The Testing

by Joelle Charbonneau

  We eat the remainder of the chicken and save the greens and the last bag of dried fruit for morning. We will have to think our way out of this maze before hunger takes hold. In the heat of the day, we tried to ration our water intake but now our lips are cracking from a combination of heat and dehydration. We have no choice but to open the bottles that might contain contaminants. The taste is a little off, but neither Tomas nor I detect the metallic or bitter flavors that mean certain death. The one bright spot is that Tomas’s wound seems better as I change the bandage and apply more ointment.

  “That’s because I’m being treated by the best,” he says, and gives me a kiss. The hope of the healing wound and the warmth of his lips help me fall into a fast sleep.

  Frustration returns with the light. Often we think we are on the right path only to find several turns later that we have to backtrack. More worrisome are the voices we begin to hear somewhere in the distance. Some voices sound as though they are just on the other side of a barrier or building. It is impossible to tell. But one thing is certain. We are not alone in this maze. There are other rats scampering after the seemingly illusive exit.

  An explosion rattles the buildings next to us. A scream scrapes the air. Then another. Then silence. We pedal faster. Away from the explosion. Down one road. Dead end. Backtrack. Choose another path.

  We try to make jokes when we come to the inevitable barriers that make us turn back. But hour after hour of searching and the jokes come less easily. Our laughter is more forced. Until there is nothing left to laugh at. My scalp itches from the dirt and sweat. My body aches from the constant exertion that seems to be getting us nowhere. We eat the last of the dried fruit. Tomas finds a stale roll in his bag, and we split it to curb the hunger gnawing inside us. The only good news is that we are not yet feeling the effects of the marginally tainted water. And even that news feels grim when we realize that the water will not hold out for much longer. Not a single cloud dots the sky to offer the hope of rain.

  My tired leg muscles protest when we choose a path that slants uphill. I force my feet to move the pedals. The higher up the incline we go, the better our view of the city. We aren’t that high, but here and there, where buildings have collapsed from age, we can see beyond our patch of road. And when I squint into the distance, I think I can see the long, domed building that we encountered when we first entered the maze. It is far, far away.

  I point it out to Tomas, who gives me the first genuine smile of the day. “Well, the end can’t be that far away, right? Let’s go find it.”

  The lure of freedom rejuvenates us. When we hit the next dead end, Tomas says, “Well, that’s one less dead end until we find the exit.” And we backtrack again.

  And then we hear it. The sound of boots pounding on pavement. Someone is running close by. We move faster. Turn. Pedal.

  Dead end.

  The running feet are coming nearer. I look to Tomas. Fear and determination are bright in his eyes as he nods. We both step off our bicycles, lay them down on the ground, and draw our weapons. The pounding of leather on stone is more distinctive. Right around the bend. I raise my gun, hold my breath, and force my hand to steady.

  I see the shadow first: the outline of a person. The outline of the gun in the person’s hand. My arm muscles are taut. My finger poised over the trigger as the shadow comes closer. I know my weapon has the farthest reach. The runner could fire the minute he sees us, which means I will have to shoot first. Without knowing the person’s intentions. Without knowing whether he or she means us any harm.

  I will my finger to press the trigger as the shadow looms larger and a figure bursts around the corner. And I fail. I can’t take a life. I barely register that the person is male. All I know is that if Tomas and I die, it is my fault.

  Only, instead of a gunshot, I hear, “Cia! Tomas? Is it really you?” Before I can understand that we aren’t going to die, I am swept up by a dirty pair of arms into Will’s laughing embrace. His laughter is contagious, and I cling to him. My nose wrinkles at the scent of him—dirt and body odor combined with blood and whatever else he’s run into since this test began. But I don’t care. Face it: I’m not smelling like a rose these days, and holding him gives me hope that Zandri and Nicolette might also be alive.

  “It’s great that you and Tomas managed to hook up with each other out here. I never thought I’d find either of you.”

  His raised eyebrow asks to hear the story of how Tomas and I came to find each other. So I step back and say, “I had some trouble getting out of the drop-off city. Tomas arrived in time to rescue me from a swim in that river or worse.” There’s no point in telling Will that Tomas and I conspired to meet. It would only highlight the fact that we didn’t include our other friends in the plan. Trust is hard enough in this environment. Now that my shock has worn off, I notice a bandage on Will’s shoulder caked with dried blood. “What happened to you? Are you okay?” I ask.

  Will flashes me a roguish smile. “I’m fine. Just a misunderstanding with a tree branch. No big deal.”

  “Infection can be a big deal,” I say, reaching into my bag. “Why don’t you let me take a look?”

  Will shakes his head. “It’s fine. Honest. Our time would be better spent getting out of this stupid maze. We have to be getting close to the end of this thing. I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to run low on food and water.”

  I’m about to insist on stopping everything to treat Will’s shoulder, but Tomas speaks. “Will’s right. We need to get out of here. We can deal with the rest once we find the exit. Let’s hit the road.”

  Tomas and I pick up our bicycles off the ground. We wheel them along as we walk next to Will, who is curious how we came by them. Tomas seems content to let me do the talking, so I give Will a rundown on finding the wheels and the bicycles and how we repaired them. It turns out Will found a nonmotorized scooter in a garage. One of the wheels wouldn’t turn, but he managed to loosen it up and rode it on the same road we traveled into this maze.

  “I kept hitting dead ends, and I was so frustrated that I forgot to be careful. I was going down a slope a little too fast, lost control, and fell off the scooter. The next thing I knew, the scooter hit the barrier at the end of the road and blew sky high. Guess I’ll have to look for another set of wheels once we’re out of this place. Especially if I plan on keeping up with the two of you.”

  As we search for the exit route, Will tells us about his travels, which sound uneventful compared to ours. The water he drank from the first source made him a little queasy, but thus far he’s been able to find supplies and food along the way. When he shows me a spool of wire he found, I’m ready to kiss him. It’s thin and flexible and perfect for setting snares. If we ever get out of here, we might have an easier time catching food. I’m so delighted with the wire that he gives it to me to carry in my bag.

  As much as I want it, I shake my head. “You found the wire. You should have control of it.”

  “Think of it as a thank-you gift. If you hadn’t stopped me from going for medical attention after the second round of tests, I wouldn’t even be here. None of the candidates who went came back.” Then Will leans down and whispers, “Besides, I don’t know if we’ll be traveling together after we get out of this city. Tomas looks pretty intent on keeping you to himself.”

  I start to deny it, but Tomas has not had much to add to the conversation since Will arrived. And when he does, there is a wary quality to his tone that makes me wonder what he is thinking. At the moment, Tomas is walking in front of us. Close enough to hear the conversation, but far enough away to avoid participating. I have to wonder if Will isn’t correct. Not about keeping me to himself. Tomas knows this isn’t the time or place for romantic drama. Survival—passing this test—has to take precedence. But maybe the fact that Will doesn’t have a method of travel other than his own feet is making Tomas wary. Teaming up with Will means a much slower pace of travel than what we have set thus far. Although I don’t know how well
Tomas can ride with his injury. He has been limping more and more as the day goes on. If we get out of this maze, I’m hoping we can find a cool stream for him to soak in to help reduce the swelling.

  There’s no point in worrying about Will and Tomas now. Not with another dead end looming. We backtrack, take another path. At the next fork there are only two options. Left or right. The compass says the road leading out of the city is somewhere to our right. We head in that direction.

  We follow the compass’s direction and keep walking. It is Tomas who points out the size of the buildings that we pass. They are becoming smaller, similar to the ones we rode by when entering the city. The end of this maze must be near. I desperately want to jump on my bicycle and race down the road to see if he’s right. Instead, we walk. A mile passes without a fork, without a choice to make. Two miles. Our smiles become more confident. There are fewer and fewer buildings. Finally, there is just hard, caked earth, the plants that have been able to survive in this landscape, and the road looming long in front of us.

  When the city is several miles behind us, Will asks, “Do you mind if I camp with you guys tonight? I don’t want to slow you down tomorrow, but it would be nice to have company for a little while longer.”

  “Of course you can camp with us tonight.” Tomas beats me to agreement. But I notice he is careful to promise only to stay with Will for the night.

  While I know it might annoy Tomas, I add, “Our food stores are low. We’re going to need to search for food and water tomorrow on foot. Maybe we’ll find some wheels along the way. Then we can travel together to the end.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Will smiles. “But if we don’t find wheels tomorrow, I don’t want you and Tomas hanging back on my account. The quicker you get to the end the better. You know?”

  Tomas seems to relax after that. We walk until the sun is low on the horizon. The southernmost fence line that marks the boundary of the Testing area is visible from the road. Beyond it I can see the glistening of water, clean and bright. I can’t help but wonder if the sight of water is another test designed by the officials to see if we remember and follow instructions to not leave the designated Testing area.

  We pick a spot behind a pile of large rocks to make camp. While Tomas and Will start a fire, I head off to look for food. The ground here is harder and more water-starved than on the other side of the city. But near the fence line there are signs of healthy plant life. On the other side of the fence I can see a lake. No doubt the reason for the health of the plants at my feet. Despite my frustration at being unable to reach the water, I’m happy to come away with several handfuls of dandelion greens, some wild onion, and a pot filled with white clover. I also put Will’s wire to good use. Two hundred yards from our camp I set several snares, trying to remember everything my brothers taught me about trapping animals. If I’m lucky, a wayward animal or two will cross my snares. I can only hope because my stomach is already hollow with hunger.

  Will’s water bottle is empty. Tomas and I share our water with him during the meal. When night falls there are just a few swallows at the bottom of one of the canteens. Finding a water source will have to be our first order of business tomorrow. Otherwise we won’t need to discuss who will travel with us.

  Tomas insists on setting up a watch rotation for the night. “With three of us, we can each get a decent night’s sleep and still have someone standing guard. Cia and I had a close call with some wild animals recently. I’d rather not repeat that experience if we don’t have to.”

  We leave the fire burning and Tomas gives me a long kiss before climbing on top of the rocks to watch over us while we sleep. I’ll take last watch.

  In almost no time at all, Will shakes me awake and quickly sinks into sleep as I take my place on the rocks. The fire has burned down low, but it still casts enough light on my friends that I can see Tomas’s shoulder muscles relax as Will begins to snore. Did Tomas stay awake during Will’s watch? He must have. I am torn between frustration at Tomas’s lack of trust and guilt that I trust so easily. Seeing Tomas’s uneasiness, I am forced to reconsider my plans to have Will travel with us.

  Birds singing signal the arrival of dawn. I promised Tomas to wake them at first light, but I decide to forage for breakfast in order to give Tomas a few more precious minutes of sleep. The sight of a skinny but very edible rabbit caught in one of my snares makes me grin.

  I walk along the fence line on my way back to camp, on the lookout for other food. A handful of clover and a few wild carrots end up in my bag. I would like it to be more, but these will have to do. I turn my back on the fence and start to hike back to Tomas and Will when I hear a twig snap. Whipping around, I draw my gun and take aim, expecting to find an animal. Instead, on the other side of the fence, I see a gray-haired man. And he’s smiling at me.

  Chapter 16

  BEFORE I CAN say a word, the man throws a small bag over the fence and disappears into the brush. I stare at the bag, trying to decide if this is another test. Do I look in the bag and risk something exploding or leave it and walk away?

  The sack is small and made of a coarse brown material. Not anything like the fabrics used to make our Commonwealth Testing bags or any of the bags I saw in the Testing supply room. I think about the man who threw it. His clothes were faded but in good repair. His skin was sunbaked and weathered, but his muscles looked strong from hard use. More like my father. Less like the Testing officials I’ve come in contact with.

  So who is the man? One of the rebels Michal mentioned in Magistrate Owens’s house? History tells us there were differing opinions about how to revitalize the country after the Seventh Stage of War ended. Those who survived struggled with how best to proceed: to band all the survivors together under another centralized government or to allow each group of survivors the freedom to choose their own way forward. Those who disagreed with the choice of the majority struck out on their own. Could the man I saw be one of the survivors who live outside the United Commonwealth authority? If so, why is he throwing a bag over the fence marked as United Commonwealth territory for me?

  After several minutes, curiosity wins out. I pick up the bag, hoping to find some clue to the man’s identity inside. Instead, there is a loaf of bread, a small hunk of white cheese, a bag of raisins, and a bottle of water. I open the cap to the water and sniff it. The scent is clean and pure. A few drops of my chemicals confirm it.

  I contemplate the items in my hands. The almost magical appearance of water when we are running so low is a blessing. So are the other supplies. But there is no way I can share them with my companions. Not without provoking questions about where the food and water came from. If it was just Tomas, I could have him remove his identification bracelet. Will doesn’t know about the listening devices implanted in the bracelets, and we haven’t known each other long enough for me to guess how he will react when he finds out about them. He might tip off the listeners and give away the only advantage we have—not to mention letting the Testers know we have received help from outside the fence. I can’t help but wonder what the penalty for that kind of assistance might be and if other Testing candidates will be subjected to that punishment if they, too, run into the gray-haired man.

  Not sure what else to do, I pour some of the fresh, clean water into the canteen. Then I store the bottle and the sack of food in my bag until I can best work out how to share them with my friends. Back at our camp, I stoke the fire and skin the rabbit while thinking about the gray-haired man and the sack of food he gave to me. Who is he? From my fellow candidates I’ve learned that Five Lakes Colony is far better stocked with provisions than many other colonies. So why is the gray-haired man sharing his food and water with an unknown girl? Does he know why I am on this side of the fence? Does he know there are others out here on the corrupted plains? Does he understand this is a test that some of us will not survive? By the time I get the rabbit roasting and wake my companions, I still have no answers.

  Will is giddy at the sight of the
cooking meat, dancing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He reminds me of my brother Hamin on Christmas Day. It makes me wonder if it is that similarity that causes me to trust him.

  No one questions the amount of water in the canteen as we eat breakfast, pack up, and walk back to the road. With everyone’s stomach full, I feel less guilty about the food hidden deep in my Testing bag. But I find myself walking behind them, watching the fence line for signs of the man who gave me the food.

  After ten miles, we have yet to spot water although we do find a tree bearing small, hard apples. We fill our bags with the apples and some wild carrots I find growing nearby, and then we set off again. After another five miles I begin to suspect that any nearby water sources will not be close enough to the road for us to spot. The Testers aren’t making it that easy.

  The ground around the road is packed flat, which makes me say, “I think one of us should take a bicycle and scout for water off the road. Whoever goes can cover more territory and get back before it’s time to camp for the night.”

  “I’ll go,” Will volunteers.

  Tomas immediately rejects the offer. “No offense, Will, but once you have one of the bicycles, who’s to say you won’t ditch us and speed your way to the finish line.”

  “You’re right. I could do that.” Will smiles. His tone is affable, but I can see in his eyes something flat, dark, and angry. “I wouldn’t, but I can understand how you might not trust my word given the circumstances. Even if your girlfriend here does. I’m also guessing you won’t trust me to stay with her while you go scouting.”