Chapter 19

A HAND REACHES out and wrests the gun from my hand. Another person grabs the bag off my shoulder and laughs. I know that laugh. Turning, I see a sneer spread across Griffin’s face as he drops my bag to the ground.

“You might want to be careful with that.” Dr. Barnes rises from behind the table and crosses toward me. “Ms. Vale may have one or two more tricks up her sleeve.” He reaches out and takes my gun from a third-year Government Studies student I have never spoken to. “Thank you for your assistance. Now, if you don’t mind waiting outside, Ms. Vale and I have matters to discuss. You’ll both be rewarded once our conversation is complete.”

Annoyance flickers across Griffin’s face as he stalks toward the door. The other boy follows. When the door clicks shut, Dr. Barnes picks my bag off the floor, walks back to his chair, and places the bag on the table. “Please, have a seat. I know you haven’t gotten a lot of rest in recent weeks. You’ve been quite busy, Cia. So busy, in fact, I was concerned something might happen to you before you had a chance to meet me tonight. That would have been a shame, since there’s much to discuss.”

He motions for me to sit in the black chair that is situated across from him at the table. The smile Dr. Barnes wears is familiar. It is filled with warmth and concern and is designed to elicit trust. His expression turns puzzled when I do not take a seat. “You did come here to talk to me, didn’t you, Cia?”

“I came here to kill you.”

“Of course you did.” His smile widens as he sets my gun down on the table in front of him. “And I intend to let you. Of course,” he adds, “you will still have to deal with the individuals outside if you succeed. I apologize for that, but I couldn’t take the chance of you killing me before we had this conversation.”

“You’re going to let me kill you?” Confusion, nerves, and fear make me laugh, although nothing has ever seemed less funny.

Dr. Barnes leans back in his chair. “You don’t believe me, Cia?”

“No.”

Now he laughs. “I suppose I don’t blame you, although do you really think you’d be standing here right now if I didn’t intend for you to complete your agenda? You’ve come a long way since first stepping into this building, but there’s still much for you to learn.”

I think of the lock that was disengaged downstairs, the lack of dishes and clothes at Dr. Barnes’s house, the papers and files in plain sight in his study, the explosion that burned his house, and the ease with which I crossed campus despite all the fighting going on. Even the guard outside who had the chance to fire at me before I shot him. While the plan that I embarked on was well thought out, I could not have made it this far without some kind of help. Help Dr. Barnes is now claiming he provided. Why?

“You’re right,” I say, shifting my gaze to the gun. While this room is small, the gun is too far away to reach before Dr. Barnes does. I’m not sure if Dr. Barnes’s nod of approval is for my decision not to take that risk or for my understanding of the help I have received. And it doesn’t matter, because he’s correct. We have to talk. I need answers that only he can provide. Once I have those, I will find a way to get the gun, because I do not believe for a moment that Dr. Barnes intends to die.

Crossing to the black high-backed chair, I take a seat. “I do have more to learn, Dr. Barnes. But somehow I doubt you and Professor Holt will allow me to return to class after everything that has happened.”

“Professor Holt would certainly stand in your way. She’s been suspicious of your abilities since you first arrived for The Testing. She was especially unhappy when you were passed through to the University despite her objections. She never understood how you received enough votes.” He gives me a pleased smile. “However, due to tonight’s activities, Verna is no longer a consideration. Neither is MayLin Chen. So they won’t be around to complain if you decide to continue your education. Then again, after everything you’ve been through, you may wish to leave Tosu City and return to Five Lakes. If so, I’m certain your family will be happy to see you.”

Hearing Dr. Barnes mention my family makes it hard to breathe, but I keep my emotions off my face. I will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his verbal jab connected. Keeping my tone flat, I say, “You went to a lot of trouble to arrange this meeting. I doubt it was because you want to talk to me about whether or not I’d like to go back to my colony.”

“You don’t believe I’d allow you to return home?” He leans forward and rests his hands next to the gun.

“No.” I cannot take my eyes away from his fingers as they brush the butt. “I don’t believe you.”

“I have no reason to lie,” he says, wrapping his hand around the wooden handle. “Of course, I don’t expect you to take my word on that.”

Gun in hand, he rises and crosses the room to a small bench I failed to notice before. On the bench is a tray. Atop that tray is a glass filled with clear liquid. Dr. Barnes takes the glass with his free hand, walks over to the table, and places the glass in front of me. “That’s why I provided us with a drink you might remember from the last time we were in this room.”

As Dr. Barnes walks back to the other side of the table, I pick up the glass and study its contents. There is nothing to distinguish it from water. Not the look or the smell. It appears innocuous. But it could be the same liquid as the one I was required to consume during my interview, and I know looks are deceiving. Even after taking a serum that was designed to counteract the effects of the interview drug, I still felt a sense of euphoria once I drank it and the desire to tell those who questioned me everything they wanted to know. Thankfully, the serum allowed me to think before I answered and to control my responses. I do not have the benefit of that serum now.

“I’m not going to drink this.” I set the glass down on the table.

“And I’m not going to insist that you do. The drink is for me,” he says. “I’m just offering you the opportunity in case you doubt my claim about what’s in the glass.”

I’m confused. Is what he has to tell me so important that he would willingly consume the truth drug he once forced me to take? The one that, with Symon’s help, I beat. “How do I know you haven’t taken the serum that negates it?” I ask.

“You don’t.” Dr. Barnes leans back in his chair and nods. “You are always one to trust your instincts. What do you think?”

I don’t know what to think. This is another test—perhaps the last one I will ever face—and I’m not sure of the correct answer. None of what has happened tonight makes sense. Not the unlocked door, Dr. Barnes’s booby-trapped house, or his claim that he wants me to kill him. For these things to be true, Dr. Barnes must have always known what I’ve been doing. Nothing I’ve done has been in secret. But there have been no cameras. I disabled the tracking device in my bracelet. He couldn’t have planted something in my clothes because I have not always worn the same . . .

My eyes fall on the University bag that sits on the far edge of the table. I’ve rarely been without it since it was given to me after The Testing. The bag is constructed with strong material to prevent it from ripping. The bottom, especially, is thick to ensure the bag can hold all the books we have to carry around campus. At least that’s what I assumed. A bag. Like every other bag. Without memory of The Testing, I had no reason to question it when it was given to me. And once I did remember, I never gave it a second thought.

I put the glass back on the table and lean back in my seat. “Was The Testing bag designed to monitor our movements, too?”

“I’m impressed, my dear. You’re correct about this bag containing a device that allows me to better understand your daily activities, but the satchel you carried during The Testing did not. My staff believed the recorders in the bracelets were sufficient to obtain the information we needed. You proved them wrong then as you have here at the University. Just as I hoped you would.”

“You hoped?”

Dr. Barnes reaches across the table, picks up the glass, and toasts me with it. He swallows some of the liquid and frowns as he sets the half-empty glass back on the table. “I forgot how unpleasant that taste is. It was something we always meant to fix but never got around to. Not a surprise, I suppose, since no one who drinks it remembers the bitter flavor once The Testing is over. Ah, well, perhaps now you will allow me to explain in my own way.”

He places his hands on the table and begins to speak. “When the United Commonwealth was formed, it was decided that a different selection method would be necessary to ensure our country did not fall victim to the mistakes of the leaders in our past. For a while that selection was easy, since the boundaries of our country did not extend beyond the city. It was a simple matter for officials to observe those who naturally assumed leadership roles in the work they’d been assigned. However, after the first colonies were established and our population grew, there were problems. Leaders struggled to be decisive when faced with difficult decisions like power distribution. Fights broke out in parts of the city where power allocation was at its lowest. To stave off frustration and violence, two new colonies were established and tens of thousands of people sent out of the city to revitalize areas far to the east. Due to rushed decisions, those areas were poorly scouted. Only a handful of those who left the city survived.”

We studied the failed colonies in school. Those who survived talked of poisonous windstorms, vicious mutated animal attacks, and contamination in the ground that caused anything that was planted to die within days. My father always wondered how the scientists who reviewed those areas missed such deadly contamination, and believed mistakes were made. He was right. Thousands of people died because of those errors.

“Those who returned shared their story. They questioned the current leadership. The civil war that loomed would have torn apart the city and the country. To prevent that, a compromise was reached between the current leaders and those who opposed them, ensuring that new leadership would not commit the same mistakes. The University, under my grandfather’s guidance, was charged with selecting students with the qualities necessary to lead and with preparing them for the positions they would hold. A year after that change was made, The Testing was established.”

Gun in hand, Dr. Barnes stands and walks the length of the room. “It’s hard to determine what makes a good leader and to test for those qualities. For the next ten years, The Testing was comprised of written and hands-on challenges meant to determine whether a candidate had the knowledge required to help lead the revitalization mission. Those who attended the University were the brightest and most promising minds our country had to offer. And yet, many of them faltered when it was their turn to lead. After all, no matter how intelligent and skilled a person is, it is impossible to know how a person will behave in a certain situation until they are faced with it. So my grandfather created two versions of The Testing as an experiment. One for colony students and the other for those from Tosu City.”

When Dr. Barnes turns away from me, I realize this could be my chance. Slowly, I slide to the edge of the chair. There is a knife in the side pocket of my bag. If I can reach it . . .

“The colony candidates’ Testing became harder. More stressful in order to see which students could succeed in spite of the pressure and which would break under the strain. Perhaps it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the largest advancements in genetic manipulation, medicine, and in cleansing our water have been made by those who came from the colonies and passed through The Testing. Successful candidates like your father and President Wendig. Over the years, The Testing has proven to be an effective tool, which is why President Collindar is now insisting that all applicants for the University, including the ones from Tosu City, be required to take part in it.”

Icy shock streaks up my spine. “That’s not true. President Collindar wants to end The Testing.”

I know Dr. Barnes is lying. Until recently, the president didn’t understand what candidates were forced to go through. Her desire to learn more about The Testing was one of the reasons she had me assigned to be her intern.

“No, my dear.” He sees my proximity to the bag and extends the gun in front of him. His eyes hold mine, waiting for me to make a choice.

Slowly, I sit back. With a smile, he lowers the gun and continues. “While you would like to believe differently, ending The Testing is the last thing President Collindar wants. After a hundred years, other countries in the world are reaching out. Some in friendship. Others . . . well, let’s just say that our leaders will need to stay strong in order for our country to survive what comes next. Despite my growing concerns about the elimination of so many bright minds through The Testing, President Collindar believes that those losses are minor compared to the number of casualties we’ll incur if our leadership should falter.”

My mind races back to my conversations with President Collindar about The Testing. In each, she talked of ending Dr. Barnes’s control of the process. Never once did she actually say she intended to eliminate The Testing itself. But that proves nothing. I look at the half-empty glass sitting in front of Dr. Barnes. Is he telling the truth now? There’s no way to know.

I tamp down the uncertainty rising inside me and ask, “What about the Redirected students? Does President Collindar know that you and your scientists are experimenting on them?”

“Ah, you have been busy learning all of our secrets.” But his frown and the flicker of confusion that crosses his face make me wonder if he truly knows everything that I have done. “Yes, the president receives monthly reports from Professor Cartwright and Dr. Bates that outline the success of their resourcing program. She’s fully aware of their progress in the study of human mutations caused by the wars, although she believes Professor Cartwright is being too cautious in his use of the subjects. Results are important. Especially if the reports we are getting from beyond our country’s borders are accurate.”

I want to ask about the reports he has hinted at, but as important as those are, it’s the faces of those who did not pass the first rounds of The Testing that haunt me and make me ask, “Where are they? Where are the experiments being conducted?”

“In Decatur Colony.”

“There is no Decatur Colony.” I would have heard. Everyone in the Commonwealth would have. Five Lakes was the last colony established, and that was more than twenty-five years ago.

“The colony isn’t like the others. It was established as a base for research close enough to the boundaries of the fourth test that unsuccessful experimentation can be released into a closely monitored environment.” It is the way he looks at me. Expectant. As if he is waiting for an answer. Unsuccessful experimentation . . .

Horror squeezes my chest. I see the eyes that met mine when I raised my gun on the unrevitalized plains and fired.

Angry.

Bitter.

Human.

I remember the screams as my bullet made impact and took a life. If Dr. Barnes is to be believed, it might have been the life of a former Testing candidate who was Redirected. Turned into a resource and then discarded.

Before I can recover my voice, Dr. Barnes goes on. “President Collindar and I disagree on a number of things, which is why you, Cia, are here. I chose you to be our own personal test. A candidate from a colony we have not selected a student from in years. One who is unlike the type of leader President Collindar and the rest of the Testing committee insists will be necessary for our country to survive the future. The president was positive a student with your background would crack under the pressure, that you’d be incapable of doing what is necessary to keep your country safe.”

A piece falls into place. “Symon helped me during the fourth phase of Testing because you told him to.”

He nods.

“Why?”

“I needed you to think clearly about your interview answers so that I could make a case for you being accepted to the University. Many on the committee had already expressed concern that you were too emotional and displayed qualities they felt were inappropriate in our leaders. I needed you to be in control during those final moments of The Testing so no one would ask too many questions when you were passed through to the University, which is what needed to happen. Because that was the only way you could be here at this, your final and most important test. President Collindar has agreed to abide by the results. If you pass this one last exam, The Testing program will end. If you fail, it will move forward as it currently stands and students will continue to die.”

“What is the test?” I ask. Vaguely, I am aware of the sound of footsteps and raised voices outside the door. But that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except this moment. My throat is dry and my heart pounds as I stare into Dr. Barnes’s eyes, looking for the truth. “What do I have to do?”

“Why, that should be obvious.” He walks around the table to where I sit and turns the butt of the gun toward me. “It is up to you to make sure that I die.”

I stare at the handle of the weapon in his hands. In my mind, I take it. I aim. I fire. The Testing is ended. All of this is over. But all I can do is stare at the gun, trying to decide what new test lies behind Dr. Barnes’s words.

“I don’t understand,” I say.

“Of course you do.” He smiles. “I want to end The Testing. For that to happen, sacrifices need to be made. It seems only fitting that I am the one to make this one, since I have been a part of this process for so long. And truly this is the only way for The Testing to come to an end. The Testing has helped our country get through the darkest time in our history. People have come to trust the system and the leaders it produces. They believe in it.”

“Because they don’t understand what The Testing entails,” I insist.

“You aren’t that naive, Cia,” he chides. “They might not admit it, even to themselves, but more people than you think understand what The Testing involves. Most choose to pretend they’re ignorant of the facts because the system works. The idea of changing it scares them more than giving it their tacit approval. But you, my dear, are here to test whether the system really does function as well as we believe. In previous years, despite your grades and your performance in the fourth test, you would never have passed The Testing. Without the drug provided by Symon, you would have answered the interview questions truthfully. Your natural inclination to trust and your lack of killer instinct would have been apparent. Those qualities that have rallied friends to your side would have caused you to fail, because those characteristics are viewed as weaknesses by the selection committee. Today, you will prove that The Testing and the reasoning behind it are flawed. The president doesn’t believe students like you have what it takes to do what is required when your country demands it. By killing me, you prove that I am right in my convictions and she is wrong. Kill me, and this all comes to an end.” He places the gun in my lap, takes a step back, and folds his hands in front of him. “I am sorry, Ms. Vale, but after all that you have done, I have to ask that you take this one last test. You now have all the facts at your disposal. What will your answer be?”