“Don’t step too close to the edge,” I warn, and walk to my left. The floor slants upward and is slick with decayed leaves. A flutter of wings from above makes me jump, and I grab on to a nearby wall to keep myself steady. Looking up, I see a bird soar out of the room into the sky above. Too bad we can’t escape the same way.
“What is this place?” Will’s voice is hushed.
“Don’t ask me,” Damone says. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
None of us has. Now that the silence has been broken, Damone adds, “I bet Enzo is long gone by the time we get out of this place. He’s not stupid. He’s going to try to find the task without us. I would.”
“Remind me never to leave you alone for a minute, unless, of course, I want to get screwed,” Will says.
“Leaders don’t wait around for other people.” Damone kicks a rock and sets it flying over the ledge.
“Cia would,” Will says. “Real leaders do more than work to get ahead of everyone else.”
“No one follows the person who comes in last. Would you?”
I don’t know. Not being sure of my answer to that question makes me walk faster. Damone might be right about Enzo. If so, we need to get out of here as quickly as possible—otherwise, we might not have an opportunity to catch up to him.
Tuning out Damone and Will’s sniping, I focus on the terrain around me and notice faded letters on the wall that spell the word rainforest. Farther down I see the word diet followed by leaves, fruits, and several words that are too marked by time to make out. After a few more steps, I spot another word I recognize from a book my mother read to me when I was a child. The book was old and filled with faded pictures and told the story of children who went on a special trip to a place where they could see different kinds of animals. A place with the same name as the word next to me: ZOO.
When my mother read the book to me, I thought the idea of keeping wild animals in cages was mean. Most Five Lakes families don’t own pets, but those who do allow the animals to come and go as they choose. For the most part, the pets stay close to home, but a few, like my friend Daileen’s cat, disappear and never return.
Of course, from what I learned in that children’s book, the animals put into cages at the zoos weren’t domesticated. Wild animals from around the world were plucked from their homes and brought to places like this one. We have our share of wild animals prowling beyond, and sometimes across, the borders of Five Lakes. Some are small and relatively harmless, but there are breeds that can kill with one snap of their jaws. It’s hard to conceive of a time when someone trapped those types of creatures and forced them into cages for entertainment.
Looking around the vast space, I try to imagine what it was like before the Seven Stages of War. Manufactured trees and rocks. Maybe some real ones mixed in. A river flowing around the rim of the rocks providing both a water source and a barrier between whatever animals were kept in here and the freedom of the path on which I now stand. Even if the animals could climb the trees—and the design of this place suggests they could—the trees are far enough back to prevent escape. The animals that lived inside this place were trapped just as Will, Damone, and I are now.
Monkeys, maybe? Or, considering the size of this place, something larger, like chimpanzees. We studied the histories of other countries last year in school. During our studies, we covered the species that were indigenous to various regions prior to the end of the Seven Stages of War. It’s impossible to say which species survived the wars, since earthquakes and windstorms destroyed previous methods of worldwide communication. I had hoped to be one of the mechanical engineers who would reestablish communication through the United Commonwealth and beyond our borders. Now—
“Cia, don’t move.”
Will’s urgent whisper pulls me from my thoughts, and my foot stills. Have I ventured too close to the drop-off? No. The edge of the path is several feet to my right. The ground in front of me looks solid and secure. I turn to ask Will what the problem is, but the words die on my lips as he shakes his head and points up. My eyes follow the line of his finger to the branches of one of the man-made trees hanging to my right. For a moment, I don’t understand. Then I see it. Black eyes. The shimmer of copper and gold scales wrapping around and around the branch all the way to the tree trunk. A red tongue that tastes the air with quick flicks. A snake. At least a foot wide and more than a dozen feet long. And its head is a mere eight feet away from where I currently stand.
The snake’s tongue flicks in my direction, and I hold my breath. Snakes are common in Five Lakes. For some reason, the chemicals that left so many species disfigured or dead didn’t hurt the reptiles. Instead, the chemicals seemed to strengthen them. Scales that were once as vulnerable as human skin are now thicker. Tougher to penetrate. The bites of a number of species, once relatively harmless, are now fatal. Whatever poison transformed their scales also made them venomous. But since Five Lakes is in an area of the country less affected by the biological and nuclear bombs used in the Four Stages of War, the snakes I encountered there were easy to ignore or kill. The one dangling above me is neither.
Scales ripple as the reptile shifts position. The head drops slowly toward me. I fight to keep my feet firmly in place and force myself to think rationally as the snake’s tongue sips the air just two feet from where I stand. My eyes dart to the path ahead. The rocky surface slants upward and is caked with dirt. About twenty feet from where I stand is a door. I shift my eyes back to the snake, which looks alert but calm. My father once mentioned that certain types of snakes are deaf. Also, that some of the larger snakes he encountered on the outskirts of other colonies were known to telegraph their upset or intent to strike by flattening out the ribs in their necks. Since the snake’s eyes are fixed on me and it hasn’t moved, I assume the snake knows I’m standing here and does not feel threatened or hungry. I can only hope that trend continues.
Clutching the flashlight tight in my hand, I take a small step forward while keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the threat. The snake’s tongue flicks again, but the rest of it stays put. Considering that a good sign, I take another step. Then another.
My heart pounds with each agonizingly slow step. Inch by inch, I cross the uneven path, resisting the urge to look behind me in case that movement will make the creature attack. When I reach the door, I turn back. Both the snake and my teammates are exactly where they were when I saw them last. Slowly, I raise my hand and motion for Will to join me. His green eyes shift toward the snake, then back at me, before he takes his first step. The snake’s scales shine in the sunlight as the head drops lower, until it is at the same level as Will’s forehead. Sweat drips down Will’s face as he creeps forward. The snake’s tongue brushes Will’s hair. I hold my breath, but Will doesn’t flinch as he takes his next step. I watch him cross the floor. When he finally reaches my side, I grab his hand and hold it tight in mine. No matter what happened during The Testing, at this moment, I am glad Will is beside me and alive.
I glance back at the snake, which has once again shifted lower. It still appears unbothered by our presence, so I nod at Damone that it is time for him to start walking.
But he doesn’t.
Slowly, trying not to attract the snake’s attention, I raise my hand and beckon him. His eyes are wide as his gaze shifts from the snake to me and Will and back to the snake. Both his hands are clenched at his sides. His face looks ashen. Even from this distance, I can feel the waves of terror emanating from him, and I wonder if the snake can feel them too. If so, Damone is in more danger than either Will or I had been. But I don’t think he knows it. I doubt he has ever seen an animal that could cause him danger, let alone something like this.
Will tries to beckon Damone forward, but it’s no use. Damone has been rendered immobile by fear. A fear that could drive the snake to attack at any moment. Damone has to get out of there now.
“Here,” I whisper as I pull the two bags off my shoulder and shove them and the flashlight into Will�
��s hands. Before he can ask what I plan to do, I slide my knife out of my pocket, flip open the blade, and step through the doorway back into the cavernous room. While I doubt the blade will do any good against the scales, it’s the only weapon I have. Someone has to help Damone to safety. Will is resourceful, but I am smaller and more agile.
Fear punches through my chest. Still, I force my feet forward. The distance back seems longer. Harder. More terrifying. Both Damone and the snake turn their heads and blink as I approach. One foot in front of the other. The small knife clutched in one hand. The other extended toward Damone, willing him to close the gap between us.
He doesn’t move.
The snake does.
Its body skims around the tree branch. The head undulates. Damone stumbles backward and the snake’s eyes swing toward him. Its red tongue quivers in the air. It is the sound of scales rubbing against tree bark that urges me to run. I spot a foot-long piece of rotting wood on the ground near me and almost lose my balance as I race forward and pick it up. The snake’s eyes don’t shift from its target—Damone.
I come to a stop four feet from the shovel-sized head that is now at the same level as my forearms. One wrong move and the jaws of the snake will reach out. The fangs will clamp down, shooting poison into my bloodstream. My life will be over before I hit the ground.
Damone’s eyes are glazed. His knees locked. He looks ill prepared to do what I plan, but I don’t allow that to stop me. I throw the block of wood at the trunk of the tree near the end of the snake’s tail. The wood clattering against the tree echoes in the cavernous space.
The snake’s head whips toward the sound vibrations. Its body uncoils. The wood skips off the rail and plunges below. Scales scrape against tree bark as the snake lunges toward the rail, and I act. I dart forward, grab Damone’s arm, and pull. Damone stumbles and kicks a rock across the path. The snake changes course, but I don’t. I dig my fingers into Damone’s wrist and half drag, half pull him as I run. Thank goodness the fear that rendered Damone immobile now propels his legs forward. His feet keep pace with mine as they pound the rocky ground. The path narrows near the door. I let Damone streak by me to what I hope will be safety.
That’s when I hear the hiss. If it can be called a hiss. More a growl like the ones the wolves that lurk outside the Five Lakes borders make. The sound tingles down my spine, raises the hair on the back of my neck, and urges me forward. When my feet cross the threshold, I glance back and see a streak of copper and gold moving fast. Black eyes focused on me. Metallic and black scales flared on either side of the snake’s neck, forming what looks like a hood. The mouth opens. A scream rips from my throat as a thick metal door screeches and slams between us.
I double over and try to catch my breath. The rasp of labored breathing and the muted growl from the other side of the door are the only sounds. Finally, a beam of light cuts through the darkness.
“I’m glad the hinges on that door still work,” Will says.
Hysteria bubbles up and out of my lips. “You’re glad?”
Will grins. Damone looks at us like we’re both crazy, which makes me laugh harder. I can’t help it. I’m happy to be alive.
Still laughing, I take the flashlight from Will, sling the bags onto my shoulder, and say, “How about we find the exit out of here?”
The hallway is long, with a high ceiling, and is wide enough for the three of us to walk side by side. The walls are lined with faded photographs of animals. Chimpanzees. Orangutans. Monkeys. Gorillas. I’m pleased to know I was right about the former inhabitants of this structure, but I can’t help wondering what happened to the animals when the world collapsed.
“Wait. Do you hear that?” I cock my head to the side. There. The sound is louder this time. Someone is yelling my name, and relief streaks through me as I recognize the voice.
“Enzo,” Will says, shooting a grin at Damone. “I guess not everyone at the University believes getting ahead is more important than real leadership.”
Using Enzo’s voice as a guide, we creep down the long hallway. As much as we want to hurry, we force ourselves to go slow. To watch for things that might be lurking in the shadows. We don’t want to face another situation like the one we just escaped. We go through a door on the left. Another large hall. More faded placards and photos of animals. Signs about eating habits. Behavior. Anatomy. Signs of a past society that caged animals for amusement and education.
Enzo’s voice gets louder. Closer. I smell fresh air. The idea of freedom propels us faster. We take another left turn and see an open doorway. Sunlight. And Enzo standing near the threshold, looking relieved to see us. No more cages or synthetic trees. Freedom.
I want to sit on the ground and appreciate the moment, but we’ve already lost a great deal of time. Other teams have probably found the “nest.” We have to get moving if we’re to have a chance at winning. While the others might believe this is only a game created by the final-year students, I know better.
The good news is that our most recent adventure has given me an idea of where we need to go to find the first task. Handing the flashlight back to a curious Enzo, I say, “We’ll fill you in on what happened while we walk. We can’t fall too far behind if we want to come in first.”
As we head down the path, Will gives Enzo a rundown on the events that occurred inside the former monkey house. I let Will tell the story as I walk in front of the group, looking for anything that will give me a clue which direction we should go in. Enzo asks dozens of questions. Especially about the snake. Enzo thinks Will is exaggerating the reptile’s size, which isn’t surprising since Will tends to overdramatize.
I’m about to say that when Damone speaks for the first time since we saw the animal. “Will’s telling the truth. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Damone stops walking. “How could the final years drop us in a place with a thing like that? How could the professors let them? They said this was supposed to be fun, but they could have killed us.”
“I don’t think the final years knew the snake was in that building,” I say. “The snake probably got in through the roof after they set up their trap in the cage.”
Will nods. “We have a lot of snakes in Madison Colony. They’re always sliding into places without anyone seeing them. My mom found a six-foot snake in her closet, curled around a pair of her shoes. No one knows how it got in. Dad used my brother’s crossbow to get it out.”
The mention of the crossbow makes me flinch. Suddenly, I’m somewhere else. A bridge with a crossbow quarrel soaring through the air toward me. Then the image is gone.
Damone folds his arms across his chest. Though his stance is belligerent, I can see the fear lurking in his eyes. Rubbing my temples, I say, “This area hasn’t been revitalized yet, which means we should keep our eyes open for tracks or droppings and steer clear if we can. If we’re lucky, the next location will be somewhere snakes aren’t interested in calling home. Of course, to figure that out, we have to find the location. And I think I might have an idea where we need to go.”
“Where?” Enzo asks as I turn and walk down the path.
I step over a large broken branch. “My father has a lot of books on animal biology. His team uses them when they’re working on genetic modifications in some of our farm stock, but the books include information on all kinds of animals, including their behaviors. Behaviors like nesting.” Even though I never wanted to go into biological engineering, I flipped through each book, devouring the pictures and the words, fascinated with the idea that, somewhere, some of these creatures might still walk the earth.
“We already decided we’re looking for a bird’s nest,” Damone says.
“Birds aren’t the only animals that build nests,” I say. “I don’t think the final years would make the answer to this puzzle so easy. Do you?”
Will smiles. “Not for a minute. Which means the silver treasure is something we normally wouldn’t think of. Something like a lion or a tiger.”
“Or a gorilla.”
Enzo looks at me, and I nod.
“Silverback gorillas. I thought of them when I saw the writing on the walls of the building we were in. I don’t know if this place used to house gorillas, but if it did, I’m pretty sure we’ll find whatever it is we’re supposed to be looking for there.”
The path curves to the left. We pass more trees, a couple of rotting benches, and areas that must have once been used to display animals. I spot a faded sign lying in front of one of the areas; it pictures an animal with a long neck. This must have been the section where they kept giraffes. The next pen doesn’t have a sign, but farther down, we find another placard covered in dirt. When Will scrapes away the grime, there’s a picture of an elephant.
We walk by the broken fences and walls, looking at signs. Lions. Baboons. Zebras. Animals we have heard of but never seen. There are also pictures of animals we can’t put names to. The path circles to the right. More animal pens. More less than healthy trees. Decayed buildings that none of us wish to venture near in case more traps are set. Somewhere in the distance, we hear a shout. Of dismay? Triumph? The only thing we can be sure of is that at least one other team is nearby.
We’re about to follow the path to the right when Enzo spots a large sign on a collapsed fence to our left. The picture and words are faded, but despite time and dirt, we can see the letters: D NI GOR LA FOR ST. No one has a clue what the first word could be, but we all think it’s a good bet the final two are gorilla forest.
Independent Study Page 9
