Independent Study

by Joelle Charbonneau

Part of me thought I had accepted the possibility that I might be given the ultimate punishment by Dr. Barnes and his team of officials.

  I was wrong.

  I want to live.

  As important as it is to put an end to The Testing and Dr. Barnes’s current University program, there’s a group already working toward that goal. People like Michal, who are older, more experienced, smarter. They know this city and the people who inhabit it better than I. They don’t need help from a first-year University student. Any information I might find can also be found by Symon and his team. And even if I wanted to try, it’s too late for me to make a difference. As much as I’d like to think I’m important, I’m not. I’m too inexperienced. Too untried. Too young.

  Technically, my school graduation in Five Lakes marked me as an adult. But huddled on the bed with my arms wrapped tight around my body, I have never felt less worthy of the distinction. As much as I always wanted to believe my father when he said I am capable of doing anything, I know I am not. I cannot deliberately make a choice that could end my life.

  I am not a leader.

  I am a coward.

  My sleep is filled with strange dreams. My muscles feel heavy when I wake. My appetite is gone, though I force myself to eat before biking to the president’s office. Since it is Sunday, the office hallways are mostly empty. I drop my report onto the president’s desk and immediately return to campus. No detours. No notes warning Michal and the rebels of possible danger; no stopping at Tomas’s residence to tell him what I know. No opportunity for Dr. Barnes to accuse me of behavior that marks me for Redirection.

  When the next week starts, I go to classes, turn in assignments, and take tests. My teachers praise my work. I receive high marks, as do the other members of our study group. Everyone asks questions about my internship, especially those who have been assigned to internships within the Central Government Building. Despite the weight of my fear, my answers are upbeat. Yes, I met the president. Yes, I already turned in my first assignment. No, I have not heard the rumor about the change in law the president will propose on the Debate Chamber floor.

  I feel Tomas stiffen next to me as I answer the last question, and when I go upstairs into the stacks to find a book about the former European Union, he follows.

  “What change in law is the president going to propose?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Tomas put his hands on my shoulders. “The others might believe that, but they don’t understand you the way I do.” His fingers trace the outline of my jaw. “I know when you’re angry or scared. Right now you’re both. I can’t help you unless you tell me why.” When I still don’t answer, he drops his hand and asks, “Is it me?”

  “No. It’s . . .” The words die in my throat as I stare into the eyes of the boy I have trusted with so many of my secrets and my heart. Do I trust him now? Yes. Despite all that has happened, I believe in him. I love him.

  Quickly, I tell him about the rebellion. About the president’s upcoming challenge to Dr. Barnes, the threatened vote of confidence, and the president’s willingness to embrace violence to end The Testing and prevent her loss of power.

  “According to Michal, people around the city as well as students here at the University are being armed for this conflict. Unless Symon’s rebel faction finds something to convince the Debate Chamber to vote out Dr. Barnes, people will die.”

  “So will Dr. Barnes.” The cold acceptance in Tomas’s voice makes me shiver. “He deserves to pay.”

  “Yes.” I slip my hand into his and squeeze tight to remind him that I am here. That despite what we have been through, we are still the people who came from Five Lakes Colony. People who believe in doing what is best for everyone. “But not like that.”

  Tomas’s gray eyes look into mine. In their depths I see anger and pain, but I also see the warmth and kindness of the boy I have known since childhood. A boy who has turned into a man.

  “You’re right,” he says. “As much as I want Dr. Barnes to pay for what he has done, the country can’t afford another war. I don’t think that my internship in the genetics lab will give me access to the information the president needs, but I’ll keep my ears open. You’ll do the same. If we’re lucky, Dr. Barnes will be voted out of power and The Testing will end without the rebels raising their weapons.”

  “And if we aren’t lucky?” I ask.

  Tomas’s hand tightens on mine. “Then we run. We can take off our bracelets on our way out of Tosu. The city will be too busy with a civil war to worry about missing University students. They’ll never bother to ask if we fled and returned home.”

  Home. My parents. My brothers. A place far away from Tosu City, filled with people I know and trust. Tomas could be right. There is a chance no one will search for us. Not with a rebellion going on. We might be able to go home and use our skills to help the people we grew up with survive. Five Lakes has so little contact with Tosu City, they may not even realize a war is happening. When we tell them, they will not only understand why we returned, they will welcome us with open arms. Perhaps we can leave the past behind us and build a future without fear. Together. And when Tomas’s lips find mine, the kiss is filled with passion and the hope that even if war comes, we will survive.

  The days pass. I stash extra food in my bag during meals in preparation for the journey Tomas and I may make. During the study sessions, I try to ignore the faces around the table. Stacia. Enzo. Will. Raffe. Naomy. Holt. Brick. People I am planning to leave behind if violence comes. But the hope Tomas’s plan gave me fades as guilt takes hold.

  On Friday, I am assigned to work with one of the president’s officials on reading through plans for a new communication system. Here and there, I catch snatches of conversation as the president’s office prepares for the debate motion on The Testing she will soon be putting forward. Throughout the day, I watch for Michal, hoping for news that evidence to condemn Dr. Barnes has been found. I spot him as I’m leaving for the day. He looks tired as he climbs out of a skimmer behind the president and several older officials. His steps slow when he sees me. His eyes watch as the president and her team disappear inside the building, and then he signals for me to follow him around the corner.

  Once we are out of sight, he dispels my hope. Tangible proof has yet to be located, and Symon is working hard to persuade the president and the other faction that patience is required to avoid perpetuating the cycle of violence.

  The words I heard while hiding in the dark echo in my head. A promise of more violence.

  Quickly, I tell Michal about overhearing Professor Holt and the voice that spoke of murder. When I am done, Michal tells me not to worry. Symon would know if Dr. Barnes was aware of the rebels. But he promises to pass the information along.

  During a whispered study session conversation that evening, Tomas assures me that I have done my part. I have passed along the warning. Other than preparing for flight, there is nothing more either of us can do. I don’t tell him about the airfield and the answers I think could be found there, because I’m scared. I want to go home. I don’t want either of us to die.

  That night, I toss and turn as I wait for sleep to come. When it does, it brings with it faces of people I don’t know. Some wear bracelets of silver. Others wear ones woven of silver and gold. Extending from each bracelet is a chain bolted to the brick wall behind them. Some hurl themselves forward, trying to get free. Others seem resigned to their fates, oblivious to the metal links binding them to the wall. One by one, they turn and notice me. Their eyes look at my wrist. Envy, anger, desire, and despair light their faces. When I glance down, I see that I am not wearing a bracelet. I am standing in a field of rich green grass that my father helped create, far away from Tosu City. I am free.

  Or am I?

  I look around and my heart begins to pound. Something is wrong. I take several steps forward and run smack into a barrier. A wall. I turn and race in the other direction. Five steps. Ten. Another wall. One wall meets another. Then an
other.

  A cage that cannot be seen is no less there than if the walls were made of steel.

  The Testing candidates chained to the wall stand still as stone. In their eyes I see terror combined with a hunger that can only be sated by freedom. It’s a look I know. The same one I have seen in my own reflector. A look I must wear now.

  I stumble backward, yelling that I can’t help them. But I can try.

  The walls of my prison are cold to the touch. The chill seeps through my fingers. I shiver, pull my hand away, and the cold recedes. I step closer to the center of the confined space and feel warmer. Less frightened. Safe. A step closer to the wall, and panic gnaws my stomach.

  And I realize—the walls are constructed of my terror. To escape, I will have to not only face, but defeat, my fear.

  Nausea rolls through me as I push my hand against the wall. A drop of water hits the floor. Then another, until it becomes a steady stream. Water pools at my feet. The wall weakens beneath my hands. I push against the barrier and feel it tremble, but it does not break. I take several steps toward the center of the space and prepare to run as a voice inside tells me to stop. That what I’m doing is dangerous. That breaking this wall of ice could result in my death.

  I know.

  I accept.

  I run.

  The ice shatters on impact—as do the Testing candidates’ chains. I feel shards of ice slice my flesh. The pain I feel makes it hard to see whether the others have survived. But when I put my head on the blood-streaked earth, I know it doesn’t matter. Whether we are dead or alive, we are better off because we are free.

  I jolt awake and run my fingers along the five Testing scars. They burn just like the shards in my dream. I slide out of bed, turn on the light, and pace the length of my bedroom. When the dream doesn’t fade, I run my hand along the wall. I feel the same chill I did in my nightmare. But these walls are real. Hours ago, hiding behind the walls of this room made me feel safe. I now see it for what it is. A prison. The safety is just an illusion. No matter how careful I am or how good my grades are, I will never be free of the threat Dr. Barnes and his system present. None of us will be until Dr. Barnes and his officials are removed from power.

  Unlike in many of my nightmares, none of the faces in my dream were familiar. But I know who they are. Future candidates. Current University students. People who, like my friend Daileen, are at this moment seated at their families’ kitchen tables or in their residence rooms, studying late into the night, hoping to ace the next test. To get closer to their dream. They don’t know that the people who safeguard that dream are making choices that could lead to their deaths. But I do. No matter the excuses I make or the fear I feel, I cannot turn away from that knowledge. The president must win her vote. Dr. Barnes must be removed from power. The Testing must end.

  So far the rebels have not found the evidence the president needs to win the vote and defeat Dr. Barnes. If the vote fails, the other rebel faction will attack, and—if the man I overheard is correct—Dr. Barnes’s team will be ready for them. They will do whatever it takes to crush those who wish to end The Testing, and they will sentence the rebels, generations of candidates, and perhaps even the president and her staff to death. I may not be able to find the information that can keep this from happening, but I have to try.

  I glance at the clock. It is just past midnight. There’s plenty of time to prepare and search the abandoned airfield for information the rebels can use. I strip off my nightwear and pull on my clothes. Lacing my boots, I come up with a plan. First stop, the residence library. Last week, I left without learning the exact boundaries of the airfield. During the Induction, I logged the coordinates into the Transit Communicator, but the airfield is large. It would be best to have a more complete picture of the area I will be searching.

  The hour is early enough that students are still in the hangout room when I walk by. After looking through the library rooms, I find a tattered atlas of the former fifty United States shelved near the floor. The old airfield base is marked on a detailed map of Kansas, along with its longitude and latitude. Step one complete.

  An empty lab completes step two. I find several boxes of matches and a small penlight. I also unearth a narrow, razor-sharp folding knife used to cut up plants. It isn’t much, but between this knife and the one in my pocket, I will have protection if I run into trouble.

  Back in my rooms, I slide the signaling receiver I built into my pocket. While I do not want to put Tomas in danger, I know he will want to be by my side. Studying the map, I plug the coordinates for the center of the airfield into the Transit Communicator. The machine calculates and tells me it is just shy of ten miles away. If Tomas and I leave within the hour, we should be able to reach it, look around, and get back to our residences before our absence is noticed. I place the map book in the bottom of my bag and then add the change of clothes, food, water, and matches on top. I hold the penlight in my hand. The knives go in the side pocket. Just in case.

  When the clock strikes one, I open my door, step into the hall, and listen for sounds from my fellow students. There is silence.

  The moon isn’t as bright as last week, which makes it easier to cross the residence property without notice. A crack of a stick makes me jump, but when I squint into the darkness, I see nothing. Thanks to the penlight, I find my bicycle quickly. As I start to wheel it away, I hear a shuffling noise.

  My heart leaps to my throat as a figure fills the doorway and says, “I knew you were up to something. Wait until I tell Professor Holt about this.”

  Chapter 17

  DAMONE.

  I hit the signal button in my pocket and then lift my penlight to his smirking face.

  “You scared me to death.” I force a quiet laugh. “What are you doing out here?”

  He leans against the doorway. “I think you’re the one who should be answering that question.”

  Tension floods me, but I shrug as though I haven’t any concern. “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. So I thought I’d take a ride.”

  “That’s a good lie.” He laughs. “I wonder if Dr. Barnes and Professor Holt will believe it. They might, unless you have something in that bag that clues them in to what you’re really doing.”

  I clutch the strap of the bag and pull it tight against me. If Dr. Barnes gets ahold of the Transit Communicator . . .

  “What’s in the bag, Cia?” Damone pushes off the wall and saunters forward. “Griffin thinks whatever’s in there must be pretty important, since you never let the thing out of your sight.”

  “Why does either of you care what I have in my bag?” I shift the bag on my shoulder so I can reach the side pocket. Sliding my hand inside, I say, “Are you failing your classes and need to borrow my homework?”

  My fingers close around the handle of the lab knife as Damone’s eyes narrow. “We don’t need a colony brat’s help to pass. We’re the ones who deserve to be here. We should be the ones working with the president. Griffin figures whoever turns you in will be able to request that assignment. He thought you’d never have the guts to venture out after dark, so he went to bed.” Damone smiles. “But I know you better.”

  “I saved your life,” I whisper, hoping Tomas has received my signal. That he is at this moment looking for me.

  “I saved myself.” Anger crackles in his voice. “The snake only attacked because of you. And I was only in danger of being left behind at the second challenge because Will and Enzo were too weak to do what was necessary to ensure we’d win. Your lack of leadership made them weak. You don’t belong here, and I’m going to be the one who removes you for good.”

  I grab my bicycle and throw it forward as Damone lunges for me. He lets out a shout of anger. The clatter of metal and a yelp of pain give me a burst of satisfaction as I flick off my light and dart to the left side of the shed. I slide the knife free of my bag and swing it toward the shadows in front of me as I try to think my way out of this.

  But there is no way out. Even
if I fight my way past Damone and flee, he will report me to Professor Holt. Dr. Barnes will send officials to look for me. Tomas and I only planned to escape if our disappearance would be covered by the outbreak of fighting. People might then believe we were casualties of that action. Now there is no chance for my flight to go unnoticed. My family could be punished, as could Tomas and all the students who dared to be my friends. If I turn myself in, they might be safe. Unless Dr. Barnes gives me the drug used in The Testing interview. Unlike during my Testing days, I have nothing to counteract its effects. My secrets will be in the open. My family still at risk. Right now the only war that is being waged is here. No matter what happens, there will be consequences to this night.

  I race for the moonlit doorway. Hands grab me from behind and yank me back. Instinctively, I lash out with the knife. I feel the blade make contact with fabric and flesh, and Damone screams. His grip loosens and I run.

  I am in the doorway when I hear the footsteps. I run faster, out of the shed, toward the bridge. I stumble over a small bush. That one moment is all it takes for Damone to catch me. His body hits mine, and we crash to the ground. I roll to the side and am stopped as hands close around my throat from behind and squeeze.

  I can’t breathe. Pressure builds in my chest. The world goes hazy around me. I claw with my free hand at the fingers digging into my flesh and then do the only thing I can do. I grip the knife and stab behind me with the last of my energy.

  The knife punches into flesh. I hear a gasp as the hands release their hold on my throat. Blood runs over my hand. The knife plunges deeper. Air slides into my lungs. There is a loud thunk, and Damone’s body slumps on top of me.

  Gasping for breath, I struggle out from under the weight and hear “Let me help you.”

  Not Tomas’s voice. Raffe.

  I look up. He is standing in front of me holding a large wooden bat in one hand. The other is held out in front of him. I close my hand around his and climb to my feet. Only then do I look down at the body sprawled on the ground.