances bring about different results. The Testing committee believed I should be cast as one who failed because I couldn’t do what was necessary. How I passed is still a mystery, but the journey I make now shows how wrong they were.
The sound of boots slapping against pavement hits me, and I slip behind a bush. The footsteps are somewhere to my left. I squint into the darkness and spot two people racing south. Officials? Rebels? There’s no way to know. When they disappear, I wait for several minutes before walking in the opposite direction. I see the edge of the fence in the distance and hurry to reach it. When I do, I’m glad for the lack of windows in the back of the TU Administration building and I slip around the fence onto campus.
Gunshots sound in the distance. A siren starts to wail as more gunfire erupts. I flatten myself behind a bush and wait. A scream rises above the din. Other voices shout and more shots are fired. All of it sounds as if it is taking place on the other side of campus. When another round of gunfire rings out from somewhere far to my left, I clasp the gun and stand.
Careful to keep to the shadows, I cross behind the building and head toward the stadium, trying not to think of what happened there only yesterday. But I do think of Tomas. Is he safe? The radio light stays dark.
Just past the stadium I see it. Five stories tall and almost hidden in the darkness because of its black steel and black glass exterior. The fence that surrounds the area around it also blends into the night, but I know it is there along with the small bronze sign that announces the purpose of the work that takes place inside.
The Testing Center.
The last time I was inside that building, Dr. Barnes announced that the twenty of us seated in the room with him had been accepted to the University. Tomas and I were together. Without my memories of The Testing I had just passed through, I was happy.
I spot a figure standing in the shadows near the front of the building and go still. Without getting closer I can’t determine whether the man is one of the rebel students or a Safety official. But all the activity to the south has not pulled his attention, so I know he will not be drawn away easily. I will have to find a way around him or another way inside.
A back door or windows on the main floor would allow me to enter without being seen. I don’t recall the presence of either, but I circle around to the back of the building to check. The black fence that surrounds the building grounds is only chest high and easy to scale. Once on the other side, I confirm what I hoped was not true. The guarded entrance is the only way inside.
As silently as possible, I cross the area behind The Testing Center. The upper-story windows are darkened, making it impossible to know if Dr. Barnes is inside. Have I ever seen light coming from the windows here? I don’t think so. The only time I remember being outside this building during The Testing was in the daytime, when we were waiting for the results of the first test and they allowed us to go outside. Zandri, Malachi, Tomas, and I sat near a small pond. As I approach that spot now, I remember how Zandri’s hair caught the sunlight and the way she made Malachi laugh. Last year the fountain in the middle of the pond was broken. To pass the time, Tomas and I worked together to repair it. The fountain is currently turned off, and I wonder if there’s a way to use it to create a diversion.
The gunfire has stopped, but the siren still sounds as I find the power box nestled discreetly in a pile of rocks. As I did months ago, I remove the cover with the screwdriver attachment of my pocketknife, and this time use my flashlight to view the contents. Everything looks as it did when Tomas and I fixed the fountain last summer, and I think I should be able to make the motor whine and grind enough to attract the guard’s notice.
It takes several tries to make the adjustments to the motor, wrap long pieces of grass around the impeller blade, and block the water-return pump in a way that will cause the now-hindered motor to be even more overworked. The combination should tax the machinery to produce rumbling and a high-pitched whine. Or the motor might overheat and stop working altogether. There’s only one way to find out which.
After taking a deep breath, I get ready to run and hit the power switch. The water gurgles in the fountain as I dash toward the building. The sound of the grinding motor begins as I edge my way along the back of the building toward the north side. The motor lets out a screech loud enough to be heard over the siren. It only lasts for a few seconds before the damage I did causes the motor to give out with a loud bang.
Was the noise enough?
Yes! I hear footsteps and duck around the corner of the building as whoever was in the front now looks for the source of the sound. Hoping to get inside before he returns, I race to the entrance, but I start to panic as I see the small keypad next to the door. I remember Michal using a code with six numbers to gain us entry, but I didn’t see what they were. Even if I had, I doubt they have remained the same. I turn away from the pad and focus my attention on the lock above the door handle, hoping I can jimmy it before the guard returns.
The sound of running feet and the voice yelling for me to stop tell me I’m too late. I do the only thing I can. I turn, aim at the Safety official as he raises his weapon, and fire.
I meant to hit the man’s leg. Instead, my bullet punches into his stomach. His weapon goes off as he hits the ground, and I press against the door behind me and feel it give way. The lock wasn’t engaged. The man behind me groans in pain. I want to help him, but I tamp down that instinct and step through the doorway. Between the unlocked door and the man I shot lying on the ground outside, someone will soon discover I am here. I have to find Dr. Barnes, fast.
Clicking my flashlight, I shine it around the building’s entrance. Everything in the lobby is as I remember it. White walls. Scuffed gray floor. Gray wooden chairs in the corner. The Testing storage room and personal preparation rooms are on this floor. I will not find Dr. Barnes in those. If he is in this building, he will be on one of the upper floors. I run down the long white and gray hallway to the bank of elevators we rode during The Testing to reach the upper four floors.
But I don’t want to be trapped inside an elevator if someone discovers that I am here. So I walk past them, down the hall, looking for stairs.
I find them at the end of the corridor and begin to climb. The building is large. The task of finding someone in this place is daunting. When I reach the second floor, I step out into the hallway and shine my light down the corridor. I could search floor by floor, and I will if I have to. But for now I follow my instincts, turn back to the stairs, and climb to the third floor. It was on this floor that Dr. Barnes spoke to us about each phase of The Testing and gave us each set of instructions. This level was also the location of our interviews. It was during mine that I learned Tomas was responsible for Zandri’s death, although Dr. Barnes refused to tell me how. When I step out of the stairwell into a dimly lit hallway, I am certain that Dr. Barnes is near.
Sliding the flashlight into my bag, I pull out my gun and walk toward the lecture hall. Blood pounds in my ears as I approach the large double doors that lead to the room where I began and ended my Testing. When I take hold of one of the door handles, I feel the same anxiety and fear I did when I entered this room for the first time months ago. Inside, the stage is dark. In the shadows I see the same podium Dr. Barnes spoke behind standing at the center. The tiered seats are empty, but if I close my eyes I can see the faces of those who died. If Dr. Barnes has his way, this room will soon be filled with more candidates ready to be tested. Knowing that steadies the gun in my hand as I turn and walk to the very end of the lecture hall toward the room where I was interviewed. I see a thin slice of light under the door.
I put my hand on the knob. In my mind I list the names of the candidates who walked through the doors of this building. Those names give me courage as I slowly turn the knob, push open the door, and step inside.
Seated at a black table near the back windowless wall with a pen in his hand is Dr. Barnes. I wrap both hands around the butt of the gun, plant my feet firmly on the floor, and prepare to fire as Dr. Barnes looks up from the table and smiles.
“Good evening, Cia,” he says. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Before I can wonder who “we” is, I hear a click and feel the cold metal of a gun barrel as it is pressed against my head. And I know I have failed.
Chapter 19
