As I grab my bicycle, Michal says, “I have to go inside for a meeting. Are you okay getting back to the University on your own? If not, I can ask someone to help you get these papers to your residence.”
I shift the strap on the bag so the weight will be easier to manage while riding and tell him I’m fine.
“Good.” Michal holds the bicycle while I throw my leg over the seat. “If you need any assistance with the reports, I’ll be working late for the next couple days. You’ll be able to find me at the president’s office.”
His eyes hold mine to make sure I understand. And I do. If I stumble across any important information or get into trouble, I am to find Michal. He will help.
Michal turns and I start pedaling. Despite the weight on my back and the worry of whether The Testing will end before inflicting more death, I smile. My legs pump and the bicycle picks up speed. My hair whips across my face, but I don’t stop to fasten it back as I normally would. The freedom I feel is too wonderful to stop for even a moment.
I push the pedals and zip around pedestrians. After several blocks, there are fewer people on the streets, and I ignore caution and push myself to go even faster. The buildings and trees speed by. The sun shines warm on my face. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine that I am back in Five Lakes, headed home to where my family waits.
Instead of taking a direct route to the University, I zigzag through the city streets, trying to prolong the happiness. Soon my legs begin to tire. Despite the exercises I have done to regain my former muscle tone, my body is not used to this kind of exertion. But it will be. Dad always said the best way to keep the mind healthy is to make sure the body is strong. I know my father was right. While my legs and back are tired, my mind is more focused. More like the girl I was before I was chosen for The Testing. The one who believed that the government wanted the best for us all and that her fellow students could be trusted. This girl would never have believed that friends could betray or that a fellow student would happily abandon her to die in a metal box.
Despite the nightmares that have plagued me, I have tried to avoid remembering the time I spent locked inside a case of steel or the revenge I wanted to exact when I was released. The only thing revenge brings is more destruction. More death. That I was willing to embrace that emotion, even for a brief time, scared me more than being locked inside that box. Though I do not like Professor Holt, her message to us during Induction was correct. Leaders must be able to control their emotions. It is a skill I vow to master. If it hadn’t been for my tripping on that wire, I might have done something . . .
The wire. The other wire I spotted on the other side of the fence. After Induction ended, I put them out of my mind. Ignored the questions I’d had when I saw them. Now that I’ve recalled the snares, the questions and all they imply return. Snares are set by people. People who need food. The signs on the air base fence are clear. The area beyond is too dangerous for anyone to venture beyond. The snares suggest different. If the area isn’t as deadly as the warnings suggest, it would be an ideal location for anyone looking to act in secret while remaining close to the United Commonwealth’s capital.
Could the rebels be using the airfield? Michal said Symon and his people were nearby, near enough for Michal and the other government rebels to pass information back and forth.
If the rebels aren’t at the airfield, who else could be living in the unrevitalized area? Could Redirected students be living among the devastation?
I slow and put my feet down on the pavement before crossing the bridge to the residence. Once I cross, my brief escape from the pressure and worry will end. University work will once again begin. The weight of the bag pulls on my shoulder, reminding me of the daunting task in front of me.
Walking my bicycle across the bridge, I consider how to discover what Redirection means for colony and Tosu City students. Symon’s faction of rebels is working to find The Testing recordings in order to convince Dr. Barnes’s supporters to remove him. If the rebels don’t find that proof, they’ll need other evidence to convince the Debate Chamber to vote with the president. Proof of what happens to the Redirected students might be enough.
Now that I have transportation and an internship with the president, I will have a method and an excuse to leave this campus. Professor Holt and my fellow students will believe I’m working at the president’s office, while the president and her staff will assume I’m doing my work here. As long as I get everything done, no one will have reason to question my whereabouts. Learning the identities of those living on the airfield might not give me the answers I seek, but it’s a place to start.
I look in the direction of Tomas’s residence and wish I could talk to him about what I plan to do. The fears I have. The conflict that might be coming.
I am about to turn my bicycle in that direction when a second-year student with pale yellow hair offers to show me the outbuilding where I can store my bicycle. Vowing to find an opportunity to talk to Tomas later, I follow her directions and take my bulging bag inside. Since it’s long past lunch, I grab an apple and some crackers from the dining hall before climbing the stairs to my rooms. The residence is mostly quiet. Students are in class, still at their internships, or locked in their rooms studying.
Sitting on the floor of my room, I pull stacks of papers out of my bag and put them into four different piles based on the departments that created them. I tie my hair back into a knot, pick a pile at random, and start reading.
After an hour, I’m sure this project will take years, if not decades, to complete. Once the government decides on the path the tracks should take—and there are seven differing opinions on the best route to each of the currently inaccessible colonies—the ground needs to be cleared of trees and debris. Then bridges must be built to cross chasms in the earth. Those gaps are the reason why Five Lakes and the other colonies were not part of the original rail plan. They are also the reason none of the departments can agree on how to proceed. Those who are involved with land revitalization don’t want the train to disrupt newly planted crops and trees, which means directing the train over some of the widest fissures. The Department of Resource Management is concerned by the amount of steel required to create bridges over those areas and wants the train directed to the areas where the gaps in the earth are smallest. Both sides have fair points.
For the next three hours, I consult maps, read long-winded documents, and scribble notes. When dinnertime comes, I’m grateful for the excuse to get up and leave the papers behind—even though I know I will see faces missing from the dining room. It is time to learn who has been cut from our ranks.
The dining hall is half full when I arrive. I can feel eyes following me as I cross to the back table where Ian is seated. Most of the first years are still missing, but I spot a few. Griffin. Kaleigh. Enzo. I let out a sigh of
relief at the latter. Though he has not been forthcoming about himself, I count Enzo among my friends.
When I reach my table, those seated at it stop talking.
“I guess everyone knows about my internship,” I say.
Ian grins as the rest of our table suddenly fills with people. One of them is Griffin. Moments later, Enzo follows.
“The president’s skimmer on campus was a tip-off that something big was happening,” says Ian. “It didn’t take long for people to put the pieces together. I’ve been fielding questions about you and the internship all day.” While his tone is light, I can see tension behind his eyes as they slide down the table to Griffin and back to me.
I take a piece of bread and pretend that hunger, not worry, is churning my insides. Will and Raffe slide into the last two seats at the table, and I force a smile. While I’m glad they are not faced with Dr. Barnes’s Redirection, I still do not understand or trust either.
Turning back to Ian, I ask, “Who’s been asking questions?”
“My professors. Students. Everyone is talking about the president taking a deeper interest in the University. Some think her involvement means great things for the future.”
Some.
Forcing a laugh, I say, “That’s because they haven’t seen the work I’ve been assigned. I doubt I’ll ever come out of my rooms. People are going to have to start bringing meals to me. I’m glad the president said I can work out of her office if I need to, because carrying that much paper might kill me.”