“Ah.” He nods his understanding. “I think everyone’s seen my shiner and made their assumptions. What about you? Why are you favoring your left arm?”
“Ask your sister.”
Ansel leans against one of the rough, cedar-planked walls. “Do I want to know?”
“An Outsider from school was in the woods. Annalise saw me talking to him and assumed I told him where we lived. Her arrow accidently skimmed my arm.”
“That sounds like my sister. Shoot first, ask questions later. Was it over anyone special?”
I hesitate in giving him that answer because there’s an underlying insinuation in his question. Pausing only makes it seem like I’m hiding something, so I glance up at him from my crouched position and say, “Rémy Lamar.”
No big deal.
The battery-operated lanterns are casting feathery shadows across his eyelids. If he weren’t studying me so inquisitively, the shadowy fringe of his eyelashes would hit his brows, making him cartoon-sinister. As it is, he looks more dejected than angry.
“Oh. Him.” His expression dulls further. “What was he doing out here?”
“He said he was taking photos.” I zip my EDC and search through Birdie’s bag.
“Of?”
“Stuff in the woods.” I stand and toss a bruised apple through the circular window for some lucky animal to find.
“You were in the woods,” he says. “My mom and sister were in the woods. I was on my way to bug out with some of the Burrow Boys in the woods.”
I stop riffling through my sister’s EDC pockets. “What are you saying? Rémy Lamar, soccer player and yearbook staff photographer, was purposely in the woods to spy on us? For what?”
“I didn’t say that, you did. You’re the one who talks to him.”
“It was just a coincidence.”
“Okay. But maybe Daniel and Birdie aren’t the only ones acting like Romeo and Juliet.”
“That’s ridiculous. Of course I talk to him. He’s in my classes.”
Rémy is an Outsider who happens to be in my classes, just like anyone else. Twenty minutes ago Ansel claimed he was starting to realize other people’s love lives weren’t his business, so who is he to press the issue? The truth is Rémy has asked me out, sort of, not really, and I’ve mostly declined. The only reason Ansel would press me on him is if someone—namely Annalise—filled his ears with tales of me and Rémy long before seeing us in the woods. That’s the thing about the compound. It’s like a smaller town inside a small town when it comes to gossip.
I pull out our family’s shared cellphone. I’m immediately relieved the screen isn’t cracked, because it’s one less thing to worry about when it comes to Mother. I press the Power button to fire it up, but the battery’s dead. You win some, you lose some.
“You have everything you need?” He rubs his temples.
“Yeah. I just need to charge this when I get home. You okay?”
“I’ve had a headache since I went to bug out. I just need to head back and get some sleep.”
Ansel starts turning off lanterns.
“Wait.”
He stands slowly from his crouched position, curiosity narrowing his familial blue eyes.
“I don’t know if you can tell me this, but I’m curious about Daniel’s parents. How they died.”
“He never told Birdie?”
“It didn’t seem like he had last night when he was telling us about Thane being the only guy he knew of that your dad sent on a solo mission.” I sling my EDC across my back, hoping he’ll tell me more.
“Those two things are related.” He extinguishes all but one light. “Daniel’s dad was a combat medic in the military. Different branch than my father. I guess you can say your mom filled that position on the compound after he died. Alice knows much more about medicine and pharmacology than Daniel’s father ever did, but he could treat wounds. Thane was a different story. A loose cannon, always wanting to change things, or be named as co-leader. He didn’t think leaving me in charge if something should happen to my father was a good idea, so he started pulling rank, initiating middle-of-the-night trainings, claiming my father asked him to set up simulated raids. Stuff like that. During one of those simulations, Thane got hurt. The Burrowers who were raided didn’t know it was a drill, and he got stabbed.”
“By who? Daniel’s dad?”
“No. David Dobbs was in the wound healing business. Long story short, my father told Thane if he wanted to stay he had to follow rules that were already in place. He sent him to bug out so Thane could decide whether or not he wanted to be part of our coalition or take his chances alone when the shit hits the fan. Speculation was spreading that Thane might be talking to the feds. Telling them about our stockpiles, guns, ammo. Wrong radar stuff. But they were friends once upon a time, military brothers, and because he was injured my dad was more lenient. He asked Daniel’s father to follow him. See how Thane was doing, decide if he was gonna play by the rules or go rogue. Thane didn’t trust military doctors after the Gulf War, but since he let Daniel’s father treat his injuries on the garrison, my dad figured it would go okay. They found David Dobbs’s body in the woods with his throat cut, and Thane was nowhere to be found. Nobody has the full story since none of us were there. But Daniel’s mother wasn’t the same afterward. She didn’t trust any of us, and a few months later she took her own life.”
My stomach sinks to point of nausea. “That’s terrible. How could she do that when she still had a son that needed her?”
Ansel hangs his head. “I don’t know. She was distraught and depressed. My father was named as Daniel’s next legal guardian in their will.”
“Wait. He sent Daniel out alone after what happened to his dad? I’m sorry, Ansel. I know he’s your father, but that seems callous.”
Ansel takes the deepest breath, and the shadow on the wall moves with him in unison like a grim puppet. “Daniel is well trained for survival, Honey. He knows the rules. Never tell anyone the location of the compound or bunkers. Keep prepping to yourself. Be alert of what others are saying. When the SHTF it’s us against them. Stay below the radar.” He counts them off with his fingers and I bristle.
“You don’t have to recite them to me. I know. But he’s just a kid that got caught doing something he shouldn’t have been asked to do in the first place. To be fair, your sister is the one who jumped in and took over the mission, sort of like Thane.”
“I don’t disagree. Trying to go undetected among Outsiders was a risk. We thought we had it covered. We did until Annalise showed up. Daniel only got caught because he ate up time trying to get Birdie out of there. The only thing the rest of us can do now is stay vigilant about what happened and pretend like he acted rashly, alone. So if I don’t talk to you at school, it’s not personal. It’s because I’m not sure this is over yet.”
“I thought your dad took care of everything?”
“He did. He is. Just, try to keep clear of whatever shakes out from all this if you can.”
“You know I can’t do that when it comes to my sisters.”
“Try,” Ansel says. “For your own sake, and theirs.”
I take both EDCs and make my way down the ladder. I got more information out of Ansel than I expected, but I’m mad everyone is still keeping secrets. If this thing isn’t actually over then it’s my job to make sure Birdie doesn’t stir the pot. Daniel said he trusted Ansel. I have to trust him, too.
Ansel offers me a ride on his bike, giving me the seat while he stands and pedals through the trees. We bounce around and over rocks. Me, holding tight to his jacket without wrapping my arms around his waist. I bite back the pain a few jarring obstacles send into my shoulder. Ansel turns off the six-hundred-lumen flashlight strapped to his handlebars as we approach the edge of our property, so much faster than I would have made it here on foot.
I jump off the seat, but immediately dig my fingers into his forearm when I spot Mother walking up the path to our front door.
�
�Back up,” I whisper. “Into the trees.”
Ansel walks his bike backward out of sight then presses the illumination button on his watch to check the time. “It’s almost one a.m. You think she’s just getting back from being with my dad?”
Before I can tell him I don’t know, I spot the beam from another flashlight switch off. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“Over there.” I point to the trees in the direction Mother would take to get to The Burrow. If she walked. It’s far enough that driving would make more sense, especially with eggs and test tubes in tow. “I thought I saw another flashlight turn off. Do you think it’s your dad?”
“I’ll take the woods,” Ansel says. “If I get caught, I’ll just say … I don’t know what I’ll say. I’ll think of something on the ride. You all right to go inside?”
“I’m taking the trellis.”
“Don’t get caught.”
“I won’t. But if I do, I’ll blame you. Tell Mother we’re madly in love.”
“You might try to sound more convincing.”
He sounds disappointed again. The truth is I never even considered it, him, Ansel. Unless Birdie’s ribbing me about him. The best I can do is smile, blowing off the awkwardness. “Thanks for the lift. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck. You’re more than capable of getting inside undetected. In fact, I think you’re capable of almost anything.”
Ansel turns his bike around and disappears through the trees before I can say he gives me too much credit.
I slink across the yard in a wide arc, hunching to remain unseen past the windows. I make it around the house to the cucumber trellis and strap one EDC on my back, the other to my front. It’s much harder to climb with Birdie’s bag catching on the wood. I make it onto the roof and turn to look for the flashlight I saw earlier. The trees are dark. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me. I lift the window sash slowly and wriggle inside. I only take one step inside when I hear a creak on the stairs. Then another, and a third. I stand as still as a statue.
I will not get caught and profess false love for Ansel Ackerman. I don’t move an inch for what seems like ten minutes but in reality is probably thirty seconds. The creaks are followed by Mother’s footsteps moving across the floor downstairs this time. I exhale and tiptoe to my bed, carefully unlacing my boots and sliding them off. My sisters are still asleep. The room looks undisturbed. Mission accomplished.
I lower myself onto my mattress and mull over everything Ansel told me.
Birdie is lying on her side with the comic she’s been drawing next to her head, along with a yellow origami bird. I didn’t know she could make those. I watch her for a minute, wondering if I should wake her up and tell her what I learned about Daniel’s parents, or keep it to myself for now. She’s stressed enough. I’ll let her think things are okay until they’re not. Knowing more about the night Thane got sent away won’t ease her anxiety over Daniel.
I know I should go straight to bed, but I’ve broken through exhaustion and could stay up for another hour or so, although I’ll pay for it in the morning. I grab my notebook and plug our phone into the outlet near my bed so it’ll start charging when the power comes back on. Just a few more minutes, twenty tops, and I’ll rack out. Right after I write a quick letter to Bucky.
Dear Bucky,
When we first moved here, I swore not to make any friends. I wasn’t even willing to try. Now, I feel protective of Rémy Lamar. The guy who’s always got his camera pointed at me. He was in the woods today where he shouldn’t have been, within the compound boundaries. He was looking for the same treehouse where I met Ansel tonight to get Birdie’s EDC. I lied and told Rémy the treehouse didn’t exist. It’s better if he thinks it’s some urban legend. A hidden Podunk, Washington myth made to keep people wandering around the woods in search of another Bigfoot. Only he had a map, marked with a red line by Mr. Whitlock that was clearly pointing him toward the compound. If Birdie’s right, why would Mr. Whitlock give that to him? Maybe that’s why he asked Rémy to stay after class yesterday? I thought for sure he’d ask the same of me, but nope. Honestly, I don’t know what it is about Rémy Lamar that makes people like and trust him so much. He made a joke in the woods tonight about wanting to be our D’Artagnan, and my first thought was that position is already taken. By you, of course. If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll earn my trust before TEOTWAWKI. Not that any of us will be lucky when the SHTF. But especially not Outsiders. I’m almost done painting a self-portrait at school. Rémy helped me with my eyes by calling them sugar-pine bark. A real romantic, this guy. I hope you know that’s a joke. He and my art teacher, Ms. Everitt, want me to enter it in a national self-portrait scholarship. They have no idea Mother thinks making art is a waste of time. She makes sure we keep up with our schoolwork, though, and have good grades. She’s nothing if not an enigma. The good news is I got Birdie’s EDC back from Ansel and I’m charging our phone. Everyone has been acting weird since they set off the flash-bang grenades at school. Weird, even for us. Ansel told me to stay clear of the whole thing until it blows over. I thought it had. But you know I can’t do that when it comes to Birdie. I will tell you this, though. If one more person says they don’t remember something that happened around the whole flash-bang grenade thing, I might lose it. The only forgiving theory I can think of is there might be something toxic in our soil, making people forgetful. I saw a news story once about a guy that died after inhaling mold spores in his garden compost. And when we lived in New England and studied the Salem Witch Trials, we learned the ergot fungus found in the rye they grew was attributed by some scholars to the accused villagers’ bizarre behavior. Ergot is the same fungus used to make LSD. All of which begs me to question whether our dirt or compost could be contaminated. How else do you explain lapses in memory? If I’ve learned anything while living here, it’s to pay attention to my gut instincts and how people behave. And lately, I’m seeing a big uptick in nervousness, rash decisions, and forgetfulness. I had my own memory blip today, but I’m not sure it’s related. I’ll mention it to Mother. Chemistry is a big hitter in her wheelhouse.
I’ll keep you posted. Wish you were here for real.
Love,
Honey
EOD
END OF DAYS
I BOLT UPRIGHT like a corpse shocked by a defibrillator and reanimated. After getting roughly four hours of sleep, I feel close to dead. But if I don’t want to raise suspicion from Mother, it’s chores and business as usual. Sometimes it helps to remind myself that if we were in a post-apocalyptic situation, this would be normal. My sisters and I would have to do our part to keep things running, even on little sleep. But the tired is deep down in my bones today, making me shaky. An exhaustion on par with running a high fever in a body that does not want to obey and for which there is no medicine other than caffeine. It’s nice Ansel thinks I’m capable of almost anything. We’ll see if he’s right.
I swing my bare legs to the floor and toss my pillow at Birdie, hitting her peaceful face.
She moans and pulls her comforter up to her chin, knocking her hand-drawn comic onto the floor. “Five more minutes. Every teenager this side of the world gets to sleep in.”
“That’s factually inaccurate,” Blue tells her. Our youngest sister is already sitting up, rubbing the inner corner of her right eye. She’s still dressed in the All Of This Is Temporary shirt she was wearing yesterday. Let’s hope that irony extends to what happened at school and it is actually over, despite what Ansel implied.
“If I didn’t get four hours of sleep because I was out getting our phone and your EDC back, I might take your weak complaints more seriously.”
“You did?” She fights her way out from under her covers, all limbs punching and kicking. “Did Ansel say anything about Daniel? He should be back in two days.” Birdie’s version of sorry you had to break curfew to cover my ass.
I struggle to process her questions with my exhausted brain. Yes, I got it. Yes, he did.
Stay out of it.
Birdie lunges for the phone.
“I doubt it’s charged all the way. The power’s only been on for an hour.”
“It’s at eighty-five percent,” she announces.
“I saw your note,” Blue tells me. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It feels like I got grazed with an arrow going two hundred feet per second at close range.”
“Now that’s factually accurate.” Blue grins at me. “Ansel is so much nicer than his sister. It’s amazing they came out of the same womb.”
“On the same day,” I add. Ansel didn’t say, but I bet Annalise was born a minute later and resents her brother for being first on that, too.
“You want me to take a look at your stitches?”
I shake my head. “I’ll take care of it when I shower. Right now I need coffee. A milking bucket full of coffee.”
“Me, too. Just not as desperately as you.”
“Oh,” Birdie chirps. “That’s how he did it?”
Blue shakes her head at me with a tiny eye roll, acknowledging Birdie’s tendency to focus on herself and whatever she has on her mind.
“That’s how who did what?” I ask.
“Daniel. He left an origami chicken in the pocket of his jacket. The instructions on how to fold it were still open in the search window of our phone.”
“I thought you made that bird. Let me see.”
Birdie hands over the phone and I accidently swipe away the open screen with my thumb. Underneath the open search window there’s a text message from Daniel that says, A little birdie will tell you what you need to know.
A little birdie will tell you. A little birdie will tell you. A little birdie will tell you.
“Can I see it?”
“What?” Birdie gawks at me like I’m dumb for not remembering I just asked for the phone.
“The origami chicken.”
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