Independent Study (11 page)

“Don’t just stand there,” he yells. “Help me get down.”

Will struggles to grab the rope holding his ankles. The movement makes him swing back and forth, making me laugh even harder. Next to me, Enzo and Damone are fighting their own amusement. Finally, when our laughter subsides, I move closer for a better look.

Standing at least twenty feet high, a rusty but still sturdy-looking chain-link fence makes up three sides of a cage. The metal fence is attached to the building, which forms the fourth side. Metal bars spaced two to three feet apart make up a grid that forms the roof. More chain link covers the grid. The rope Will dangles from is attached to a roof support located in the middle of the enclosed space. On the far right side of the cage is an opened door. That must be how Will got inside. On the left of the cage is a door that leads into the attached structure.

“I might be tall enough to reach the rope around his ankle,” Damone offers.

“Maybe,” I say, although I doubt it. When Damone tries to reach, he proves me right. Drat. And from the looks of the knot around Will’s ankle, working the rope free is going to take time. Meanwhile, other teams are getting closer to finding the nest and moving on to the next location. We need to get Will down and get moving—now.

I fish my pocketknife out of my bag, climb through the cage door, and eye Damone’s lanky build with a frown. “Do you think you can lift me onto your shoulders, Damone?”

Damone is tall but slight. And while I’m not very big, my brothers used to say that carting me around was like lifting a cow. But Damone doesn’t think I look too heavy and squats down so I can climb onto his shoulders. Moments later, I am high in the air, sawing the rope. Every time Damone shifts under my weight, I hold my breath and prepare to hit the deck. But Damone is stronger than he looks and doesn’t falter as I run my blade back and forth until finally . . .
snap
. The last threads of rope break free, and Will tumbles to the hard gray stone ground.

When I am safely standing on my own two feet, I shove the knife into my pants pocket. Then, shrugging both of my bags onto my shoulder, I turn for the door in time to watch it slam closed. The distinctive clank of metal against metal announces loud and clear that the cage has been locked. Will, Damone, and I are trapped inside.

W
ILL RACES PAST
me to the door and yanks on the handle. Enzo tries opening it from the other side. I’m not surprised when neither is successful. Whoever rigged the rope and door traps did a good job. But we’ve already beaten one of the traps by getting Will free of the rope. Now we have to defeat the second and get out of here.

Damone and Will climb the fence, hoping to escape that way. Enzo tries to unlock the cage door while I walk to the one that leads into the building. The handle is missing, but it only takes a nudge of my foot for the door to creak open. I shove the door wider and wrinkle my nose at the musky smell of animal waste. The final years have created this scenario to test us. No doubt they will have something interesting in store. Hoping that whatever animals made that smell are harmless or gone, I turn back to my team and say, “We have to go this way.”

“I’ll go to the other door and yell into the building from there. You can use my voice as a guide.” Enzo digs through his bag and comes up with a small metal flashlight. “You can use this, too.”

He slips the flashlight through the fence. I take it and realize that while we are trapped inside this cage, Enzo is free to solve this part of the task and leave us behind. Will he be waiting for us when we find the exit? There is only one way to find out.

“Thanks,” I say, turning on the light. “See you on the other side.”

Taking one last breath of fresh air, I duck through the door. The smell of urine and decay makes me gag as I pan the light around the small room. I see rotting cabinets, counters strewn with dust and mouse droppings, and an overturned metal stool. At the back of the room is another door. I push the stool out of the way and cross to the door, making sure Will and Damone are right behind.

I hear the sound of tiny feet scurrying across the cracked tile of a long, narrow hallway. My father and his team have discovered several methods to limit the rat population in our area. I know other colonies and the city of Tosu have done the same. But the glow of dozens of pairs of eyes as they reflect my light tells me the rat population in this area has gone unchecked. Yick.

The smell of stagnant water and animal feces grows stronger as I step into the next room and gasp. Most of the ceiling is gone. Light streams in, giving me a clear view. This room—if it can be called a room—is enormous. The ground grows uneven as I walk deeper into the cavernous space. The floor looks like rock, but when I run my fingers over it, it feels synthetic. Something man-made. The same can be said for some of the plants that appear to be growing out of the room’s floor. Ten feet in front of my position are pieces of what must have once been a safety railing. And it is clear why it was needed. Beyond the railing is a drop of at least forty feet. At the very bottom is a river at least ten feet across. Beyond that is a large expanse of rocklike surfaces and grayish trees that stretches as high as the surface on which I currently stand. A foot placed wrong near the railing could mean a broken bone or worse.

“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.