The Testing
Page 26

My entire body wants nothing more than to stay seated, but I slowly rise to my feet, store my Testing bag on the bicycle, and check my Transit Communicator. I've traveled more than forty-five miles today. Will and Tomas are somewhere on the road to the east. And they need the water I've found. Knowing their survival depends on me makes me move the pedals round and round. And if I am totally honest with myself, my reasons for backtracking are much less noble. I'm scared to be alone. Scared to face the things that might come in the dark. Scared to face my own conscience after taking human life.
But I might not have a choice. My legs are sluggish as the sunlight fades. I eat the rest of the bread and some of the raisins, sip water, and check the Transit Communicator again, trying to decide how long it will take to reach Will and Tomas. If they stopped to search for water or food, they might be miles away. Too far for me to reach before the sky turns black.
My muscles are heavy as I scan the sides of the road, looking for a place to camp. Something that is defensible, but still has a good view of the road just in case Tomas and Will keep walking after dark. After another two miles I see a clump of trees, oak or maybe elm, near the fence line about seventy yards off the road. I tie a piece of the white sheet from the cot to a branch and stick it into the ground as a marker. If Tomas and Will see it, they will know I am nearby.
The leaves on the trees are a yellowish brown, but the trunks and branches look sound. While I might sleep more comfortably on the ground, I decide to climb the sturdiest-looking of the trees and hope to find a place to camp in the branches. Of course, much depends on whether my left arm is strong enough. I stash my bicycle in some tall brown grass and decide to try. As I jump to catch a low-hanging limb, my left arm sings with pain. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, but I don't let go. Instead, I grit my teeth, pull myself up, and climb the way my brothers taught me.
The tree I've chosen is thick with heavy branches. I find a spot where several limbs are close together and perch with my back up against the trunk. Not the most comfortable bed I've ever had, but one I'm fairly certain I won't fall out of if I manage to sleep tonight. The moon comes out. I yearn for my mother's hands stroking my hair through the night the way she did whenever I was sick. Thinking of home, I keep my eyes fastened to the road in case Tomas and Will are still traveling, but somewhere during the course of my watch I fall fast asleep.
Hands reach for me. Slash my arm. Instead of screaming unintelligible words, the person I shoot calls me by name. Tears stream from its intelligent eyes as it begs me to take pity. But I don't. I shoot and kill again and again.
I jolt awake, my face wet with tears. My heart slows as I realize I am not on the hill. There are no eyes filled with pain accusing me with their dying stares. I am alone.
The moon is still shining, but I can tell by the haze of gray in the sky that daylight will not be far behind. Squinting toward the road, I see my makeshift flag still standing on the sidelines. Tomas and Will are nowhere in sight.
My injured arm protests as I shift around on my branch, preparing to descend. It screams the minute my boots make contact with the ground. I swallow several more pills before once more cleaning the cuts. The wounds don't look any worse than yesterday, which makes me feel a bit better as I apply more ointment and struggle to rewrap the bandage. A thud on the ground behind me makes my heart stop, and I leap to my feet with my gun held firm in my hand. I turn my head back and forth, looking for the source of the noise, and find it. On the ground near the fence is another coarse brown bag identical to the one given to me yesterday. This time I don't hesitate before opening it. Water. Two apples. Another loaf of bread and cheese. And what looks like a piece of roasted chicken. No note. No sign of my benefactor. Just the food and the water and the hope they provide.
Breakfast consists of chicken and an apple. I feel better after the meal, and after shoving the rest into the bottom of my bag, I break camp. The pain pills take the edge off the agony of the wound. My arm is still sore, but the pain is manageable. Pulling my marker from the side of the road, I climb onto my bicycle and set off to the east in search of my friends.
I find them two miles down the road looking tired, but alive. I can tell the minute Tomas spots me. Even at this distance I see his face light up. My heart swells with love as I race down the road, dismount my bicycle, and throw myself into his waiting arms. His mouth finds mine, and for a minute I forget that Will is standing next to us. I abandon myself to feeling alive and in love. When I do remember, I walk over to Will, give him a kiss on the cheek, and hand him a canteen filled with water.
"See, Tomas. I told you that she was fine and that she'd find water." He takes several swallows from the canteen and flashes a smile. "Your snares also worked like a charm. Two squirrels and some kind of mutated fox. Too bad your snares couldn't land me some wheels, but those are the breaks, right?"
"I've been thinking about that," I say as Tomas notices the bandage peeping out from under my shirt.
"What happened?" Gently he takes my arm and pulls the shirtsleeve up to reveal the entire length of bandage. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I say. "Turns out I wasn't the only one who was interested in using the water source I found." Without going into a lot of detail, I give them a rundown on my injury and escape from the stream. Tomas asks a couple of questions, which I answer as briefly as I can. At no time do I mention the attack was perpetrated by another kind of human. And I completely eliminate the trio of humans who lay chase after I killed their friend. To do so would open myself up to questions I don't want to answer, especially not with Testing officials listening in.
Once I'm done, I ask them about their travel. From the look Tomas and Will exchange, it is clear something went wrong. "What? Did you run into trouble, too? I was worried you wouldn't have enough water to get you through the day."
Tomas looks away as Will says, "The two of us shouted a lot after you left. We might have even thrown a punch or two. Then we decided to put aside our differences and get moving. About lunchtime we ran out of water. We also ran into another Testing candidate."
"Who?" I ask, looking down the road. My heart quickens. "Anyone we know?"
Will shakes his head. "A guy from Colorado Springs Colony. He wasn't exactly thrilled to see us, but he wasn't all bad — right, Tomas? He did share his water."
Tomas just shrugs.
"Where did he go?" I'm not surprised that Tomas wasn't willing to let another Testing candidate travel with them, but now there is someone trailing behind us who knows we are here. Not having met the person or sized up his intentions, I can't help my anxiety.
Will takes another slug of water and frowns. "I tried to get Tomas here to agree to let the kid join us, but he wasn't inclined to trust anyone else. We left him about fifteen miles back. He was looking pretty tired. I think he planned on resting for a while. I don't think he'll catch up to us anytime soon."
The strain in Will's smile. The way Tomas won't meet my eyes. Both speak to what my gut has already told me. Something is very wrong. My next questions are met with short, vague answers and I am left wondering what secrets Tomas's and Will's silences are hiding.
I hand a water bottle to Tomas and store the empty canteen Will gives me in my bag. Then we set off down the road. Will tells us he'll understand if we want to ride, but I suggest we stick together for a while longer. After my run-in with the local inhabitants yesterday, I'm glad for the protection both Tomas and Will provide. Late in the afternoon we spot a cluster of buildings in the distance to our right. Possibly what is left of a small town.
"Well, that's my cue," Will says with a quick grin. "If I can find something with wheels, I'll catch up to you guys by tomorrow night. If not — well, I'll see you at the finish line. Okay?"
Tomas tells Will to be careful and mounts his bicycle. His smile gives no doubt as to his feelings. Tomas is happy to see Will go. Will hands me half of the roasted meat from last night and then gives me a hug goodbye. While his arms are wrapped tight around me, he whispers, "Watch your back, Cia. Your boyfriend isn't the nice guy he's pretending to be. I'll try to join you soon. Until then be very careful."
I want to ask what he means. What he saw. What he and Tomas did that has put shadows in both their eyes. But I can't because Will is loping away from the road toward the buildings far in the distance. Whatever secrets are being kept I'll have to figure out for myself.
Tomas isn't in the mood to talk as we glide to the southwest. The fast pace he sets tells me he is attempting to put as much distance between us and Will as he can. Or maybe he is trying to put distance between himself and whatever happened when the two were alone. I have to work hard to keep up with Tomas and often lag behind. My arm is throbbing and my entire body cries out for rest, but I don't stop until the sky turns from bright blue to gray.
As I unpack the roasted meat, Tomas says, "The moon's been brighter the last couple of nights. We probably can ride a little farther if you're up to it."
"Why? I mean, I want to get to the end of this test as fast as we can, but you're acting like something is chasing us." A flash of twisted claws enters my mind. I shake it free and ask, "What happened while I was gone?"
"Nothing." Tomas shrugs. "Look, we lost a lot of time in that city maze, and who knows what other things the Testers have arranged to slow us down. I figure we should travel fast while we can."
The point is valid, but his light tone is contradicted by the tightness of his jaw and the hands clenching and unclenching at his side. And that's when I see it. A smear of brown on the hilt of his knife.
Dried blood.
My stomach turns as I think about the Testing candidate they ran into. The questions Tomas won't answer. Will's warning about Tomas not being exactly what he seems. I shake loose the rising fear, telling myself I've known Tomas for years. He's kind and caring. The blood is probably from cleaning the snared animals. And even if it isn't, there are other justifiable reasons for the stain. I should know after what I have done. I should just ask Tomas and set the worry aside.
But I don't. I eat my meat and clover, drink some water, and remount my bicycle so we can pedal another five miles before we rest.
When we do make camp, Tomas insists on one of us keeping watch. After what I have seen roaming the plain, I don't object. He takes first watch and stands next to a tree. In the moonlight, I can see him brushing aside tears. While my first instinct is to go to him, I know he thinks that I'm asleep — that his grief is his own. My heart aches that he won't share his pain and the source of it with me. Although, how can I object? I have secrets, too. Secrets that make me fight sleep. And when sleep pulls me under, those secrets chase me in my dreams.
Tomas shakes me awake from a dream filled with gunshots and bloody knives. He gives me a kiss and asks if I'm okay. I'm not, but I smile and tell him my dream was no big deal. More secrets. Since I'm awake, I tell him to get some rest while I keep watch. I sit next to the same tree he chose, but instead of watching the road, I set my eyes firmly on the fence line as I wait to see if anyone appears. No one does. The day dawns. We mount our bicycles and begin to pedal.
Despite Tomas getting several hours of sleep, his eyes look red and tired. He brushes my attempts at conversation aside, and when he does speak it is only to worry about our lack of food and water. I do my best to stay optimistic as a bridge comes into sight. Beyond the high-arching road lies another city. My mouth goes dry with fear. Another test?
The bridge climbs over land for several miles before stretching over a wide river. From far above the water looks cleaner than any we have seen in the Testing area. This river must have been purified by a colony north of here. Unfortunately, the bridge we take to cross the river keeps the water tantalizingly out of reach. The only way to reach the water safely is to travel back several miles to where the bridge began. Perhaps that is part of this test. To see if we will recognize that getting the water takes more effort than finding another source. Then again, a desperate candidate might not care. I'm thankful we are not that desperate.
We are rewarded at the end of the bridge with a less than sparkling but, according to my tests, drinkable pond. In the distance, perhaps two or three miles, looms the city. After the last trek through city streets, we are acutely aware of our diminished supplies. Even with my secret stash of food, we could not survive for more than a few days.
As much as Tomas wants to race away from whatever he left behind, he says, "Why don't we camp here for the night? We can wash and maybe catch some game before we start into the city."
I am quick to agree. Leaving Tomas to fill and treat the water bottles, I head off to the southwest to set snares and look for other fresh foods. There is a small wooded spot several hundred yards away where I set my snares and begin my search for roots and greens. I am digging up some wild carrots when I spot movement in the wooded area beyond the Testing fence. The man with gray hair appears from behind a tall bush. He approaches the fence and beckons me. Without a second thought, I dump my bag on a tree stump and remove my identification bracelet. I place it on top of the bag, and then walk the fifty yards to the fence to meet whatever fate has in store.
CHAPTER 17
I DON'T BOTHER to take my weapon. If this person wanted me dead, he could have killed me days ago. The man's gray hair gives the appearance of age, but his eyes and the lack of lines on his face tell me he is years younger than I first guessed. He's wearing a gray sleeveless shirt, which shows off strong arms, and brown loose-fitting pants. In his hand is a bag much like the ones that he has tossed over the fence to me.