Why do we avoid the outside world?
Because they can’t conceive of a people as beautiful,
kind, and loving as ours. And because they don’t understand us,
they will surely make it their mission to destroy us.
—Pioneer
I’ve never been in an ambulance before, but I’ve seen them in the movies. Usually the person being rocketed to the nearest hospital is seconds away from death, and the EMT next to them is holding electric paddles over their chest. They’re always injured doing something worthy of a hospital visit—gunning down bad guys or falling from buildings before they blow up. But not me. I manage to get knocked on my butt by an old lady driving an even older car in the Walmart parking lot. It would almost be funny, actually, if my parents hadn’t been there to see the whole thing. My mom’s probably in worse shape mentally than I am physically.
The EMT crouches next to me and busily wraps things around my arms and hooks me up to some machines that make beeping noises. I’m still not really sure why I’m even in the ambulance. I don’t feel like anything’s really wrong. I guess I hit my head on the road when I fell. The EMT said I lost consciousness for a little bit. I do have a pretty wicked headache, but other than feeling like I’ve been run over by a car—which I have, ha, ha—I’m pretty sure nothing on me is broken. The old lady couldn’t have been driving that fast. I mean, maybe it was faster than she was supposed to be going, but it wasn’t highway speed. I basically stepped into her bumper and ricocheted off.
I want to sit up. I feel sort of silly lying down. I’m still holding out hope that I can convince the EMT to stop the ambulance and let me out so I can climb back into the truck and head home, pretend like none of this ever happened. I’m sure my parents would be relieved if I did. They have to be panicked that I’m hurt enough to be hospitalized, and also because we’ve attracted unwanted attention—and not just for us, but for the Community as well.
I try to avoid looking at the EMT. She’s asking me questions, lots of them. I’m not sure how to answer them without my parents close by to help me. I close my eyes. I’m tired and shutting them against the bright overhead light feels really, really good.
The EMT taps my arm. “Hey, Lyla, try to stay awake, honey.”
I open my mouth to answer her, but talking seems like such an effort. If I can just close my eyes, I know I’ll feel clearer.…
The ambulance ride becomes disjointed. I keep opening my eyes when the EMT jostles me, but the minute she stops, I close them again. This happens over and over before the ambulance lurches to a stop and I’m lifted out and into the even brighter afternoon sun. It’s strange being moved around this way, lying down, strapped to a very skinny bed.
The hospital is another first for me—all bright lights and funny smells that aren’t entirely covered up by the bleach they’ve apparently cleaned with. I don’t like it, not that I had any real illusions that I would. I get poked and prodded several times over and then taken to a few different rooms for various tests, the names of which I either haven’t quite caught or can’t retain. Eventually I end up in a room with a view of a single tree and a brick wall. I’m in the only bed and my mom is sitting stiffly on the edge of the chair beside it. There’s a television in the upper left-hand corner of the room, but it’s not on.
“They say that you have to stay here tonight,” my mom says as she brushes my hair off my face and onto the pillow.
“But I feel fine.” I try to say this with a smile, but moving my face intensifies the thunder in my head. I grimace instead. My left leg is tender all along the thigh where the car hit it. I’m starting to realize that I’m a little achy everywhere now, like my whole body rearranged itself on impact. My tailbone and head hurt the worst; both struck the ground pretty hard, I think.
My mom kisses my forehead in that overly glommy way of hers. I always have to make myself not recoil when she does this, because I know it will only hurt her feelings, but it’s too frantic and smothery.
“They want to make sure you’re okay. They said you have a concussion and they want to monitor you in case there’s swelling.” She’s smiling, but the hand on my forehead is shaky.
“But we aren’t supposed to be here,” I whisper, my eyes straying to the open door in case someone’s already there, eavesdropping. “Pioneer says …”
“If we try to leave, it’ll only make things worse. If we’re smart about this and give them as little information about the Community as we can, we might be able to get through this without making anyone too curious. But you have to leave the talking to your father and me. Just stay calm, okay?” My mom’s voice is harsh. It confirms what I know in my heart to be true. Our situation is precarious. One wrong answer or slip of information and we will single-handedly make the Community too much of a curiosity.
“What do you want me to do?” I say, and throw one arm over my eyes to block out the light and the possibility of more of her kisses.
“Be polite, but quiet. Don’t offer any information that they haven’t asked for directly. And above all, make sure to let them know that we are just a simple farming community focused on growing our own foods and living a simple life. No matter what, don’t mention anything about Pioneer’s dreams or anything else.”
“I’m not an idiot, Mom,” I say, but then maybe she sort of has a case for my being one, since I’ve started walking in front of moving cars. “Where’s Dad?”
“They needed him to fill out some forms.” She sighs heavily. “There’s no health insurance … which complicates things.”
“What about all of the supplies? We’re supposed to be on the way back right now.”
“Your father’s going to drive them back after he’s done and then come back in the morning. He has to let Pioneer know what’s happened.”
“What about you?” I ask, and am surprised at how clingy I feel. I don’t want to be here alone.
“Staying here with you, of course.” She tilts her head toward the chair. “The nurse is bringing me blankets. Supposedly that thing turns into a bed.” She points to the chair and we both eyeball it.
It gets quiet for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say, my voice tighter in my throat than usual. I feel like there’s so much I should say, but the words pile up inside my throat. There’s too many of them trying to get out all at once. I have to work to swallow. It feels like I’m choking.
My mom breathes in and out slowly. “I know.”
“I just don’t like worrying you.”
“You’ve never done it on purpose, Lyla, I know that. But you’re a child. Worrying me is part of your job description. Just like the actual worrying is part of mine. That’s why I’ll be so glad to finally be in the Silo. You can’t do much to worry me there.” Her mouth curls up the slightest bit.
My dad checks on me briefly before leaving. He tucks my blankets under and around me tightly from my shoulders to my feet the way he used to when I was little and I thought monsters might be able to slither under the covers if there were any gaps.
“Lyla burrito,” he says with a smile, and then presses his lips into my hair. “Get some rest.”
“You’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning, right?”
“Before the sun’s even all the way up,” he promises.
My mom follows him to the door. “Be just a minute, sweetie,” she tells me.
I fiddle with my bed while I wait for her to come back from walking my dad to the truck. The buttons that lift it are entertaining. I raise my feet higher than my head and then my head higher than my feet before all of the movement makes me dizzy and sick. I stare at the ceiling and then out the window. Television’s out. Even if I wanted to watch, I couldn’t. My mom gave the nurses the remote as soon as she came across it. Pioneer would want us to keep the Community’s rules, especially here. Eventually I stare out at the hallway and watch the nurses go back and forth. It’s pretty quiet. I don’t see any other people. I wonder how many other p
eople are out there in rooms just like mine.
I wish I had my sketchbook so I could sketch some of the nurses, but it’s all the way across the room in my backpack. I’m not up to getting out of bed and retrieving it. Instead I settle for the tiny notepad in my bedside table with CULVER CREEK HOSPITAL written across the top and the pen that was with it when I found it. But then I don’t know what to draw, and besides, it’s really hard to concentrate. I end up making random doodles, a maze of squiggly lines and circles.
“Knock, knock.”
Cody’s in my doorway, leaning against the frame. My mouth drops open, but no sound comes out. What is he doing here? is my first thought, but a close second is, I must look awful.
“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he says. He fiddles with a plastic Walmart bag that he’s got gathered up in one hand.
“How did you know how to find me?”
He laughs and rubs his chin. “Uh, you were in a car accident—it was pretty much a given that you’d end up here.”
“I mean how did you know which room?” I say as my face fills with heat. “Do they just let anyone have that information?”
His ears start turning red. He looks back at the door. “My dad kinda has some pull around here … but listen, if you’d rather I go, I will. I wasn’t trying to stalk you or anything. I just … saw you go down in the parking lot. I needed to know that you weren’t seriously hurt, you know?”
He flashes me a tiny smile and I smile back.
“So how are you?” he asks as he inches closer to my bed.
“Bored,” I say. “Hospitals are really, really boring.”
“Well, I think I might be able to help with that,” he says. He holds up the Walmart bag before handing it to me. Inside are three magazines and the book I was looking at in the store.
“Thought Mr. Spandex could keep things interesting.” He points to the book cover. We both laugh.
“Thanks.”
I don’t know what to do. I should give it back to him. I can’t exactly keep this stuff in plain sight for my mom to see. Plus, enough stuff’s gone wrong already, why make it worse? On the other hand, if I can manage to hide them and smuggle them out tomorrow, I’ll still be able to keep my promise to Marie and for once look like the daring, adventurous one, especially after they find out that I got hit by a car and survived. Cody obviously went to some trouble to bring them to me, and I don’t want to be rude and give them back.
The room has gone silent again.
“Um, I really wish you could stay, but my mom’ll be back any minute now and she isn’t real big on strangers.”
“I noticed. Protective, isn’t she?”
“Protective is an understatement,” I say. “At least when it comes to me.”
“How about if I promise to keep one eye on the hallway at all times? Can I stay then?”
I don’t respond, but he makes no attempt to leave. I’m disappointed with myself over how happy this makes me.
“I get it. You keep to yourselves at all costs, right? No fraternizing with strangers.”
I don’t know what to say to this, so I just ignore it altogether. “Thanks again for these.” I smooth my hand across the glossy book cover.
His mouth curls up at one end and my stomach rolls over. “My pleasure.”
I need to tell him to go. Now. Thank him and say goodbye. Mom’ll be back any minute.
Cody sits on the edge of the bed. His hip touches my leg and a thrill runs through me when he doesn’t move it away. This is so stupid and yet I obviously don’t care. If I did, he’d already be gone. I would’ve kicked him out right away.
“Honestly, I’m glad I had an excuse to try and see you again,” he says.
“Why?” I really want to know. I can’t imagine why he would want to see me, even though I can name at least a dozen reasons why I want him to keep trying.
“Truthfully?” He blushes. “I don’t know. I mean, you’re not exactly like any other girls I know. And you might be fairly cute, which helps.” His blush spreads and he smiles. “But I think mostly it’s because you sort of intrigue me. You’re more smothered by your parents and your situation than I’ve ever been by mine, and yet you don’t seem to notice that much … or even really mind. I don’t get it.”
I’m not sure if this is a compliment or not. I decide to hold on to the part where he said he thought I was cute.
“I guess I want to figure you out.” He winks at me and I melt a little.
He looks toward the door. “Listen, my dad’s gonna be coming in here in a few minutes to talk to you about the accident and then I’m guessing your parents will be back in here too. I was thinking … maybe afterward—after your parents leave—I can come back?”
“Um, I don’t see how. My mom’s not leaving. She’s staying in here all night,” I sigh. It seems like all we keep doing is finding more ways to say goodbye.
He frowns and we both get quiet before a slow grin spreads across his face. “What if I can manage to get you out of your room with her blessing?”
I snort. “Impossible.” I lie back on my pillow and stare at the ceiling.
“We’ll see,” he says.
There are some noises out in the hall beyond the door, and both of us jump a little. Cody leans over and pats my shoulder. Our faces are so close that for a moment I’m sure he might kiss me.
“I’ll see you soon,” he whispers, and then he’s up and out the door before I remember how to breathe.
I hide the magazines and book under my mattress. I’m definitely keeping them now.
Cody isn’t gone for more than a minute or two before my mom emerges from the hallway. The time between his leaving and her returning is short enough to make me squirm. Did she see him? She looks agitated but not completely flipped out. I barely have time to feel relieved, though, because the door opens all over again and Cody’s dad walks in.
I didn’t pay much attention to him when I saw him last. I was too wrapped up in Cody. He’s a great tree trunk of a man, much larger than I remember. Maybe it’s because I’m lying down and he’s standing up or maybe it’s because the room is fairly narrow, but he seems giant-sized. He leans over the bed and holds out his hand.
“Hey there, Lyla. Nice to see you again. Sure wish we were meeting back up over more pleasant circumstances, though.”
I shake his hand. His grip is firm and warm. I look for Cody in his face, but they don’t seem to resemble one another much. Cody’s features are sharper, finer. The sheriff’s are all broad strokes: wide nose, wider chin, full cheeks. His hair is close-cropped and equal parts gray and black.
“Mind if I sit?” He points to the chair before sitting in it. It creaks loudly under his weight. “So, how’re you feeling?”
“She’s sore, but fine. The doctor said that if she doesn’t show signs of swelling or a more severe concussion, she can go home tomorrow,” Mom answers for me before I can even open my mouth.
The sheriff smiles at her. “That’s good … real good. Ma’am, I’d like to have a moment here with Lyla. Alone. If that’s all right?”
“Why? I’m sure I can help you more than she can. She’s a bit fuzzy about what happened,” Mom says with a smile that’s just a little too wide for her face.
“Strictly procedural stuff, ma’am. I just need her take on things so I know whether or not the driver involved needs to be charged with anything. You’re more than welcome to stay, it’s just I know the nurses needed to ask you some questions and I thought maybe since I’m here with Lyla this might be the perfect time. I’m sure it won’t take long at all and then you can help me fill in any gaps right after. I’ll be out of your hair just as soon as I get what I need for my report.”
His smile matches hers. His voice is firm. Reluctantly, my mom folds. She huffs out a breath. “All right. Fine. But I’ll be right outside if you need me.” She gives me a long look on her way out. I nod just a little to let her know that I’ll be careful.
The sheriff wrestle
s his way out of his seat and walks over to the door. He waits for my mom to go all the way out into the hall and then shuts it. He smiles at me as he returns to his seat. I try to occupy myself with straightening the covers over my legs so I won’t look nervous.
He watches me for a moment.
“There’s no need to be nervous. I’m just going to ask you a few questions. Nothing too difficult, okay?”
I nod. He seems satisfied and leans back in his chair. “Let’s start with what you remember about the accident.”
I tell him about our trip to the Walmart. I briefly mention seeing Cody inside and my cheeks burst into flame, but if he notices, he doesn’t react. He keeps his expression neutral as I talk, all the way up to the end, when I describe crossing the parking lot. I leave out the part about seeing Cody again and how it made me turn around. I say I forgot something in the truck and went back for it.
After I’m done, he asks me some questions about what I’d noticed about the car before it hit me. Did it seem like it was going fast? Had I noticed it at all when I crossed the parking lot the first time?
My nerves have just started to settle down when he leans forward and looks at my neck. “Medics said you have a pretty ugly gash on the back of your neck there—not from this accident. How’d that happen?”
I can’t keep my hands from traveling to the fresh bandage on my neck. Pioneer’s punishment. “Oh, that. That’s nothing. Really. I don’t even really remember getting it.” I try to smile. “I think I brushed up against a nail or something in the barn and it scratched me.”
The sheriff looks at me carefully. “That must’ve been some nail. What were you doing—scratching up against it like a cat?”
I look away, out the window at the tree outside. “Uh … yep, I mean no, I just, um, brushed up against it … like I said.”
Turns out I am the world’s worst liar.
He nods to himself. I can see his head bobbing out of the corner of my eye. “Okay, Lyla, one more question and then I promise I’ll let you get some rest.”
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