Astray (Gated Sequel)

by Amy Christine Parker

  A sudden movement in the tree outside the window catches my eye. Someone is crouched in it, nestled into the shadows so completely that I didn’t notice him at first. I can’t see who it is for sure, because he’s wearing a ski hat pulled low over his head and a scarf is wound around his face so that only his eyes are showing. They’re intense and blue like Pioneer’s, though. The walkie-talkie is next to him, wedged between two branches. I can hear the static from it through the closed window. He stares at me and holds up one finger to make a shushing gesture. I am rooted to where I stand, unable to move, unable to breathe fully. All I can do is stare. This is it. He’s come for me.

  He turns a bit and pulls a sack of some sort from behind him. Something inside it is moving. He dips one thickly gloved hand into the sack and pulls whatever it is out—a tan and speckled owl with a face that’s all white and heart-shaped. The owl struggles to get free—its body twisting from side to side, its beak snapping at the gloved hand that holds it. Suddenly Pioneer swings it from its feet and slams it into a thick tree branch beside him. Then he rears back and does it again and again until the owl goes limp. I’m screaming by the time he’s done, calling for Cody and the sheriff. I back away from the window and Pioneer puts the walkie-talkie up to his scarfed mouth. He sings the song again, but this time his voice doesn’t sound right. It’s too low, gravelly. Maybe because it’s muffled by the scarf. Out in the hall I hear Cody calling my name. I back out of the room so I can keep my eyes on Pioneer. He’s climbing down from the tree now. Is he coming inside, ready to do to me what he did to the owl? I turn and run into the hall, collide with Cody.

  “What is it?”

  I pull on his hand. “Pioneer’s here. He’s outside. We have to get your dad. Now!” I move toward his parents’ room just as his mom comes out.

  “Another dream …,” she starts to ask, but I stop her.

  “He’s here. Pioneer’s here!” I scream, and she goes from squinty-eyed to fully awake.

  “Your dad’s at the station,” she says to Cody. She runs back into her room and picks up the phone. She yells orders at us as she dials. “Wake up your sister. Now!”

  “He’s going to get in,” I say desperately, then remember the walkie-talkie. “He’s already been inside!” Taylor’s downstairs on the sofa. He could have her.

  Cody heads for the stairs. “Stay up here with my mom. Lock yourselves in,” he says.

  “No!” The last time we got separated when Pioneer was around, Cody got hurt. “I’m coming with you.”

  He looks like he’s about to argue, but I move past him and rush down the stairs before he can. I can see the family room from here. It looks empty. My heart is a hammer in my chest, beating against my rib cage. I tiptoe into the hall, turn to check the front door. It’s locked. The little security chain is still engaged. I make my way over to the sofa. Opposite it is the small hallway that leads out to the garage. Pioneer could be hiding there. Waiting.

  I stop.

  Listen.

  I can hear someone breathing. It’s low and measured. Taylor still asleep on the couch? From where I’m standing, I can’t see over the cushions to be sure. I back up, go into the kitchen, and grab a knife from the block on the counter. Cody is next to me now. Without a word he grabs one too.

  Together we rush into the family room. It’s empty.

  “What are you two doing?” Taylor asks from behind us, her voice sleep-hoarse and barely audible. We wheel around, and as she looks at the knives in our hands, her eyes go wide.

  Outside I can hear the first faint sounds of a police siren.

  We go through the whole house, the three of us huddled together so close that it’s hard to walk. Cody’s mother joins us a few seconds later, the phone still in her hand. Every door and window is shut. Pioneer isn’t inside. Outside the sun is almost up. It makes the frost covering the yard glisten. Cody’s backyard is wide open, but beyond it is a strip of woods that runs for miles in both directions. Pioneer could be there now, hiding. Watching with the others.

  The sheriff gets to the house first. He doesn’t come inside right away, but spends a long time walking the yard, looking up into the tree by Taylor’s window. When he comes inside, he’s holding Cody’s walkie-talkie. It’s wet from the frost. I don’t want to be anywhere near it ever again.

  “No one’s out there now, but there’s footprints by the tree and … some blood,” the sheriff says. “Someone was in the tree, but it wasn’t Pioneer. I called the jail. He’s in his cell right now.”

  “But it was his voice singing,” I say. “I’m sure of it.”

  “They could’ve used a recording to make you think it was him. He’s sung that song on camera a few times during interviews. It wouldn’t take much to record it off of the TV and replay it for you. They’re trying to scare you.” He rubs his jaw. “I’m going to have several of my men watch the house from now on. I want you to stay home from school today, and I don’t think you should go to the courthouse tomorrow either.”

  But this is the furthest thing from what I want. Last night when I went out with Cody, I got a small taste of what it means to be a normal teenager, and it was better than I thought it could be. If I don’t go to school, then the Community wins. I’m just trapped inside a house instead of the Silo. “No. They’ll think what they’re doing is working. I don’t want them to think I’m scared. Please. Don’t let them take this from me too.”

  The sheriff looks at me, considers. “Fine, but I’m taking you three to school … and picking you up. Nobody goes out alone until I say different. And I’m increasing our deputy count at the school as well.”

  School seems too loud and too crowded after this morning. Every locker that bangs shut makes me jump. I keep searching the halls expecting to see the man in the mask, holding up the owl by its feet and staring at me.

  Who was it if it wasn’t Pioneer? I rack my brains. The only guys in the Community that I know for sure who have blue eyes are Will, my dad, and Mr. Brown. But none of them are the right size to be him. Come to think of it, neither was Pioneer. Whoever it was was stocky, muscular. Will’s way too lanky and so is Pioneer. My dad and Mr. Brown are closer height-wise, but neither is anywhere near as stocky. If I had to pick someone who fits the body type, I’d pick Brian, but it can’t be him either. His eyes are brown.

  I gather my books from my locker. If I’m not sure who it could have been, how will the sheriff ever be able to narrow it down? I slam my locker shut. But even if somehow I could, what can he really do anyway? He can’t arrest one of them without any real evidence. The person was wearing gloves and took the owl with him when he ran. Sure, there’s some blood, but without anything else to go on but my word, it’s not enough. I’ve lived with Cody’s family and heard the sheriff talk about cases enough to know that.

  I follow Cody and Taylor through the building. Someone bumps into me by accident and I let out a yelp. As determined as I was to come to school today, I can’t shake the feeling that I am constantly being watched. Probably because I am. Pioneer may be in prison, but I’m the one who isn’t free. No matter what I do, how much I fight to be.

  “So, do you think they’ll go through with it?” Taylor asks Cody in a voice so low that I barely hear.

  Cody looks over his shoulder at me and then frowns at her. “You had to bring that up? After this morning?”

  “She’s going to see them in a few minutes. What does it matter if I talk about it?” Taylor huffs. “Hey, Chad, back it up a little. You’re practically stepping on my heels.”

  Chad—the deputy that the sheriff assigned to us for today and the foreseeable future—backs up a little, but not enough for Taylor and she sighs.

  At first I’m still so wrapped up in figuring out who was at their house this morning that I have no idea what she’s asking Cody about … and then I remember Pioneer’s interview from last night. His hair. He wanted everyone to shave their heads. The others could actually come to school today bald.

  The f
ear I’ve been keeping tamped down since this morning turns into dread. I’m not sure how much more I can handle, but I don’t seem to have a choice. Everything is so complicated and I’m so tired of trying to figure it all out. I thought life outside the Silo would be easier than this. I feel like everything I thought I understood about my family and friends and what they’re capable of is wrong. I’m constantly surprised at how far they’ll go to stay faithful to Pioneer.

  Cody stops next to my first class and kisses my forehead. “It’ll be okay, Lyla. Whatever happens, whatever they did or did not do to themselves … has nothing to do with you anymore.” But even he seems weirded out today.

  “You’ll be here after class?” I ask. I want to grab his hand and make him sit in my class with me, but I know I can’t. Still, I don’t want to be without him when I see Will and the others.

  “Definitely. And Chad’s staying with you.” He gives Chad a meaningful look, and the deputy nods. I give Cody a hug, allow myself to lay my head on his chest for just a moment. I close my eyes and try to imagine us back at the bowling alley instead of waiting in the halls for the Community kids to show up.

  “Bye,” I say, and duck into the classroom just as the warning bell rings. Chad follows me. He takes an empty seat up front. He’s not in his uniform, but still he’s much older than the rest of the class. Besides, like the sheriff said last night, it’s a small town. Most of them know who he is. They start to whisper and shoot looks in my direction.

  “How come you’re in here?” Brent, Mrs. Dickerson’s son, taps Chad on the back with his pencil. I almost groan out loud. Once he tells his mother Chad was here and if Will and the others show up the way I’m worried that they might, she’ll get us all thrown out of school.

  I find my seat in the back. I look out the window and watch a little gray bird dart in and out of a tree as I wait for Will and the rest of them to show up. It makes me think about the owl and my stomach roils all over again. I will never get the image of it dying out of my head.

  My stomach seems to be tying itself into tighter and tighter knots every minute. I squirm in my seat. Are they going to skip school today?

  All at once there’s a commotion out in the hall. I hear shouts and whistles and laughter and even before I see them I know that they’ve done it. Please no. But there’s no point in hoping for a different outcome now. It’s too late.

  Brian appears in the doorway first, followed by Heather, Julie, and finally Will. Brian’s the only one looking up, meeting everyone’s wide-eyed looks with his jaw clenched and his eyes flashing. His lack of hair probably doesn’t bother him nearly as much as the others. He’d buzzed it down to match Jonathan’s a few days ago. What’s another inch? He marches in and the others follow, but much slower.

  Each and every one of them has a shiny head, completely free of hair and so pale and smooth that it shines under the overhead lights. They didn’t try to disguise it at all. Will looks up and his eyes meet mine and I watch him deflate a little. It takes me a moment to realize that he was hoping that my head would be shaved too. Heather and Julie won’t look at me at all. They just keep their eyes on the floor. They’re holding hands, their shoulders pressed tightly together. Seeing them without hair makes me want to cry. All around me the other students are gasping and laughing and pointing. Some look disturbed, but most just look entertained, like this is some kind of joke.

  “Whoa, what have you freaks gone and done?” Brent shouts out.

  “Cut it out,” Chad says, glaring at Brent. He pulls out his two-way radio and starts talking into it. I can’t stop myself from thinking about the walkie-talkies earlier. I want to be angry with all of them, to confront them about this morning, but then I remember how upset Will was after Pioneer and the other men killed all our horses just before we went into the Silo. He doesn’t have the stomach for something like that—even if he’s angry with me, he’d never be okay with what happened to that owl.

  The other students start to laugh, a series of staccato bursts that make Will and the rest of them wince. They aren’t making fun of them so much as laughing because the baldness makes them nervous. I get that—it makes me nervous too.

  Julie lifts her chin and smiles. It’s a wobbly, unsure sort of smile, but as soon as Heather joins her, it becomes stronger, more sure. They stand shoulder to shoulder and face the classroom. It’s almost like a curtain goes down inside of their eyes or something. They seem to look right through everyone. Will moves closer to them and so does Brian. They start to chant.

  The Brethren will save us.

  Pioneer guides and protects us.

  We will look to them alone

  In all that we do

  In all that we say

  In all that we believe.

  Watching them makes my heart feel as if it’s going to break in two. I can’t tell if they really believe what they’re saying anymore or if they just can’t face the possibility that they don’t, not after all that’s happened and all they’ve done.

  Even Brent goes quiet as they start the chant all over again. It’s so disturbing to watch, even he can’t find something funny about it.

  Chad moves down the aisle toward Will and the others. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. Time to go.” He puts a hand on Brian’s arm and Brian jerks away, chants louder, right in Chad’s face. The classroom door opens and Mr. Geddy and the other deputies assigned to the school rush in.

  Will and Brian hold tight to the girls and chant even louder. They’re shouting now. Heather and Julie look less scared all the time and more and more excited. You can feel their fervor in the air. It’s electric. Will glances down at me. I can see the unspoken plea in his eyes and it’s heartbreakingly desperate. He knows I won’t join them and yet he wants me to.

  The deputies begin to surround them and corral them out the door. They don’t fight, but they don’t stop chanting either. The whole class watches as they move through the door single file. No one talks at first, we just listen to the chanting as it grows softer and finally dies out.

  Once they’re gone, every student turns to stare at me. I may not have gotten up to chant, but even now they still see me as one of them. I feel bruised and fragile, ready to break. I don’t know how to be here right now, after what just happened.

  Before I know it, I’m turning and rushing out the door, down the two hallways I’m most familiar with to the supply room Jack showed me, the only place in the entire school where I’ll be able to take a moment to breathe. I don’t even care that it reminds me of the Silo. All I care about is getting five minutes of peace.

  I push my way through the door and rush headlong into the musty space. It’s dark and quiet and still, which only serves to emphasize the storm raging inside me. I run into one of the desks in my hurry and bang my shin. Crying out, I growl in the desk’s direction and kick the desk leg and it feels so good that I don’t stop, I just keep kicking it over and over. The desk scoots backward with every kick, scraping against the dingy linoleum. The sound is grating and awful, but satisfying.

  “Bad day?” someone calls out from the back corner of the room. I peer into the darkness and can just make out the scuffed tips of Jack’s boots. She leans forward so I can see her face. Jack grins, her mouth curving open enough so that I notice the gap between her two front teeth. “I was just listening to the vice principal’s meeting with the PTA ladies. From the sound of it, they’re still trying to boot your group out of school.” She points at the vent. The voices coming out of it are loud and angry-sounding.

  I’m breathing hard enough that it takes me a minute to answer. “I thought I was alone.” I’m hoping she’ll hear the edge in my voice and take what I’ve said as a hint for her to leave, but she seems to miss it completely.

  “What happened?” Jack looks at my face, studies it like the answer to her question will write itself across my face.

  “Why do you want to know? So you can put it in your paper?” I know that she apologized for trying to interview me
before. I’m out of line, but I can’t help myself. I need to lash out at someone. She just happens to be the only one here.

  She slides off the desk she’s been perched on and walks closer to me. “I swear I’d only write an article if it was okay with you—which, truthfully, is sort of out of character for me, but I guess I’m turning over a new leaf and all of that. If you need to talk, talk. I’m a pretty good listener.”

  “Okay,” I say, arms crossed around my chest. “Please be someone I can trust.” I hadn’t exactly meant to say that last part out loud, but I did and now it’s too late to take it back. It’s just that I really do need someone to talk to, someone who isn’t Cody, someone who can just be my friend. Cody’s a great listener and I feel like I can tell him a lot, but he’s a guy and I like him and sometimes this muddles my thoughts instead of clarifying them.

  Jack’s face goes serious. “Okay. I will be. I mean, I am.” She says this formally, like an oath or something, and I feel the knots in my stomach start to loosen. She holds out a hand and we shake on it.

  “Okay,” I say again. I look around for somewhere to settle. I have a feeling that once I start talking I might not be able to stop.

  “Look, we don’t have to do this here. I know it’s not comfortable for you. We could take off … maybe get a coffee or something?” Jack pulls me toward the stairs. “You seem like you have a lot to get off your chest.” She looks down at my boobs. “No pun intended,” she says. I surprise myself and laugh.

  “Won’t we get in trouble for ditching?” I ask as she pulls me up the steps.

  “Only if we get caught.” Jack leads us down a maze of hallways so fast that I don’t have time to pay attention to which ones they are or how to retrace our steps, and suddenly we’re outside, the wind whipping our hair into our faces, our school bags slapping our thighs as we trot to her car. I’m not sure if it’s the crispness of the air or the sure pull of Jack’s hand, but I feel better, even though I haven’t told her anything yet. And maybe that’s wrong after this morning and what happened just now with Will and the others. If Cody realizes that I’m gone, he’ll worry, and the sheriff … will go ballistic. Sneaking off is completely out of character for me. It’s impulsive and reckless and utterly thoughtless and somehow the only thing that’s managing to make me not want to kick something. As scary as this morning was, I don’t want to tell Jack I can’t go. Besides, we’ll be in the middle of town somewhere, surrounded by lots of people. So far they’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make sure that I’m the only one who sees their threats. This might be the best possible way to keep myself safe.