A Girl Undone

by Catherine Linka

  “All clear,” Luke said.

  I climbed back into my seat.

  He drove slowly, his gaze panning left, then right, like he was reading an unfamiliar landscape.

  “Have you ever been here before?” I said.

  “Once. A few years ago. Barnabas used to take me with him when he had to deliver the guitars he’d built. He sold to a store here, a few up around Casper, and Jackson Hole, and a couple in Spokane. So I’m not completely ignorant of the world outside Salvation.”

  I saw Luke’s face relax like he’d spied what he was searching for. A block later, he pulled into a lot beside a lawyer’s office and parked in a spot with a name painted on it.

  “Luke, they’ll tow the car if we leave it here.”

  “That’s my plan. Take your things.”

  “What are we doing?”

  “We’re walking from here.”

  I glanced at Luke’s face to see if he was joking, but he wasn’t. He reached in the glove compartment and took out a pistol, then stuck it in his pants under his coat. “You still have your gun?”

  “It’s in my pack,” I said. Stuffed in the bottom with the clip removed. “You want me to get it out?”

  “Nah, it’s still early. I think we’ll be fine.”

  I wrapped my scarf over my hair. Spiky wasn’t a popular hairstyle in Idaho and I didn’t want to be memorable.

  We were alone on the street, but I felt like I had “fugitive” painted on my back. We walked beside each other with our arms bumping before Luke felt for my hand. “We should look like a couple.”

  I wove my fingers into his, surprised at how lightly he held mine, despite how strong he was. His hand felt hot through my glove, making me think Luke was as nervous as I was.

  I tensed as cars drove by, letting out my breath after they passed. It had been years since I’d walked in the open without a bodyguard, and my neighborhood in L.A. didn’t count. There was a guardhouse and cameras on every street.

  The street ended at the train tracks, and Luke turned left. Gravel crunched under our boots as we walked along the tracks, sometimes shielded from the road by industrial buildings, only to be exposed by the empty parking lots between them. The nearest trees were on the other side of the tracks, and I wished we were over there.

  Cold burned my cheeks and the tip of my nose. The scent of bacon wafted from somewhere nearby. “That sure smells good,” Luke said.

  “Yeah, I’m starving.”

  “Maybe we can get some breakfast later.”

  Yeah, I thought. We could order the Fugitive Special. Make it to go, I could tell the waitress. We have to run.

  “Here’s the street,” Luke said, and we turned onto it, ducking our heads as a car went by.

  A chipped and faded sign for HISTORIC OLD TOWN pointed us to buildings with brick fronts and skinny, old windows that looked like they’d been there forever. Signs for department and jewelry stores, a coffee shop and a hotel hung outside abandoned businesses.

  I gripped Luke’s hand as we walked. Scarpanol had hit Pocatello hard. The planters outside the florist were empty, and the inside was a shell. The beauty salon windows were thick with dust, and the dress store had nothing in it but a few empty clothes racks. The only signs of life were the three bars and two burger joints.

  I wondered how many women had lost their lives, eating meat they thought was safe.

  Up ahead, I spied a brand-new sign outside the bank: TURN YOUR HOUSE INTO A HOME WITH A BRIDE MORTGAGE. A smiling cartoon house pointed to a bashful cartoon bride.

  I stopped in my tracks. “That’s disgusting.”

  Luke looked from me to the sign and tugged me along. “We need to keep moving.”

  “Why am I surprised that men buy brides up here? Salvation’s the only place I’ve ever seen where every girl can choose who she marries.”

  “You can help fix that, you know.”

  “I know.” I avoided his gaze. I couldn’t kill Signings and forced marriages, but the evidence I carried could wound the Paternalists badly.

  A sheriff’s car pulled onto the street and headed toward us. Luke quickened his pace. “Act like I said something funny.”

  As the black car came closer, I threw off Luke’s hand, crying “I can’t believe you said that!” and gave him a shove that made him stumble back against the brick storefront. Luke laughed and caught my hands, then held on tight, bugging out his eyes and wagging his lips like a goofy-looking fish. I pretended to laugh at his teasing while the patrol car rolled past. Then I heard it drive off, and Luke dropped my hands. “Sheriff’s gone. You can relax.”

  A steady stream of cars crisscrossed the intersection up ahead. We started walking again, our pace even faster than before. “We need to get off the street. How much farther?” I asked.

  “Not too much longer, I’m guessing.”

  I kept waiting for the patrol car to circle back for another look. It was another ten blocks before we stood outside a church. “This is it?”

  A plain cross topped a white-painted brick building the size of a basketball court. The windowpanes were simple gold and purple squares, but they were shiny clean.

  “Beattie told me they’ll help us,” Luke said.

  Spying the cross gave me hope that was true. “Are they part of Exodus? Maybe we should talk to them about going to Canada.”

  “You still hung up on getting to Canada? I thought you had a promise to keep.”

  My neck turned hot and I loosened my scarf. “I do—I intend to keep my promise—I’m just not sure of the safest way to do that right now.”

  Luke twisted up his mouth, and I half expected an argument, but then he waved his hand at the church and said, “How about we try going inside?”

  “All right.”

  We followed a sign with a red arrow pointing to the side of the church, where a set of steps led to a door marked OFFICE. The door was unlocked, and the smell of hot coffee greeted us. An older man wearing suspenders over his sweater stood behind a silver-haired woman as she typed on an ancient computer.

  A TV screen flickered in the corner. The sound was off, but I recognized the aerial shot of Salvation, the cabins scattered over the snow and the church covered in ripped strips of black solarskin that flapped in the breeze.

  “Luke,” I whispered. “We should leave.”

  “No, it’ll be fine.”

  The man peered at us over his wire-rimmed glasses. “Can I help you?”

  Luke stepped forward. “Mr. Beaufort?”

  “Yes?”

  “Beattie sent us.”

  The woman’s mouth fell open. She glanced from us to the TV. “When did you talk to her last?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Is she alive?”

  “She was when I left.”

  She dropped her head. “Ah, my baby!”

  The man squeezed her shoulder. “Vera and I’ve been so worried. We keep waiting to hear.”

  Beattie was older than my mom so it was hard for me to imagine her being Vera’s baby.

  “The church walls are real thick,” Luke explained. “And the windows are bulletproof. There’s a bunker under the church where everyone can take refuge if the church is breached.”

  “And the rest of the family?” the man said.

  “Keisha was safe in the bunker, and Cecilia was away. I wish I could tell you more.”

  The man came over and shook Luke’s hand. “Thank you.”

  Vera stumbled around the desk, walking as if one leg was shorter than the other. “It’s a shameful thing the government did—attacking its own people. Children. Innocents!”

  She took me in from the scarf over my hair down to my boots. “You were there. You’re the girl that sent out the distress call.”

  I looked to Luke, and he nodded.

  “Yes, that was me.”

  The man’s face went pale.

  “Harris,” Vera said. “We’ve got to help them.”

  Harris wiped a hand over his face, and I grabbed Luke�
�s sleeve. “We should leave, and get the car before it’s towed.”

  “No!” Vera said. “Harris Beaufort—we’ve waited days to find out about our daughter. We have to help them.”

  “Vera. Settle down, my flower. Of course we’re going to help them. I’m merely trying to think through how we’re going to do it.”

  “They need to get someplace safe.”

  “I know. I know.”

  Luke nodded at a construction-paper sign saying BARGAIN SHOP, taped to a nearby door. “Could we buy some new clothes from you?” I asked Vera.

  Her eyes formed a question that she didn’t ask. She fumbled in her sweater pocket and came up with a set of keys. “Come with me, the both of you.”

  We clambered after her down some narrow stairs, closing the door behind us. Luke leaned over my shoulder. “See, what did I tell you?”

  “I hope you’re right about this.”

  The stairs ended in a basement room filled with circular racks of used clothing and smelling of old carpet. “Men’s sizes on that wall. Girls’ in the middle. Don’t even think of paying,” Vera told us. “Just hang your old coats on the rack and we’ll call it even.”

  We heard the basement door open. “Vera,” Harris called down. “June from the ladies’ league is here.”

  She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Now of all times. You stay here till I come get you.”

  Vera walked up the stairs and flicked off the light. The key turned in the lock, and light filtered in through three small windows near the ceiling.

  “Did you hear that?” I said, scurrying over to the stairs. “She locked us in.”

  “Locked us in or locked somebody else out?” Luke unzipped his jacket as he strode over to a rack of parkas.

  I could hear muffled voices through the floor. “Not sure.” I climbed up on a rickety table and tried the latch on one of the windows. “Okay, we’re fine,” I said, feeling it give.

  Luke was going through the men’s coats, but there weren’t many to choose from, not like the racks of girls’ and women’s clothing that filled the room. Prom and wedding dresses lined the far wall, while more everyday things filled the center racks.

  Lots of the clothes looked barely worn and some still had price tags attached. I pictured hundreds of fathers emptying out their wives’ and daughters’ closets after Scarpanol ripped their families apart.

  And that thought carried me back to the line of Dumpsters outside the Rose Bowl back home buried under mountains of clothes that families couldn’t bear to keep.

  My throat tightened. You can’t go there now. You need to focus on changing your appearance.

  I found a powder-blue ski jacket, but before I hung my black one in its place, I retrieved the Canadian passport that Maggie’s assistant, Helen, gave me in Vegas.

  I peeked inside the cover, thinking I should toss it. I didn’t look anything like the photo. The customs agent who saw this would have to be a fool to believe it was me.

  It’s a long shot, but it’s the only one I’ve got, I thought, and zipped it into my new jacket.

  From a shelf piled with knit scarves, I picked a fuzzy white one with a matching hat and mittens. Snowflakes embellished with silver sequins were embroidered on the creamy wool.

  I pulled the hat over my hair and pouted in a nearby mirror. I looked like a soft, sweet kitten, not the dangerous revolutionary the media was spinning.

  Behind me, I saw Luke take off his cowboy hat. His blond-brown hair was tied into a short curly tail at the base of his neck. He stared down at his hat, holding it in both hands almost as if he was saying good-bye.

  I threaded through the racks until I stood beside him. “That hat must be special.”

  “Yup. My dad bought me this hat.”

  Dad or adopted dad, I didn’t ask. All I had left of home was the silver dolphin hanging around my neck that Becca, Yates’ sister, gave me. “Then you have to keep it,” I said and plucked a hat band with a big, flashy spray of brown feathers off a Stetson. “This look like something you’d wear?”

  “Never in a million years.”

  “Perfect.” I fastened it to his hat. “People will be so mesmerized by this stupid thing, they won’t bother to look at your face.”

  He smiled at me with gratitude and something else I couldn’t put my finger on. The back of my neck prickled. “I need to go pick out a shirt,” I said.

  Luke sorted through a case of used paperbacks while I found a shirt I’d never wear in real life. Lilac gingham check to go with a pale pink sweater. I made sure Luke’s back was turned, then peeled off my old shirt and put on the new one.

  A few minutes later, a car pulled away and Vera cracked the door. “You can come out now.” She locked the basement behind us.

  “Where’s Harris?” I said, seeing that he’d gone.

  “He’ll be back in a minute.”

  Then I realized both Luke’s and my packs were missing, too. “Wait, where are our packs?” I demanded.

  Vera started, and pointed under the desk. “Harris tucked them out of sight when June drove up.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m a little jumpy.”

  “It’s all right. No harm done.”

  Luke held up a yellowing copy of Killing Lincoln. “How much for this?” he asked Vera.

  She waved him off. “That? It’s on the house. Sorry to say, we don’t get many readers here anymore.”

  “Holy—” Luke crossed the room in two steps and squatted in front of the TV. Vera gasped, and I wheeled around and saw what they saw: an aerial shot of a line of men, women, and children marching out of Salvation’s church, hands over their heads.

  State troopers flanked both sides of the road. “Looks like they’re letting them go back to their houses,” Vera said.

  I crouched down beside Luke. “Do you recognize anyone?”

  He followed the line of people on the screen with his finger. “That’s Jemima’s family but I don’t see her. There’s Ramos and his wife and kids—”

  Vera wrapped her hands together and began to pray.

  I couldn’t tell who the people were. The shot was from far away and even Luke was guessing, counting how many adults and children went into each house.

  Come on, where’s Beattie and Keisha? I thought. Where’s Sarah and Jonas, Luke’s little brother and sister, and Nellie and Rogan, the mom and dad who raised him?

  We watched over a hundred people come out of that church, before the doors closed. Luke bowed his head. I twisted my fingers, wishing I had answers.

  “Where’s my daughter!” Vera cried. “Where’s my grandbaby?”

  “There’s forty people missing,” Luke said.

  I went through everyone I could remember before it clicked and I stood up. “The Council. The Council members and their families are all still in the church.”

  Vera looked at me, panicked.

  “I think it’s a good sign,” I said, wrapping my hand around hers. “I think it means they’re probably alive.”

  “Oh Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord.”

  Luke got to his feet. “I think Avie’s right. We should assume the people still inside are being questioned.”

  He sounded like Barnabas, the same calm under fire, but his jaw was clenched. He was trying not to freak Vera, but he didn’t believe his family was safe.

  The door swung open, and the smell of hot eggs and onions blew in. “Who’s hungry?” Harris called.

  “I know I am.” Luke walked toward him, faking a smile. “Whatever that is smells good.”

  Harris handed Luke a burrito. “What about you?” Harris asked me.

  “Yeah, thank you.” I tore back the foil and bit into the first hot food I’d had in four days. The cheesy eggs melted in my mouth as I watched Luke wolf down his, grateful he had something to take his mind off Salvation.

  Harris sipped his coffee. “You know your way around livestock, son?”

  “Yes, sir. Horses, and goats, mostly. I don’t know much about cattle.
”

  “That’s all right. I thought we might hitch you two a ride with a rancher needing to haul some stock.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “You know where you’re headed?”

  “Laramie,” Luke said.

  “Laramie? We’re not going back to—” Boise.

  Luke silenced me with a look. No Boise. Don’t even ask.

  “What about Canada?”

  Three sets of eyes landed on me. “Canada would be safer,” Vera murmured.

  “That’s not the direction we should be headed,” Luke said.

  I stared right back at him. Luke hadn’t been on the run for as long as I had. If he had, he’d think twice about dodging the feds for two thousand miles so we could hand over the evidence personally, and instead come up with a way to get it there without getting us killed.

  The room went silent while Luke and I pretended to be absorbed in what we were eating. Meanwhile, Vera rifled through a shoe box on a shelf.

  A moment later, she handed me a gold ring with a dusty chip that looked like a diamond. “Since you two are traveling together, you better look like man and wife.”

  The gold was scratched like someone had worn it a long time. I slid it on my ring finger and held up my hand so Vera could see it fit.

  “A little toothpaste will shine that right up,” she said.

  Luke frowned into his coffee. Maybe it was me disagreeing with what he wanted or maybe it was his family still trapped in Salvation, but he wasn’t happy.

  3

  Vera packed me into the car as soon as we were done with breakfast. “We’re going to Selena’s Dream,” she said. “Do a little something with your hair.”

  Vera wasn’t criticizing. She was trying to keep me alive.

  I smoothed the hat over my hair, surprised that Vera was driving me herself. I scanned the street for people who might be watching. Two women riding in a car alone? I was about to say something when Vera laid her purse between us on the front seat. A gun peeked out from a holster sewn right onto her shoulder bag. Vera was packing?

  “Wow. That’s handy,” I said.

  “One of the ladies in the hospital assistance league makes and sells them.” Vera gave the bag a pat. “A man better think twice before he messes with a woman in this town.”