THE SIGHT OF the buildings makes me shiver. The streets in between the buildings could house anything — wild animals, other candidates, or worse. From here the city looks to go on for miles. Even without the threat of danger lurking around every corner, I do not relish entering its depths. Tomas and I have been foraging for plants and treating water from the ponds and brooks we have encountered along the way. I doubt we will be able to do the same in a world comprised of decaying stone and steel.

 

With the threat of the city looming in the distance, I set out dinner and say, "The city would be the perfect location for the officials to add some additional tests. Most candidates will probably pass through the city instead of going around because it looks like the faster route." I think of my father and his nightmare. Whatever happened to his friends took place in a city like the one sprawled out before us.

 

Tomas meets my eyes and nods. He understands what I am thinking and what I am careful not to say with the Testers listening in. "Or they could place traps on the roads leading around the city to make sure candidates have to travel through it. They're going to want to see how we react when we come across other people. Look." He points to the south, and I squint into the setting sun. "The southern fence line bumps right up against the city. I can't see the northern boundary, but I'm betting it's closer than we think."

 

Weapons tight in our hands, we let sleep claim us and are up and ready to travel with the dawn. A survey of our supplies has us looking for water as the city looms closer. We find a small, murky pond coated with a black oily substance about a hundred yards from the road. Three of the purification chemicals are needed to treat the water, and even still I am concerned about its safety. Storing the water, I hope we find another source before we are forced to drink it. If not — well, we'll have to take our chances. While I don't relish being poisoned, I like the idea of dehydration even less.

 

Tomas insists he is okay to ride and grits his teeth as he takes his seat. His obvious pain makes me reevaluate my plan to go around the city. If Tomas's injury does not improve, we will need a better mode of transportation. A city with all of its abandoned stores and buildings could be the best place to find a vehicle.

 

The road we are traveling forks. The section that swings to the right and travels on the outskirts of the city is in serious disrepair. I doubt our bicycles would last more than a few minutes navigating the broken pavement. The fork that leads into the center of the city is perfectly smooth. The obvious sign of direction from our Testers makes my stomach clench. But there really isn't much of a choice. We will follow the road and get to the other side as fast as we can.

 

The road narrows, and we begin to pass the occasional building. Most of them are only two or three stories tall. None are in good repair. In fact, considering the number of holes in the roofs and walls, I'm amazed the structures are standing at all. We make a point to stay in the middle of the road in case the Testers have rigged the dilapidated buildings to collapse as we pass.

 

As the buildings grow taller and are spaced closer together, we see ones that have collapsed. In each instance, the building wreckage blocks a road leading off from the one on which we're traveling. At first I think I am imagining it, but when we pass the fifth different building collapsed over a fork in the road, I know I'm right. The Testing officials are herding us in a straight line. Toward whatever they have planned.

 

I yell to Tomas and stop in the middle of the road. He puts his feet down and turns to me. "What's wrong?"

 

I explain about the collapsed buildings and my worry about what might lie ahead.

 

"Do you want to go back and travel around the city?"

 

By his annoyed expression, I know Tomas does not. And to be honest, I'm not sure if I do. Going around might be equally dangerous. And we've already spent the morning coming this far. If we go back to where we started, we'll have wasted the entire day.

 

"No. Not really. I just want us to be careful."

 

He gives me a quick kiss and grins. "I promise not to throw rocks at any ponds unless I clear it with you. Okay?"

 

His smile makes my heart turn over, and despite my lingering worries, I find myself smiling back. "I'm going to hold you to that."

 

We set off at a slower pace, watching the buildings and pavement in front of us for signs of danger. Anything could be hidden ten or twelve stories up — cameras, traps. Anything. After pedaling almost four more miles we come to an intersection of roads. This time there are no piles of stone and metal to block our way. Instead, there are three unblocked paths. One that stretches in front of us and two that jut off to either side.

 

"What do you think?" Tomas places his feet on the pavement.

 

"I think now is a good time to start chucking rocks."

 

Tomas laughs but then climbs off his bicycle, grabs a large rock, and lobs it down the center path. It hits the ground and skips another ten feet across the pavement. He does the same for the other two. The rocks hit the ground and skid to a halt without incident.

 

"Now what?"

 

I don't know. We look down each path, trying to envision what it might hold. The path ahead and the one to the left are surrounded by buildings all similar in structure to the ones we've passed on our way to this point. Far to our right is a building that catches our attention. The gray structure is long. The center of the building stands several stories taller than the rest and is capped by a large dome. If for no better reason than we are curious to get a better look, we set off to the right.

 

And come to a dead end.

 

The domed building that once must have been magnificent is now crumbling. It and two collapsed buildings on either side block our way. Is part of the test figuring out how to get be yond these barriers or something else? While I consider the implications, Tomas picks up a rock and lobs it onto a set of broken stairs.

 

Nothing happens.

 

The two of us smile at each other, but before Tomas starts forward I say, "Try another rock. Just to be sure."

 

Tomas picks up another rock and hurls it toward the rubble to our left. For a moment there is silence before a faint ticking sound fills the air. A moment later the patch of ground where the rock landed explodes. There is no going around or over. Leaving the road is the wrong answer. A decision that will be punished.

 

Wordlessly, we follow the road back to the fork and choose the path that leads straight ahead. Another dead end. We don't bother to test this one for traps. We know they are there.

 

The left path takes us past several buildings that once might have been shops. A faded but partially legible sign boasts hardware. Part of me itches to stop and explore whatever inventory might still be usable, but I do not. The road that once terrified me is now a source of safety. The road zigzags around the crumbling gray buildings and eventually comes to another fork. Once again we have three choices. We take the middle one, pass more decaying structures, and come to a dead end that shows signs of a recent explosion. We turn around. And I realize what this reminds me of.

 

A maze. We are in a maze.

 

When I was growing up, my father used to draw me and my brothers complicated mazes and then ask us to solve them. Kind of like a race. All of us would be given the same maze and Dad would wait until we were all ready before telling us to start. Once we touched the tip of our pencil to the paper, we were not allowed to pick it back up. If we ran into a dead end, we were out of the race. Dad was teaching us to think and plan ahead. Not to rush into any decision too quickly without considering what the outcome would be.

 

Perhaps somewhere in his fragmented memory, he remembered this part of the test. Or maybe he was just giving us a game to pass the cold, snowy nights. Whatever the reason, I need to use the lesson it taught and think ahead. Already it is late in the day. If we aren't careful, we could be trapped in this maze longer than our supply of food and water will hold out.

 

I tell Tomas we should break for an early dinner. He's frustrated and hot enough to agree, so we sit down in the middle of the road and pull out the chicken since it will be the first to spoil in this heat. While we eat, I ask to see Tomas's book of maps. Together we pore over the pages. According to the book, the road we want to take out of the city is on the southwest side. That means we should choose paths in directions that should ultimately lead us to that road. The more straight- and south-traveling paths we can take the better.

 

Well, it isn't much information, but it is more than we had when we sat down. We hop back on our bicycles and start pedaling. Another fork. We take the left road. More undistinguishable buildings. A dead end. Back to the fork and straight ahead. Our shirts are soaked with sweat as we continue to search for the right roads. Even with the compass as a guide, the twists and turns are confusing my sense of direction. At nightfall, we have no choice but to make camp. Without light, we risk stepping off the road and tripping a trap. We opt to camp in the center of the road near a dead end. The three booby-trapped sides will at least limit the direction from which new dangers can arrive.

 

We eat the remainder of the chicken and save the greens and the last bag of dried fruit for morning. We will have to think our way out of this maze before hunger takes hold. In the heat of the day, we tried to ration our water intake but now our lips are cracking from a combination of heat and dehydration. We have no choice but to open the bottles that might contain contaminants. The taste is a little off, but neither Tomas nor I detect the metallic or bitter flavors that mean certain death. The one bright spot is that Tomas's wound seems better as I change the bandage and apply more ointment.

 

"That's because I'm being treated by the best," he says, and gives me a kiss. The hope of the healing wound and the warmth of his lips help me fall into a fast sleep.

 

Frustration returns with the light. Often we think we are on the right path only to find several turns later that we have to backtrack. More worrisome are the voices we begin to hear somewhere in the distance. Some voices sound as though they are just on the other side of a barrier or building. It is impossible to tell. But one thing is certain. We are not alone in this maze. There are other rats scampering after the seemingly illusive exit.

 

An explosion rattles the buildings next to us. A scream scrapes the air. Then another. Then silence. We pedal faster. Away from the explosion. Down one road. Dead end. Backtrack. Choose another path.

 

We try to make jokes when we come to the inevitable barriers that make us turn back. But hour after hour of searching and the jokes come less easily. Our laughter is more forced. Until there is nothing left to laugh at. My scalp itches from the dirt and sweat. My body aches from the constant exertion that seems to be getting us nowhere. We eat the last of the dried fruit. Tomas finds a stale roll in his bag, and we split it to curb the hunger gnawing inside us. The only good news is that we are not yet feeling the effects of the marginally tainted water. And even that news feels grim when we realize that the water will not hold out for much longer. Not a single cloud dots the sky to offer the hope of rain.

 

My tired leg muscles protest when we choose a path that slants uphill. I force my feet to move the pedals. The higher up the incline we go, the better our view of the city. We aren't that high, but here and there, where buildings have collapsed from age, we can see beyond our patch of road. And when I squint into the distance, I think I can see the long, domed building that we encountered when we first entered the maze. It is far, far away.

 

I point it out to Tomas, who gives me the first genuine smile of the day. "Well, the end can't be that far away, right? Let's go find it."

 

The lure of freedom rejuvenates us. When we hit the next dead end, Tomas says, "Well, that's one less dead end until we find the exit." And we backtrack again.

 

And then we hear it. The sound of boots pounding on pavement. Someone is running close by. We move faster. Turn. Pedal.

 

Dead end.

 

The running feet are coming nearer. I look to Tomas. Fear and determination are bright in his eyes as he nods. We both step off our bicycles, lay them down on the ground, and draw our weapons. The pounding of leather on stone is more distinctive. Right around the bend. I raise my gun, hold my breath, and force my hand to steady.

 

I see the shadow first: the outline of a person. The outline of the gun in the person's hand. My arm muscles are taut. My finger poised over the trigger as the shadow comes closer. I know my weapon has the farthest reach. The runner could fire the minute he sees us, which means I will have to shoot first. Without knowing the person's intentions. Without knowing whether he or she means us any harm.

 

I will my finger to press the trigger as the shadow looms larger and a figure bursts around the corner. And I fail. I can't take a life. I barely register that the person is male. All I know is that if Tomas and I die, it is my fault.

 

Only, instead of a gunshot, I hear, "Cia! Tomas? Is it really you?" Before I can understand that we aren't going to die, I am swept up by a dirty pair of arms into Will's laughing embrace. His laughter is contagious, and I cling to him. My nose wrinkles at the scent of him — dirt and body odor combined with blood and whatever else he's run into since this test began. But I don't care. Face it, I'm not smelling like a rose these days, and holding him gives me hope that Zandri and Nicolette might also be alive.

 

"It's great that you and Tomas managed to hook up with each other out here. I never thought I'd find either of you."

 

His raised eyebrow asks to hear the story of how Tomas and I came to find each other. So I step back and say, "I had some trouble getting out of the drop-off city. Tomas arrived in time to rescue me from a swim in that river or worse." There's no point in telling Will that Tomas and I conspired to meet. It would only highlight the fact that we didn't include our other friends in the plan. Trust is hard enough in this environment. Now that my shock has worn off, I notice a bandage on Will's shoulder caked with dried blood. "What happened to you? Are you okay?" I ask.

 

Will flashes me a roguish smile. "I'm fine. Just a misunderstanding with a tree branch. No big deal."

 

"Infection can be a big deal," I say, reaching into my bag. "Why don't you let me take a look?"

 

Will shakes his head. "It's fine. Honest. Our time would be better spent getting out of this stupid maze. We have to be getting close to the end of this thing. I don't know about you, but I'm starting to run low on food and water."

 

I'm about to insist on stopping everything to treat Will's shoulder, but Tomas speaks. "Will's right. We need to get out of here. We can deal with the rest once we find the exit. Let's hit the road."

 

Tomas and I pick up our bicycles off the ground. We wheel them along as we walk next to Will, who is curious how we came by them. Tomas seems content to let me do the talking, so I give Will a rundown on finding the wheels and the bicycles and how we repaired them. It turns out Will found a non-motorized scooter in a garage. One of the wheels wouldn't turn, but he managed to loosen it up and rode it on the same road we traveled into this maze.

 

"I kept hitting dead ends, and I was so frustrated that I forgot to be careful. I was going down a slope a little too fast, lost control, and fell off the scooter. The next thing I knew, the scooter hit the barrier at the end of the road and blew sky high. Guess I'll have to look for another set of wheels once we're out of this place. Especially if I plan on keeping up with the two of you."

 

As we search for the exit route, Will tells us about his travels, which sound uneventful compared to ours. The water he drank from the first source made him a little queasy, but thus far he's been able to find supplies and food along the way. When he shows me a spool of wire he found, I'm ready to kiss him. It's thin and flexible and perfect for setting snares. If we ever get out of here, we might have an easier time catching food. I'm so delighted with the wire that he gives it to me to carry in my bag.

 

As much as I want it, I shake my head. "You found the wire. You should have control of it."

 

"Think of it as a thank-you gift. If you hadn't stopped me from going for medical attention after the second round of tests, I wouldn't even be here. None of the candidates who went came back." Then Will leans down and whispers, "Besides, I don't know if we'll be traveling together after we get out of this city. Tomas looks pretty intent on keeping you to himself."

 

I start to deny it, but Tomas has not had much to add to the conversation since Will arrived. And when he does, there is a wary quality to his tone that makes me wonder what he is thinking. At the moment, Tomas is walking in front of us. Close enough to hear the conversation, but far enough away to avoid participating. I have to wonder if Will isn't correct. Not about keeping me to himself. Tomas knows this isn't the time or place for romantic drama. Survival — passing this test — has to take precedence. But maybe the fact that Will doesn't have a method of travel other than his own feet is making Tomas wary. Teaming up with Will means a much slower pace of travel than what we have set thus far. Although I don't know how well Tomas can ride with his injury. He has been limping more and more as the day goes on. If we get out of this maze, I'm hoping we can find a cool stream for him to soak in to help reduce the swelling.

 

There's no point in worrying about Will and Tomas now. Not with another dead end looming. We backtrack, take another path. At the next fork there are only two options. Left or right. The compass says the road leading out of the city is somewhere to our right. We head in that direction.

 

We follow the compass's direction and keep walking. It is Tomas who points out the size of the buildings that we pass. They are becoming smaller, similar to the ones we rode by when entering the city. The end of this maze must be near. I desperately want to jump on my bicycle and race down the road to see if he's right. Instead, we walk. A mile passes without a fork, without a choice to make. Two miles. Our smiles become more confident. There are fewer and fewer buildings. Finally, there is just hard, caked earth, the plants that have been able to survive in this landscape, and the road looming long in front of us.

 

When the city is several miles behind us, Will asks, "Do you mind if I camp with you guys tonight? I don't want to slow you down tomorrow, but it would be nice to have company for a little while longer."

 

"Of course you can camp with us tonight." Tomas beats me to agreement. But I notice he is careful to promise only to stay with Will for the night.

 

While I know it might annoy Tomas, I add, "Our food stores are low. We're going to need to search for food and water tomorrow on foot. Maybe we'll find some wheels along the way. Then we can travel together to the end."

 

"Sounds good to me." Will smiles. "But if we don't find wheels tomorrow, I don't want you and Tomas hanging back on my account. The quicker you get to the end the better. You know?"

 

Tomas seems to relax after that. We walk until the sun is low on the horizon. The southernmost fence line that marks the boundary of the Testing area is visible from the road. Beyond it I can see the glistening of water, clean and bright. I can't help but wonder if the sight of water is another test designed by the officials to see if we remember and follow instructions to not leave the designated Testing area.

 

We pick a spot behind a pile of large rocks to make camp. While Tomas and Will start a fire, I head off to look for food. The ground here is harder and more water-starved than on the other side of the city. But near the fence line there are signs of healthy plant life. On the other side of the fence I can see a lake. No doubt the reason for the health of the plants at my feet. Despite my frustration at being unable to reach the water, I'm happy to come away with several handfuls of dandelion greens, some wild onion, and a pot filled with white clover. I also put Will's wire to good use. Two hundred yards from our camp I set several snares, trying to remember everything my brothers taught me about trapping animals. If I'm lucky, a wayward animal or two will cross my snares. I can only hope because my stomach is already hollow with hunger.

 

Will's water bottle is empty. Tomas and I share our water with him during the meal. When night falls there are just a few swallows at the bottom of one of the canteens. Finding a water source will have to be our first order of business tomorrow. Otherwise we won't need to discuss who will travel with us.

 

Tomas insists on setting up a watch rotation for the night. "With three of us, we can each get a decent night's sleep and still have someone standing guard. Cia and I had a close call with some wild animals recently. I'd rather not repeat that experience if we don't have to."

 

We leave the fire burning and Tomas gives me a long kiss before climbing on top of the rocks to watch over us while we sleep. I'll take last watch.

 

In almost no time at all, Will shakes me awake and quickly sinks into sleep as I take my place on the rocks. The fire has burned down low, but it still casts enough light on my friends that I can see Tomas's shoulder muscles relax as Will begins to snore. Did Tomas stay awake during Will's watch? He must have. I am torn between frustration at Tomas's lack of trust and guilt that I trust so easily. Seeing Tomas's uneasiness, I am forced to reconsider my plans to have Will travel with us.

 

Birds singing signal the arrival of dawn. I promised Tomas to wake them at first light, but I decide to forage for breakfast in order to give Tomas a few more precious minutes of sleep. The sight of a skinny but very edible rabbit caught in one of my snares makes me grin.

 

I walk along the fence line on my way back to camp, on the lookout for other food. A handful of clover and a few wild carrots end up in my bag. I would like it to be more, but these will have to do. I turn my back on the fence and start to hike back to Tomas and Will when I hear a twig snap. Whipping around, I draw my gun and take aim, expecting to find an animal. Instead, on the other side of the fence, I see a gray-haired man. And he's smiling at me.