The house was furnished. People left or died, but the houses stayed the same.
They put the bags down and began to kiss. They’d been kissing for over two weeks. Twice, when Julie was certain they were alone, she’d let him touch her breasts.
Alex had been talking for as long as they’d been in Pennsylvania about taking Julie away, but somehow it never seemed to happen. Tomorrow it was going to happen, though. Maybe it was because everybody was leaving, but Jon felt desperate. He’d be left alone with Mom and Matt and Syl while everyone else was going to have a chance to live with other people. He was trapped.
It wasn’t enough to kiss, to touch. He was almost fifteen, and his life was over, and he’d never known a woman. This was his last chance, his only chance. He loved her. She had to let him just this once.
Julie broke away from him. “No,” she said. “Jon. No.”
He couldn’t understand why she was saying that. She’d said she loved him when he’d touched her breasts. She must want him as much as he wanted her. This was her chance as much as it was his.
But she fought him, shouting for him to stop. Which he wouldn’t do. Not then, their last day, his last chance.
Julie was tough. She clawed at him, tried kneeing him. But Jon was six inches taller, thirty pounds heavier, stronger, better fed. It was a fight he was bound to win, but he didn’t want it that way. He loved her. Didn’t she know that?
“I love you, Julie,” he said, convinced that would make her quiescent. You told a girl you loved her, she’d agree to anything. That’s what the guys at school had always said. You said the magic words, and the girl was yours.
But Julie didn’t seem to understand the rules. She didn’t say, “I love you, too,” or “Oh, Jon, Jon,” or not talk at all, but still let him have her.
Instead she kept trying to get away. The harder she tried, the angrier he got, the more he felt the need to make her his.
For three years this had been his memory of Julie. Her frantic cries for him to stop. Her struggle to escape.
Since he’d moved to the enclave, Jon had never taken a grubber girl by force. The other guys did without a second thought. That’s what the girls were there for.
But Jon wasn’t a rapist. Not in White Birch, not back in Pennsylvania. He didn’t rape Julie, no matter what he had led Sarah to believe. He’d wanted Julie more than he’d wanted anything in his life, but he’d honestly believed she wanted him, too. He did love her. He would have stopped.
But Julie didn’t know that. Somehow she broke away from him and ran outside, into the storm.
Jon had followed her, intending to calm her down before she went home and told everyone what he’d tried to do. Dad and Lisa loved Julie like a daughter, and Mom—well, Mom would have taken Julie’s side. He had to talk to Julie before she ruined his life.
Once Jon got outside, he realized the only thing that mattered was getting Julie indoors to safety. The rain had turned to hail, the wind was tornado level, and in the distance Jon could see a funnel cloud.
“Julie!” he screamed. “Julie! Come inside!”
But she didn’t listen, or if she did, she was more scared of him than the weather. She was a city girl. She didn’t know the power of a tornado. All she knew was Jon was taller and stronger and didn’t know what “No!” meant.
He managed to grab her just as the twister bore down. He flung Julie to the ground, lying on top of her, a human cross.
But Julie wiggled out from under him, not realizing that he was trying to protect her. She fought to stand up, but the wind pushed so hard against her that it bent her over.
Jon faced the same battle. It was a slow-motion chase, like in a cartoon, the wind a wall against which Julie and Jon struggled to free themselves.
“Hold on!” he shouted, grabbing hold of a tree. But Julie didn’t hear him or wouldn’t listen. She kept trying to run.
Then the wind got her. It lifted her and threw her down against the ground.
He held on to the tree until the wind lessened. Only then did Jon go to her body.
She’s dead, he thought. She’ll never tell.
But only her body was dead. Julie’s mind was still alive. The terror in her eyes screamed of life.
She was completely helpless now, Jon realized. All she had was her mind and her fear.
“No,” she said to him. “Jon, no.”
He stared at her. All their friendship, all their love, had died along with Julie’s arms and legs. She’d run into a storm and the storm had killed her, and still she feared what Jon would do to her.
“Julie, it’s all right,” Jon said, knowing it wasn’t, it never would be. “I have to get help. I have to find Alex and get help.”
“I can’t move,” she said. “I can’t feel anything.”
“I know,” he said. “But I have to go. They don’t know where we are, Julie. I have to tell them where you are.”
“I’m scared, Jon,” she said. “I’m so scared.”
He wanted to pick her up, hold her in his arms, comfort her. But he’d lost the right to touch her.
“I’ll be back,” he said instead. “Pray, Julie. Pray.”
He brought Matt and Dad back to her. Alex was missing, Miranda hysterical. Charlie was dead, and Lisa and Gabe were trapped.
Julie had lingered for two days. He’d never gone to see her, to beg forgiveness.
But she never told. Maybe it was because Alex didn’t get back in time and Lisa couldn’t get out to see her. The only people Julie saw in those hours before she died were his family, his father, mother, brother, sister. And none of them indicated to Jon that Julie had told them anything.
She’d said she loved him and she did. She protected him when she wouldn’t allow him to protect her. She’d faced her death bravely. Perhaps she even forgave him.
But Jon could never forgive himself. He hadn’t raped Julie, but he’d killed her.
The rain fell on him, but it couldn’t wash away his sins. Nothing could. Julie would haunt him for the rest of his life. She controlled him in death as she never had in life. She was his hell.
PART TWO
Chapter 8
Sunday, June 21
“I don’t believe this,” Mom fumed. “I spent three hours waiting to get into the store yesterday, and I forgot to buy soap.”
“We can live without soap for a week,” Miranda said. “Don’t worry about it, Mom.”
“We can’t live without it,” Mom said sharply. “Not with all those chemicals you work with. It’s dangerous enough for the baby. You’ve got to wash them off you whenever you can. No, I’ll go back. Maybe the line won’t be so long today.”
“Mom, it’s always worse on Sunday,” Miranda said.
“I’ll go,” Jon said. “Soap and what else?”
“I hate it when you go,” Mom said. “It’s taking advantage of the system.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” Alex said. “And it’s the one advantage we can take. Thanks, Jon. I don’t think we need anything else.”
“I’ll go with you,” Carlos said. “I could use a breath of fresh air.”
“Good luck finding some,” Alex said.
Jon didn’t blame Carlos for wanting to get out. The tension was palpable. Mom’s outburst about soap had felt like a volcano spewing steam.
“The market’s about five blocks away,” Jon told Carlos as they began the walk. “Mom does the shopping Saturday afternoons because her school day ends at noon.”
“How many markets are there in White Birch?” Carlos asked.
“Two or three, I guess,” he said. “At different ends of town.” Sexton, with a third of the population, had four markets, although he’d never been inside of one.
Carlos grinned. “We were cleaning out a town,” he said, “back when I was a Marine, and the townspeople, the ones who were left, got it into their heads to use a supermarket as a fortress. I don’t know what they thought they were doing. There must have been a couple hundred
people in there.”
“How did you get them out?” Jon asked.
“Tear gas,” Carlos replied. “Most of them surrendered. We made them scrub that supermarket down. Didn’t want the clavers tasting tear gas in their lettuce.”
“Do you miss the Marines?” Jon asked.
“A little,” Carlos said. “The work was dirty, but there was a sense of, I don’t know. Brotherhood, I guess. We were all in it together, no matter how bad things got. But being a guard’s good, too. Fewer people to salute.”
“My brother Matt is a courier,” Jon said. “He seems to like it.”
“It’s a good job,” Carlos said. “Any job’s a good job nowadays.” He laughed. “Never thought Alex would end up a bus driver. He was planning on being president.”
“Well, that didn’t happen,” Jon said. “Now he’ll be satisfied owning a truck.”
“Doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen, either,” Carlos said.
“Why?” Jon asked.
“You ever play poker, kid?” Carlos asked.
Jon nodded.
“You know how you can be hot? Every card you touch turns into a flush, an inside straight. You start with a pair and end up with a full house.”
“I’ve never had that kind of luck,” Jon said.
“It feels like it’s never going to end,” Carlos said. “It’s magic. You keep upping the ante, especially if you need the money for a truck. And then the cards go cold on you. So you keep betting more, figuring your luck’ll return, only it doesn’t. It never does.”
“You gambled away your share of the money,” Jon said.
“That’s Alex’s attitude,” Carlos said. “I prefer to think of it as an investment gone sour.”
Well, Lisa will be happy, Jon thought. Miranda will be her grub for a long, long time.
The line for the market was two blocks long. “They’ll be here till curfew,” Carlos said.
Jon nodded. It was lucky Mom shopped on Saturday.
He and Carlos walked to the head of the line. Jon showed one of the guards his claver ID badge.
“Come on in,” the guard said, escorting them into the store.
“I just need soap,” Jon said.
“Where’s the soap?” the guard shouted.
“Aisle four, on the left!”
The guard walked with Jon and Carlos to the shelf with soap. There were four bars.
“Take ’em all,” the guard said. “You’re entitled.”
Jon hesitated. He could get any girl he wanted in White Birch for a bar of soap. A quick look at Carlos showed he was thinking the same thing.
“Three’ll do,” Jon said. He left one bar on the shelf and walked out of the store escorted by the guard and Carlos.
“Here,” he said to the guard, handing him one of the bars. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir,” the guard said.
Jon handed the second bar to Carlos. “Have fun,” he said.
Carlos took the soap, then pulled out his knife and cut it in quarters. “Four quarters, four girls,” he said. “They’d probably take eighths, but I’ll be generous.”
“Just don’t tell Mom,” Jon said. “She sent me for one bar, and if she knew I took more, she’d get really mad.”
Carlos laughed. “I like your mother,” he said. “She’s got guts. I like Miranda, too. That kind of surprised me.”
“You mean because she’s Alex’s kind of girl?” Jon asked.
“I didn’t even know Alex liked girls,” Carlos said. “I always figured he’d bring some boy home to meet the folks.”
Jon laughed. “He’s crazy about Miranda,” he said. “And he’s never made a pass at me.”
“No, I know,” Carlos said. “I could tell how much he loved her when he saw me in Texas. Funny. He never needed my approval before, but he wasn’t gonna marry her without my okay. Not after what she did to Julie.”
Jon stopped, then clutched the bar of soap. If he asked what Miranda had done, Carlos would never tell him. And whatever it was Carlos knew, Jon had to find out.
“I didn’t know you knew,” Jon said, trying to sound casual.
“Oh yeah, I know,” Carlos said. “Alex told me. It threw me. It still does. Miranda seems so sweet. You wouldn’t expect her… Well, she’s your sister. You know her better than I do.”
“It surprised me, too,” Jon said, burning with the need to know what Miranda had done. “When I found out. But things were desperate.”
“That’s what Alex said,” Carlos said, rolling the soap quarters in his hand. “I gotta tell you, though. I’ve killed plenty of people, probably some kids, too. You get the order to shoot, you don’t look to see who you’re shooting. But I don’t think I could ever kill someone the way that sister of yours did. So cold. Alex said she did it to spare Julie. Sleeping pills, so Julie wouldn’t know what was gonna happen. Pillow over her mouth to smother her to death. Miranda swore to him Julie slept through the whole thing, that the last thing she did was pray, so she died in a state of grace. That kind of thing’s important to Alex. At least it used to be. Now, I don’t know. He married his sister’s murderer. Not what they taught us in catechism.”
“Alex would forgive Miranda anything,” Jon said slowly.
“He said she got the pills from him,” Carlos said. “The idea, too. You’re right about those times being desperate. My sister Bri, the way she died? Completely alone, no one rescuing her. Maybe it’s better what Miranda did. Julie paralyzed like that, she would have died anyway. Well, it’s water under the bridge. Alex and Miranda expecting a baby. He’ll get that truck eventually. Alex always gets what he wants.”
Jon nodded.
“You know what I want right now?” Carlos asked. “A girl. A nice quarter-of-a-bar-of-soap girl. Wanna join me, Jon? There’s four quarters here. I won’t miss one.”
Jon looked at his watch, hoping Carlos wouldn’t see how hard he was shaking. “Better not,” he said. “I want to get the next bus home, and I’ve got to drop the soap off with Mom.”
“Tell them I’m still breathing the fresh air,” Carlos said with a laugh. “Good knowing you, Jon. I’ll think of you four more times.”
Jon managed a laugh. He watched as Carlos walked back toward the center of town.
Five minutes, he told himself. Five minutes to go back to Mom’s, hand her the soap, kiss her good-bye, say good-bye to Alex and Miranda, and catch the claver bus home.
Five minutes. He’d survived three years of Julie haunting him. He could survive another five minutes.
Monday, June 22
Sarah was in his bed. They were holding each other tightly, shutting out the world with the power of their love.
“I love you,” he whispered to her.
“You killed me, Jon,” she said.
It wasn’t Sarah. It was Julie. And she wasn’t holding him because she couldn’t hold anything. She was lying there, still as a corpse. “You killed me,” she said. “You kill everything you love.”
Jon sat upright, his heart pounding. “You can’t haunt me anymore,” he whispered. “I didn’t kill you. Miranda did.”
He’d thought of little else since yesterday afternoon. He’d told Lisa about the visit, told her about Carlos gambling away the truck money. Lisa had tried not to seem pleased, but he could tell she was. She had a gift for knowing what was best for other people, and she knew what was best for Miranda and her baby.
He’d sat at lunch with Tyler, Zach, and Ryan and had hardly listened to a word they said. He’d bench-pressed, stretched, run, and practiced, his body knowing what to do while his mind was elsewhere, focused on Miranda, on Miranda killing Julie, on Miranda cold-bloodedly drugging Julie, then smothering the life out of her.
He’d tried to figure out who else knew and decided no one did. Dad and Lisa would never have forgiven her. Matt might have, but Miranda wouldn’t have wanted Syl to know. And Mom… Mom was closer to Miranda than she was to either him or Matt, but even if Mom could have forgiven
her, she couldn’t have kept it a secret. If Mom knew, they’d all know, and since they didn’t, she couldn’t.
No, the only person Miranda told was Alex. She told him on the road to Sexton, and Alex left her. Carlos was right. Alex loved Miranda, but he’d loved Julie, too, and felt responsible for her. If Carlos had said no to the marriage, Alex wouldn’t have returned.
But Carlos had said yes, allowing Alex to marry his sister’s killer. And Jon spent three years feeling responsible for something that had never truly been his fault.
He thought about that final day harder than he ever had before. Yes, he’d wanted Julie. He was a teenage boy and she was a teenage girl, and that was the nature of things. If Julie hadn’t been so religious, or more to the point, if she hadn’t been so scared of Alex, who was so religious, she would have had no reservations about making love. It had been their last chance, probably the last time they’d ever see each other.
Jon knew now he’d pushed too hard, and he understood why Julie had panicked. But panic was an irrational response. Julie knew him and loved him and should have understood that he would never hurt her. But her fear of Alex was stronger than her love of Jon. Which was pretty ironic, given that Alex loved her murderer.
Julie had panicked. Jon had gone out after her, had risked his own life to protect her, and she continued to panic. By that point, he realized, she must have been as terrified by the storm as she had been of him. The rain, the wind, the hail, must have driven her into a wild, irrational terror, and she was past the point of understanding that all he wanted was to keep her from harm.
Then the wind had lifted her and thrown her down. Jon had done everything he could to protect her, but she’d resisted and paid the price.
Jon remembered everything about that moment. He acknowledged, as he never had before, that there’d been an instant when he thought, She’s dead and she’ll never tell what happened.
But she wasn’t dead, and he didn’t leave her there to die. He could have. The storm was raging. No one knew where they were. He could have risked it, gone back to the house, claimed they’d gotten separated, hoping she’d be dead by the time they found her. He’d thought of all that then. For a moment he’d considered it.
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