AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes,” she says. “The dark-haired boy with the green eyes.”
Will.
“I saw him after I heard Dr. Barnes had been killed and asked him what he knew. He was worried you’d feel guilty after everything that happened and that you wouldn’t accept the credit for what you had done. He thinks you’re a hero.”
“I’m not.” After everything that has happened, it is the only thing I am certain of.
President Collindar smiles. “I had a feeling you’d say that. The decisions that leaders have to make are never easy. Including this one. You took a life, but just think how many more were saved.”
Not Zeen’s. Lives were saved. Yes. But not by me. By Will.
I look again at the bloody hole in Dr. Barnes’s shoulder and the three precise gunshot wounds in his chest. Symon must have caused the first as he ran to find me. Symon was injured when he fired. I am not sure he could have fired with the accuracy it would have taken to create the fatal wounds. But someone who was a known marksman, like Will, could have. His main skill lies with a crossbow, as he demonstrated in the fourth test, but I remember how he took down Roman and know his skill with a gun doesn’t lag far behind. Symon might have inflicted the three wounds that killed Dr. Barnes, but my gut tells me no. This was Will’s work.
Will wasn’t here when Dr. Barnes explained his bargain with President Collindar. He couldn’t have known that crediting me with the kill was the only way to end The Testing we both despised. Yet, that is what he did. The Will I knew during the fourth test would have taken the credit for his actions. He would have wanted whatever reward he thought would come with bringing down the president’s foe. Instead, this time, he passed to me whatever accolades he felt would be delivered. Because Will isn’t just the boy who shot and betrayed. Just as I am not just the naive girl from Five Lakes. Now I have to decide for certain whether Dr. Barnes was the man I believed him to be and whether President Collindar is the person she says she is.
Walking to the table, I look at the glass Dr. Barnes drank from, and the liquid that remains at the bottom. I put the glass to my lips and take a small sip.
The flavor makes me grimace as Dr. Barnes did. Metallic. Bitter. The taste that I remember from months ago in this same room. When Dr. Barnes watched and waited and hoped that I would be confident and coherent enough to pass through to the University. He hoped I would prove that The Testing was flawed and that by my hand and through his sacrifice it all would be ended.
“Are you ready, Cia?” President Collindar asks.
Everything Dr. Barnes told me was the truth.
“Cia, are you ready?” she asks again.
I look at the president and then around the room, my mind filled with questions. Only some of which I can answer. For the rest I will have to do what is necessary to obtain the truth.
“Come on, Cia,” Tomas says, taking my bag from the table. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 21
HOME.
On the outskirts of Five Lakes I sit under an oak tree that my brother Zeen helped create. My father and I have visited this site every day since I have come home. Today, I am here alone. In my hands is the Transit Communicator that Zeen once owned. The mate to this Communicator is buried next to him. Tears that I could not shed the night he died fall freely now that I am surrounded by reminders of him. The night of my graduation, we stood under an oak like this. On that night Zeen spoke to me the words that in the moments before he died he asked me to remember. Back then the two of us stood in the shadows together, both disappointed about our futures. Me, because I thought I hadn’t been chosen for The Testing. He, because he felt trapped by the boundaries of Five Lakes and the lack of recognition for what he had achieved. In that moment he told me, “Things don’t always work out the way we hope. You just have to pick yourself up and find a new direction to go in.”
Nothing about what has happened this past year has turned out the way I had dreamed of. Yet remembering Zeen’s words has given me comfort, and knowing he died to save my life has made me more determined to see that his sacrifice is never forgotten.
Above me, leaves rustle on the tree. Sunlight, bright and filled with hope, shines on the four grave markers beside me. Each etched with a symbol and a name so that the sacrifices of those who died will live in the memory of everyone from Five Lakes. Zeen Vale beneath two crossed lightning bolts. An arrow under the name Malachi Rourke. A stylized flower and the name Zandri Hicks. And Michal Gallen with the symbol of an anchor. He wasn’t from Five Lakes, but I insisted he be included. Honored for the help he gave and the sacrifice he made. Without him, change would not have come. And there has been change.
Three weeks have passed since that night in The Testing Center. I spent much of that time in the University Medical building getting treatment, talking to Enzo, who is still in the early stages of the healing process, sitting with Tomas, and watching Raffe through a window as he fought for his life. The medical team is amazed that Raffe has survived this long and that each day his vital signs get stronger. Caught in the blast that was meant to kill Symon, Raffe is determined to live. And now he has an even larger reason to fight for his life.
The president stood by her word. Three days after that night in The Testing Center, I accompanied her and her team to Decatur Colony. Since Tomas is not part of the president’s staff, he was not allowed to join us. I’m glad, because I am uncertain how he would have handled what we found there. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t a community twice the size of Five Lakes Colony with medical facilities more advanced than any I’d seen in Tosu City located on the outskirts of the colony. But unlike those wards, these contained patients in various stages of chemically induced mutations. Not as many as I would have thought, considering the number of Redirected students
sent here every year. Four in each of the five stages being studied. Two male. Two female. Those in the worst stages arched their backs and extended their claws as researchers stood behind glass walls, taking notes. When I asked, I learned why there are so few. The others deemed beyond help were turned out onto The Testing grounds to mingle with the mutations that were created by war instead of by this lab.
The scars on my arm tingled as I stared into their eyes and wondered if these patients knew the mutated humans I shot during the fourth test. I wish I knew their names, but the newly appointed head of Decatur Colony’s research team, Dreu Owens, does not know the identities of those I killed or whether they were research subjects or natural mutations like the ones scientists are hoping eventually to treat and cure. Dreu told me that after being assigned to Decatur Colony, he wanted to leave when he realized most residents and test subjects were former Testing candidates and Redirected University students. But he didn’t because, now that he understands the work being done, he can’t leave behind those who suffered. Not if there is a chance of curing them. And from the partially cured human and animal mutations Dreu showed us, I believe there really may be a chance.
But not if those in charge continue the practices that have been employed up till now. Because while many former candidates and students are content to be working in labs and helping to discover a cure, there are others who are bitter and angry. Who believe that the methods being used are wrong and who live in fear that they might be chosen as the next subject for experimentation. Dreu has already announced that he will limit research to subjects who have already suffered mutations and that those who are unhappy in their current work will be able to request a transfer to another project.
Over the president’s objections, I insisted on taking two Decatur Colony residents with me—Raffe’s sister Emilie and Will’s twin brother, Gil. Both had been assigned to work in the labs and seem to be undamaged. It appears they had escaped scientific testing. After seeing what they could have been faced with, I am glad they are untouched. Both have been reunited with their brothers. The smile I saw on Will’s face was the same one I remember him wearing the first time we met. He and Gil exchanged jokes and finished each other’s sentences as if they’d never been apart. Seeing their happiness made me hold back the questions I will someday ask. About Dr. Barnes. The bullet holes. The credit Will gave me. But even without hearing the answers, I can see the truth when Will’s smile fades and he thinks no one is watching. He is living with the memories of what he has done. Something his brother and Emilie do not have to do.
All memory of the time spent in Decatur Colony has been removed from them. The president and her advisors believe limiting the memory of those who return from the colony and the public’s information about the research done there is essential to retaining peace. Another secret kept for the good of our country. When I consider the president’s logic, I cannot disagree. And yet, part of me wonders if we can ever truly learn from what we have done if we continue to suppress or erase the past.
And yet, there is hope that we have learned something. Last week, I watched from the Debate Chamber gallery as President Collindar kept her bargain with Dr. Barnes. Standing at the podium, looking out on a filled Chamber and observation area, the president announced the disbanding of the University selection process known as The Testing. Current University students will continue their education under the temporary direction of Professor Douglas Lee—head of Early Studies and professor of history. Meanwhile, the president and her office will work closely with the Education Department to create a new selection system for the University, one that will be the same for both Tosu City and colony students.
The city is buzzing about the traitor who killed Dr. Barnes, Professor Holt, Official Jefferies, and Professor Chen. I know now that only three of them should be dead. In the days following the attack and Dr. Barnes’s death, I learned that Professor Chen was pushing for a reevaluation of The Testing’s purpose and the method of selecting new students. Tomas and Stacia learned of Professor Chen’s true intent when they went to her house. Once she was restrained, Tomas wanted to leave but Stacia refused. A bullet at close range from Stacia’s gun killed Professor Chen. Stacia was determined to follow the president’s instructions. The United Commonwealth president was Stacia’s leader. Not me. Stacia died moments later. Tomas says it was self-defense. I have not pressed him. Perhaps because I can see the real answer in the shadows that fill his eyes. Maybe someday he will tell me why he killed Stacia, but I doubt it. In his mind, what happened is over. It is time to move on.
My name has not been mentioned in conjunction with Dr. Barnes’s death or the elimination of the others. Nor have the names of Tomas, Ian, Raffe, Stacia, and Will, though our friends from our former study group helped us create a marker decorated with the symbol Raffe created to honor Stacia. We placed it next to the one Professor Holt hung for Rawson. A fitting tribute, I hope, for a girl who wanted more than anything to be important. She and I might not have agreed on much in the end, but for better or worse, she was still my friend. I miss her.
