The Testing (The Testing 1)

We get off our bicycles and wheel them off the road, around the trap, and then back onto the smooth surface. Will’s skimmer hovers over the trap, and we continue along. We pedal a bit slower as we watch for signs of other dangers. Tomas hates the delay. So do I, but adding a few hours to our journey is nothing compared to the alternative.

The plants and leaves become greener, the trees less twisted, the grass and water more plentiful as we get closer to our destination. Markers of revitalization. My arm aches, but the signs of our goal being so near help me ignore the pain and fatigue.

An explosion from somewhere far behind us shakes the trees. Gunfire and shouts echo across the landscape from the northwest. Reminders that we are not alone in our quest and the danger is not yet past. We keep watch during the night and rise early, hoping today will be the day we finish this exam. I check the Transit Communicator frequently to mark our progress.

Forty-five miles left.

Thirty-five.

Twenty-five. We drink water as we ride, ignoring our hunger. We can get food after we have passed this test.

Fifteen miles remain, and the sun starts its decent. The sky is streaked with purple and pink. We keep going, squinting into the setting sun, on the lookout for anything that poses a threat.

Ten miles.

It is only by chance that I see the flash of metal next to the wide trunk of an oak tree. I scream to Tomas and Will as cracks of gunfire split the air. Sparks fly on the road in front of us, and I pull my handlebars to the right to avoid running into their path. The quick change in direction is too much for my repaired bicycle. The front wheel wobbles and cracks. I land flat on my back and gasp for air as the wind is knocked from my lungs. My left arm screams from the impact. Tomas shouts my name as gunfire begins again. Louder. Closer. More terrifying than before because I can barely breathe, let alone move.

But I do move because I don’t want to die. Tomas and Will shout from somewhere nearby, but I don’t look for them. I can’t. I roll onto my injured arm, ignoring the wave of dizziness and pain as I reach for my Testing bag. My fingers find the gun. I come up to my knees and look for the shooter on the other side of the road.

There. The barrel of the gun peaks out from behind the tree as the shooter prepares to fire again. I aim at the arm holding the gun and pull the trigger. A female cry of pain tells me my aim is true. I can’t help the surge of triumph that streaks through me as the gun and the girl’s arm disappear behind the tree. I keep my arm extended and my finger ready to pull the trigger as I watch the tree, waiting for signs of our attacker.

“She’s making a run for it,” Will yells.

I blink—then understand. While I have been waiting for more gunfire, the candidate has faded into the trees and mounted a skimmer similar to the one Will is driving. She must have stashed it there before taking her spot behind the tree. I pull the trigger and fire shot after shot as the skimmer fades into the setting sun. The candidate and her skimmer are gone. Unless another candidate eliminates her in the next couple miles, she will finish the test and pass on to the next one. This girl who stopped and hid here, specifically for a chance to kill her competition, might become a University candidate—a future leader of the United Commonwealth. I fight back a scream and realize the only way to keep her from being a University student is for more than twenty of us to pass this test. Then I can only hope the Testing committee will choose those who have not resorted to deadly tactics. For us to be included in that number, we have to get to the end. Which means we’d better get moving.

I climb to my feet before remembering the wreckage of my bicycle. A quick glance makes my heart sink. The fading light cannot hide the damage. The entire front wheel assembly has broken free. There is no fixing it. “I guess I’ll be walking the rest of the way,” I say, trying not to sound as discouraged as I feel. According to the Transit Communicator, there are only eight and a half miles left to travel. The distance is minor compared to the miles I have already crossed.

“Don’t worry, Cia.” Tomas appears next to me and takes my hand. “You won’t be alone. I’ll walk with you.”

“You don’t have to,” I say, but I am glad he volunteered. The idea of walking by myself in the darkness, not knowing what lurks in the shadows, is terrifying.

He gives me a light kiss and says, “Yes. I do.” Then he turns to Will. “I guess this is where we part company again. Cia and I wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

Will smiles. “Funny, but I was just going to say the same thing.”

It’s the smile that alerts me to the danger. Cold. Calculating. So unlike anything I’ve seen from him before. I shove Tomas to the side just as Will raises his gun and fires. But I’m not fast enough. I feel Tomas flinch as the bullet enters his abdomen. His eyes are wide with surprise and pain as he doubles over and sinks down to his knees.

My gun is up and targeted as Will shifts his attention to me.

“What the hell are you doing, Will?”

He smiles behind his gun. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m getting rid of my competition. I didn’t lose my brother and come all this way just to be told I’m not good enough to make it into the University. I made that choice early on. Only you wouldn’t die. Thankfully, a couple of the others were easier to kill before I ran out of quarrels. Both Gill and I are championship crossbow marksmen. He always takes first, but I give him a run for his money.”

Chicago. The crossbow shooter. The wound in Will’s shoulder. A gunshot where I hit him. The pieces fall together with terrible clarity.

“And you think I’m just going to let you shoot me now?” My voice is remarkably steady considering the rage churning in my veins. I finger the trigger of my gun, trying to channel that anger into killing a boy I thought was my friend. “I’ve already proven I won’t go down without a fight.”

Will’s smile widens. His white teeth gleam in the growing darkness. “You’re smart, Cia, but you don’t have the killer instinct. I could walk away right now and you wouldn’t fire at me.”

“You wanna bet?” I yell. “Go ahead and try me.” The trembling of my hand belies my bravado. And for a moment, I’m certain Will is right. I cannot kill him. I am going to die out here on the Testing grounds.

“Cia.”

It’s the whisper of my name by the boy I love that stops the trembling. Tomas is still alive.

Will straightens his shoulders and takes aim. My finger tightens. The gun in my hand kicks a second before Will fires. My bullet punches into his right side, sending him staggering backwards as his shot whizzes by my ear into the darkness. Will screams and starts running toward his skimmer as I fire again. His stagger tells me I’ve once again connected with my target, and I hear his gun clatter as it hits the ground. I shoot again and again as the skimmer lifts off the ground and zips forward. Two more shots and he is out of range, streaking toward the finish line.

The last of the gray light is fading as I kneel next to Tomas. The adrenaline coursing through my body fades, leaving me weak and tired and scared.