It takes a minute for the voice to penetrate the fear. For the realization that I am being pulled up and not pushed away to bloom into understanding. I stop fighting and allow myself to be hoisted up—up—up to the safety of land.
My heart is pounding. I can hardly breathe, but I manage to croak out, “Thanks,” as Tomas’s face swims in front of me. His eyes are wary and filled with concern, but his tone is light when he says, “When we get back to Tosu City, we’re going to have to work on your long jump.”
It’s a weak joke, but it makes me smile and helps me briefly forget where I am. Why I’m here. For a moment I am safe. Then the moment disappears. Scrambling to my feet, I peer back toward the bridge, looking for signs of the crossbow shooter. “We have to get out of here. There’s someone with a crossbow looking to thin out the competition. He attacked me while I was looking for you. He must have followed me to the bridge.”
Tomas’s eyes narrow as he looks beyond me to the bridge. Is he looking for proof there was a shooter? Does he not trust my word? If not for my father’s dreams, Roman’s betrayal, and Michal’s warning, I would not have believed another candidate would approach this test in such a way. Can I blame Tomas for doubting?
“Well, whoever it was must be trying to find a safer way across the river. It’s amazing you made it at all. I almost lost it when I saw you jump.” He shifts the bag on his shoulder and holds out his hand. I’m about to take it when I realize mine are bleeding. Tomas notices the cuts and says, “We’d better get those cleaned. The last thing you need is an infection. Come on. Let’s get out of the sun and fix you up.”
We travel west for over a mile before I’m willing to stop at a waist-high pile of broken metal and rocks. They will offer some concealment while I patch up my hands and get something to eat. Now that fear no longer gnaws at my stomach, I am starved.
Tomas sits next to me and says, “I can rip my sheet into bandages if you need me to.”
“Not necessary.” Although I’m glad to know I was right—Tomas did strip the sheet off his bed. “I have a medical kit in here.”
Since I don’t want to get blood all over everything in my bag, I ask Tomas to retrieve the kit and the half-full bottle of water. I wet a cotton bandage and dab at my wounds, grateful to learn that under the blood there are just a couple of scrapes. A smear of anti-infection ointment and a few bandages later, I am ready to eat. I stow the kit back in my bag, take out an apple, and offer one to Tomas. It’s the least I can do after he saved my life.
He grins. “The medical kit was one of your three items, right?” When I nod, his smile grows wider. “I almost took one, but I figured you’d think of that. I didn’t want to duplicate anything you had just in case we hooked up.”
It was a risky choice. One that might not have paid off had we not found each other. But we did. Knowing he was thinking of us as a team while making his choices makes me inexplicably happy considering the circumstances.
As we eat our apples and the two cinnamon rolls Tomas pulls out of his bag, we compare equipment. I show him the water and purification chemicals, which he also figured I would take, but he did not guess my last choice. He’d been certain I would take a compass, since it was the one item almost every candidate would need on this journey. So his eyebrows rise in surprise as I pull the gun from the side pocket of my bag and admit that I already have had cause to use it.
“That was you?”
The shame I felt earlier at my actions resurfaces, and I drop my eyes so I don’t see the censure that must be in Tomas’s eyes. But he won’t let me look away. Fingers lift my chin so I have to meet his gaze. In it I see understanding, caring, and pride.
“You did the right thing. It takes courage to defend yourself, and I’m glad you did. I can’t imagine what I would do if something happened to you.” He gives me a soft smile. Then he says, “Do you want to see my three items?”
A tool kit that Tomas was pleased to find also contains matches. A late-twenty-first-century map book of all fifty of the former United States containing detailed maps of the ground we will be treading. Last is a very large, very deadly-looking knife that Tomas slides out of a leather scabbard. I don’t remember seeing that kind of knife, if you can call it that, among the weapons we were allowed to select, but it must have been there. Two hands can easily grasp the handle. The blade itself is at least two feet long. One edge is serrated on the bottom. The rest of it gleams with deadly sharpness.
“I thought it would be useful in case we need to cut our way through overgrown bushes.” He slides the knife back in its scabbard and attaches it to something on his belt. As far as weapons go, it was a good choice even if it makes me cringe.
I store my belongings back in my bag and then show Tomas my brother’s Transit Communicator and the pocket hunting knife I brought from home. Knowing we must be much better stocked for survival than most of the candidates makes me feel more confident as we set off through the wasted city to whatever lies to the west. Tomas thinks we should continue in this direction for a while before turning south, which surprises me.
“Aren’t we traveling all the way to the fence?” I ask.
“Why?”
“To meet up with the others. You told Zandri and the others about meeting at the fence, right?”
Tomas stops walking. “You’re the only one I told.”
“But . . .” I’m about to ask why, but then I think about the crossbow shooter, Ryme’s offer of corncakes, the way Malachi was tripped by Roman when we first walked into the dining hall. And Roman’s trick. It comes down to trust. Tomas trusts me, and the kindness I have seen him demonstrate over and over again since we were children makes me certain I am correct in trusting him. Still, I cannot help but ask, “What happens if we run into Zandri or the others along the way?” Will we leave them to fend for themselves? Do we allow them to join us? Can we just walk away from people we call our friends?
I see Tomas wrestling with the question as we once again begin to travel west. After a long time, he speaks. “They say we’re going to be evaluated on the choices we make. I guess that’s going to have to be one of them.”
We walk for several more miles, rarely talking as the landscape on the horizon becomes more barren. History says that town after town once fanned out from the outer reaches of the city. That hundreds of thousands of people lived and worked in close proximity to Chicago and thrived because of the city’s heartbeat. There is little evidence of that now. Whoever destroyed the city also decimated the towns surrounding it. At least the ones we might be able to see from our location. All that is left are scraps of metal, broken walls, pieces of glass, and a lot of cracked, decayed earth—signs of the destruction man can cause against his fellow man.
The sun fades from the horizon and darkness begins to fall as we spot a small structure that stands amid a tall patch of weeds. A survivor of the war or something built after by one of those who escaped the destruction? Whatever the structure is, it appears to be intact. We look at each other and in that glance agree to head for the building. We could walk a little farther, but who knows if we will find another structure to camp in. The idea of staying outside, unprotected, with Testing candidates and animals prowling for victims is not appealing.
We are both hot and sweaty when we reach the building. The last vestiges of light are fading from the sky. The building is small and square—about eight feet by eight feet—with a hard concrete floor. All four walls still stand, but much of the roof is gone, leaving us with a view of the hazy sky. I’m glad there is no sign of rain. A charred area in the corner of the building suggests someone—probably a Testing candidate from a previous year—lit a fire there.
Tomas decides the walls provide enough cover if we would like to build a small fire. But while a fire would be comforting, neither of us wants to take the risk. In the blackness of night, any light will be seen for miles. We eat dried fruit and some
bread for dinner. By the time we are finished with our meal, the light is completely gone, and though the moon is bright, I can see only the outline of the building’s door. Nothing else. While I am used to the dark nights of Five Lakes Colony, this blackness feels different. Menacing. Filled with the monsters I used to think hid under my bed. And there are monsters out there. At least one Testing candidate is intent on killing. Tomas’s hand finds mine in the dark, and I blink back tears of gratitude that I am not facing this blackness and fear alone.
“Why don’t you go to sleep, Cia? I’ll keep watch to make sure nothing happens.”