In the After

remarkably well today,” Kay said. I ignored the rare compliment and pulled open my locker. After I retrieved the contents, I shakily slammed the door. “Are you okay?” Kay asked.
    I turned to her. “I’m just . . .” I searched for the right word. My entire future depended on how I performed next. If I didn’t get control of my nerves, I’d be in trouble. I couldn’t afford to fail, not if I wanted to stay in New Hope.
    “I can’t tell you what the test is, Amy. You need to succeed by yourself, or we can’t make you a Guardian. This isn’t fun and games. You could get seriously hurt.”
    “Has anyone died during this test?” I hadn’t allowed myself to wonder about the physical danger I might be in.
    “Just put on the synth-suit and meet me outside.”
    I pulled on the soft, strong material of the synth-suit. It hugged my body snuggly and I was comforted by the softness against my skin. I stretched, shook out my arms and legs, trying to stay calm.
    I rechecked my weapons: a Guardian gun and two knives. Both knives were intact and real, no practice knives this time. I tucked one into each leg sheath and walked slowly back to the Rumble Room, where Kay and the Guardians were waiting. Everyone was gathered around Marcus.
    “What’s going on?” I asked Nick.
    “Not sure, but your test has been postponed.”
    “It’s more important now than ever,” Marcus was almost shouting, “that the Guardians are one cohesive unit. The final test needs a higher level of rigor for the security of us all and the greater good of New Hope.”
    I heard a snort behind me and turned to catch Gareth roll his eyes.
    “Dr. Reynolds has devised some new tests, trials that each potential Guardian will have to pass. These tests are still in the works, so until then, there will be no new Guardians.”
    “What about Amy?” Kay asked. “She has to have her test. . . .”
    Marcus looked at me, already in my synth-suit. “I think Amy has proven herself time and again.”
    “Well, that’s for damn sure,” Gareth said from behind me.
    “Unless you object, Kay, I think we should approve Amy’s Guardian status.” Marcus looked at her levelly. “It’s your decision.”
    Kay met his gaze, her face stony. “We’ll have to get the committee’s approval. . . .”
    “We can bring it to them tonight.” Marcus’s smile was mocking. “I’m sure they’ll give their consent.”
    Kay considered. “Amy’s in,” she said at last.
    I released the breath I was holding. “So that’s it?” I asked. “I’m a Guardian now?”
    “Looks like.” Kay patted me on the shoulder and the other Guardians clapped. She leaned in and whispered, “I don’t know what Marcus and his military cronies are up to, but you do deserve this.”
    I wanted to hug her but I knew she wasn’t the hugging type. I let my exhaustion sink in. I just wanted to go tell Baby and my mother that I passed.
    Marcus approached me with a weird, satisfied look on his face. “Okay, Amy, your first job as a Guardian is to retrieve the trail markers we used for the run. You can put them in the Rumble Room office.”
    “All right.” I was tired and disappointed to have to do such a tedious chore, but at least I was a Guardian.
    Five minutes into my task, I heard Marcus’s voice again. “Amy!”
    My hand went to my communicator in my hood at my ear. “Yes. I’m here.”
    “We’re going to do some stealth training. When you’re done, meet us out by the dairy farm, in the western field. Do you know it?”
    “Yeah, sure,” I told him. I quickly gathered up the rest of the flags and dropped them off in the Rumble Room. After that, I hustled toward the pasture. When I reached the field, I immediately knew that something was wrong. There were no other Guardians. They should have already been there.
    “Hello?” I called uncertainly. I reached again to the communicator at my ear. Pressing it anxiously, I realized it was disabled.
    I heard a sound across the field. Drawing my gun, I turned quickly and scanned the field, trying to find the source of the noise. “It’s not smart to taunt someone with a loaded gun,” I yelled. Too late I realized my mistake.
    I took an involuntary step back as a flash of green shot across the field, headed straight for me. I aimed and fired, but my gun jammed. I pulled the trigger several times before I tossed it aside, wasting precious seconds. I fumbled for my knives, finally grabbing them from my leg sheaths. I