Three weeks have passed since that night in The Testing Center. I spent much of that time in the University Medical building getting treatment, talking to Enzo, who is still in the early stages of the healing process, sitting with Tomas, and watching Raffe through a window as he fought for his life. The medical team is amazed that Raffe has survived this long and that each day his vital signs get stronger. Caught in the blast that was meant to kill Symon, Raffe is determined to live. And now he has an even larger reason to fight for his life.
The president stood by her word. Three days after that night in The Testing Center, I accompanied her and her team to Decatur Colony. Since Tomas is not part of the president’s staff, he was not allowed to join us. I’m glad, because I am uncertain how he would have handled what we found there. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t a community twice the size of Five Lakes Colony with medical facilities more advanced than any I’d seen in Tosu City located on the outskirts of the colony. But unlike those wards, these contained patients in various stages of chemically induced mutations. Not as many as I would have thought, considering the number of Redirected students sent here every year. Four in each of the five stages being studied. Two male. Two female. Those in the worst stages arched their backs and extended their claws as researchers stood behind glass walls, taking notes. When I asked, I learned why there are so few. The others deemed beyond help were turned out onto The Testing grounds to mingle with the mutations that were created by war instead of by this lab.
The scars on my arm tingled as I stared into their eyes and wondered if these patients knew the mutated humans I shot during the fourth test. I wish I knew their names, but the newly appointed head of Decatur Colony’s research team, Dreu Owens, does not know the identities of those I killed or whether they were research subjects or natural mutations like the ones scientists are hoping eventually to treat and cure. Dreu told me that after being assigned to Decatur Colony, he wanted to leave when he realized most residents and test subjects were former Testing candidates and Redirected University students. But he didn’t because, now that he understands the work being done, he can’t leave behind those who suffered. Not if there is a chance of curing them. And from the partially cured human and animal mutations Dreu showed us, I believe there really may be a chance.
But not if those in charge continue the practices that have been employed up till now. Because while many former candidates and students are content to be working in labs and helping to discover a cure, there are others who are bitter and angry. Who believe that the methods being used are wrong and who live in fear that they might be chosen as the next subject for experimentation. Dreu has already announced that he will limit research to subjects who have already suffered mutations and that those who are unhappy in their current work will be able to request a transfer to another project.
Over the president’s objections, I insisted on taking two Decatur Colony residents with me—Raffe’s sister Emilie and Will’s twin brother, Gil. Both had been assigned to work in the labs and seem to be undamaged. It appears they had escaped scientific testing. After seeing what they could have been faced with, I am glad they are untouched. Both have been reunited with their brothers. The smile I saw on Will’s face was the same one I remember him wearing the first time we met. He and Gil exchanged jokes and finished each other’s sentences as if they’d never been apart. Seeing their happiness made me hold back the questions I will someday ask. About Dr. Barnes. The bullet holes. The credit Will gave me. But even without hearing the answers, I can see the truth when Will’s smile fades and he thinks no one is watching. He is living with the memories of what he has done. Something his brother and Emilie do not have to do.
All memory of the time spent in Decatur Colony has been removed from them. The president and her advisors believe limiting the memory of those who return from the colony and the public’s information about the research done there is essential to retaining peace. Another secret kept for the good of our country. When I consider the president’s logic, I cannot disagree. And yet, part of me wonders if we can ever truly learn from what we have done if we continue to suppress or erase the past.