Graduation Day (The Testing, #3)(53)

We go through the house again. When we come up empty, I unclasp the solar watch that I have hanging from the strap on my bag. I had hoped to find something else to use so that I would have a watch during our attacks. I will have to do without. So will Tomas. When he sees me opening the watch’s back panel, he offers his identical watch. Removing the inner workings, I find it fairly easy to locate and detach the alarm wires. Without a soldering tool, it takes more time and some experimentation with the Bunsen burner Tomas brought to attach new wires to the leads. I hook up the wires to one of the coil relays we salvaged from the house’s electrical system. When that is done, we construct a solar igniter similar to the one I built yesterday and complete the circuit with one of the solar batteries Tomas brought with him.

Once both timers are built, we decide not to attach them to the explosives just yet. We’ll keep the timer separate until we need to arm the explosives.

Now that we potentially have something that will distract the Safety officials, we discuss the other issues we face. Our unfamiliarity with the areas in which our targets live is a problem. Stacia is similarly hindered. Raffe knows the city better than we do, so he will have to act as our guide. But as Tomas points out, no matter how effective our distraction is, there’s no way all four of us can travel through the city unnoticed. We’ll have to split into two teams. I will lead one. The other . . . I guess we will have to wait and see if both Raffe and Stacia make it here before we decide who will take leadership of the other. Tomas would be the natural choice, but I don’t know how he will feel about separating from me. Regardless of who takes charge of the second team, we will have the pulse radios. Raffe will be able to help give directions if the second team gets turned around, and if something goes wrong, we should be able to let the other team know.

Knowing we will be divided into two teams, I take out my radio and record a message for Raffe to bring another flashlight if possible. While we wait for Stacia and Raffe to arrive, Tomas and I sort through the rest of our gear. Each of us takes two of the recorders that I lifted from the president’s fifth-floor room. Then we each place a bottle of water, some food, and one of the timers and canisters into our bags. We also take another look at the list and information sheets the president provided. Based on the coordinates of each personal dwelling, we decide to split the targets into two groups. One team will go after Professor Holt and Professor Chen, who appear to live less than a quarter of a mile apart. The other team will target Official Jeffries and Dr. Barnes.

“I think that’s as far as we can plan until the others arrive. If they don’t make it, we will have to split up. If they do arrive, the most logical approach would be to have Raffe on the team assigned to his father, since he grew up in that area and knows it well. But Raffe might not be able to handle that. We won’t know until we ask him,” Tomas says as we sit on the floor with our hands clasped between us. All day we have found ways to touch each other. A brush of the arm. A kiss on the cheek. I know we are storing up memories in case one of us is not here tomorrow. I can see in the intensity of Tomas’s gaze that he has accepted that possibility.

Tomas glances at one of the timers and sighs. “It’s starting to get late and there are still a few things I want to do before the two of them get here.” After brushing a quick kiss on my lips, he stands and grabs the mortar and pestle, the burner, and several of the plant samples and disappears into the kitchen. He comes back a moment later and takes the sample containers I placed to the side. Then he leaves the room again.

I rise and start to follow to ask him what he is working on. But then I stop. I trust Tomas to tell me what he is doing when he is ready. And I am glad for the solitude because I, too, have accepted that I may not live to see tomorrow, and so there is something I must do.

I take one of my charcoal pencils and several sheets of blank, gray recycled paper from the bottom of my bag. For a while I just stare at the pages. Then I begin to write. I don’t know if these letters will make it to the intended recipients, but writing them helps organize my thoughts.

To my father I explain that I failed in heeding his warning. That while I cannot live my life without trust, I have learned better whom to give that gift to and that the things I do now I do with those who believe what I believe. They, like me, cannot know what I know and allow a broken process to continue. I apologize if the choices I’ve made make him unhappy or cause him and the rest of my family trouble, but explain that I cannot live my life pretending what I know is not real. He taught me that even the most corrupt patch of earth can be transformed into a place where living things thrive as long as someone is dedicated to that cause. This is my cause. I cannot make plants grow, but I can commit myself to removing the corruption in this soil. Maybe if I am lucky, something strong and good will grow in its place.

Tears stain the page as I sign my name and move on to the letter for my mother. Hers is shorter but filled with love, as is the one for my brothers, including Zeen. Has he found Dreu Owens? Have they talked to Ranetta yet?

Forcing those thoughts to the side, I turn my attention to the final page and write. I have wiped away evidence of my tears and am sliding that paper into the side pocket of Tomas’s bag when he returns from the kitchen with four water bottles, two in each hand. He puts down the ones in his right hand, takes my pencil, and draws a circle on the side of those two.

“This one contains a steeped mixture of the new strain of Valerian and lavender.”