Behind the Stars

by Leigh Talbert Moore

  Flora sat on the bench near the churn, a silver pail at her feet. She didn’t look as pale as she had earlier in the day, but her fatigue seemed stronger than ever.

  “Easier day?” I asked, lifting her pail of milk and carrying it to the wooden churn. She shrugged and turned to the side, leaning her head against the back of the bench. Her eyes blinked slowly closed.

  “Take a nap after lunch,” I said. “And remember what I told you about sitting by me.”

  She nodded, and I heard voices speaking low at the back of the barn. I looked up and saw Cato with her brother.

  “Why were you there if you didn’t learn about this?” Her lips were drawn tight, and I could tell she was working hard to control the volume of her voice. “That was your whole argument for going away. To be prepared if—”

  “It was only in my first year. Practicals didn’t start until second semester!”

  She looked up and caught me staring, so I quickly bent down and took Flora’s hand. “Come on, let’s get some lunch.”

  * * *

  My heart leaped as I approached the dining hall. Cleve was behind my brother, walking slowly in the mob that funneled into a line. Dropping Flora’s hand, I moved as casually as possible, pushing my way through the bodies to where Braxton and my brother waited. Cleve didn’t see me at first, but my brother did.

  “You’ve been avoiding me.” His voice was flat.

  “No I haven’t.” I didn’t meet his eyes as I lied. “I’ve just been tired. Working in the hot sun all morning pulling potatoes. What they got you guys doing?”

  He looked at his feet, and I studied his face as silent moments passed. Braxton had dark hair and eyes, and if you didn’t know we had the same mamma, you’d never guess we were related.

  Finally he spoke. “Yesterday we went down to the bottom and dug a big pit. A green pickup was there, and we unloaded the back of it. Put a bunch of long, wooden boxes in the hole then covered them up with dirt.”

  My breathing grew shallower with every word, and the space seemed to move outward from me like I might faint.

  “Long boxes? Like coffins?”

  “Maybe.”

  I thought of Cleve being pulled away to load them. I studied his stony face still not acknowledging my presence. “Was it... a mass grave?”

  “Don’t know.” My brother turned away from me.

  Behind us, our fellow prisoners pushed us on. I tried to breathe normally, to ask questions. Cleve’s hazel eyes met mine, but they were hard, like something had changed in him.

  My voice cracked as I spoke to my brother. “Do you think they were casualties?”

  Braxton shrugged. “Could be casualties. If there were any signs of a war going on.”

  “Any signs? What do you call all this? What’s happening to us here?

  “Don’t know. But I haven’t heard a single shot fired or a single bomb exploding.” He looked at me, and his eyes widened. “It’s something else. Something that can’t be explained.”

  My face pinched. “Like what exactly?”

  “How do you think they can hold us without the police or the National Guard coming? They’ve got powers, that’s how.”

  I looked down and saw my fists clenched white against my legs, and for a brief moment, I thought about the cows, thought about Cato greeting her brother. I relaxed my hands and rubbed my palms together slowly.

  “That’s crazy, Brax. Nobody’s got powers. This was planned. A sneak attack. We’re going to get out of here and learn they’ve been working on this for years. Like those terrorists who bombed New York City. When we were unconscious, that’s when it happened, and now they don’t need to blow stuff up because everybody’s been caught off guard.” I had to stop for breath, but it hiccupped in my throat before I could say my last words. “Or killed.”

  My brother shook his head. “It don’t add up. There’s no smoke in the sky. And what about our military? Who could do something like that from so far away?”

  “Lots of countries. This is modern times. Who knows what all drones and missiles they’ve got now. They tried to do it from Cuba a long time ago, remember?”

  “Nope. There’s something more going on. Something unexplained.”

  We took our trays of steak and vegetables and started for the long tables. Cleve was still ahead of my brother, silently walking. “Tell me more about those boxes. What did they look like? What was in them?”

  “Don’t know, but they were heavy. That main one, Ovett, said we’d better take a good look. Said they’d deal with rebels the same way.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He caught my eyes again. “It means you gotta quiet down about trying to escape,” he hissed. “You gotta do whatever they tell you to do.”

  “No.” Determination tightened that fist in my chest as we took our seats. “We’re getting out of here, Brax. I’m finding Jackson and—”

  He gripped my arm so hard I winced in pain. “You listen to me, Prentiss Puckett. It’s all over. This is World War Three and the Apocalypse and alien invasion all rolled in one. You can’t fight it.”

  “Alien invasion?” I jerked my arm back. “You’re as crazy as D’Lo! What did that stupid guard say to you guys?”

  “He said enough. And he did more. I’m not burying my little sister.”

  My throat hurt and tears burned my eyes as I looked at the food in front of me. He was letting me down just like I knew he would. No surprise there.

  Cleve’s eyes were on me, I could feel it as the others took their seats around us. I didn’t eat, and through my peripheral vision, I could see he didn’t either. Everyone wolfed down their steak and vegetables, but all I could think about was pine boxes and rebels.

  “Where did you bury those boxes?” I asked my brother softly.

  “I told you. Down in the bottom a ways from here.”

  I couldn’t say my worst fear, so I went at it sideways. “Would you have known if Daddy was in one of them?”

  He shook his head No as he chewed his steak.

  “Would you have known if... anybody was in them?”

  He shook his head again.

  I nodded and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. Swallowing the hard knot in my throat, I sniffed the pain away. Jackson wasn’t in one. I wouldn’t even think it. He was out there alive and waiting for me.

  “Three bites of everything,” a male voice cut in behind me, making me jump.

  I was just getting ready to make a smart comment back when Cleve reached forward and threw his tray of food against the back wall with a loud SLAM!

  We all jerked to attention as metal crashed into concrete, sending steak and veggies scattering across the floor.

  “You can’t DO THIS TO US!” He shouted as he grabbed a fork and broke his glass of milk.

  White liquid splashed on the table, and I jumped out of my chair away from the spill, pressing my back to the wall. Everybody sat in shock waiting for what would happen next.

  Several of the guards moved forward, and I saw one touch the side of his neck, just below his ear. He seemed to speak as he made his way toward the drifter. Cleve’s shoulders moved up and down with his fast breathing.

  “I’m leaving this place, and YOU CAN’T STOP ME!”

  It was like he’d gone crazy. His voice was ragged, hoarse.

  “I’m a FREE AMERICAN CITIZEN! I’m NOT going in a BOX!”

  Walking backward, he’d almost reached the double doors when they opened on their own. The fair-haired leader Ovett appeared behind him, smiling his sinister grin. I couldn’t breathe as I watched it unfold. I clutched the sides of my head unable to stop it, unable to warn him.

  Cleve tried to run, but four guards surrounded him. Two held his arms as he struggled, thrashing with all his might. He managed to throw one off, into the side chairs, but a shot of light glinted off a shiny object in Ovett’s hand.

  “Rebellion will not be tolerated.” Ovett’s voice rolled out in a low growl.

  At once I reco
gnized what he held. It was a large syringe—the kind Doc Green used to put down horses. His arm flew quickly into the air then he jammed it down into the base of Cleve’s neck, right at the top of his spine. A shout of pain, a whimper of fear, and I watched him drop instantly.

  “NO!” I screamed, sinking to the floor, my entire body shaking violently.

  Ovett stood over Cleve’s lifeless body, the now-empty syringe still clutched in his fist. After several moments, he took a step back and turned to face us all.

  “Rebels will be dealt with swiftly and finally.” His voice was cold with authority, and his white-blue eyes slowly met every horrified gaze that might dare follow in Cleve’s footsteps.

  They landed on mine, and the fire of death sparked in them. I knew he was daring me to make a move. I couldn’t get up if I tried.

  Ovett’s last words slammed against my ears. “Take the body to the storage unit.”

  * * *

  “Learning to Spy”

  Volume 2

  Chapter 6

  Star McLain shouted like a drill sergeant. “Stop draggin’ ass, Flora!”

  She stalked back and forth in front of our line straightening shoulders and lifting chins. “Get those kicks up! Homecoming has the most fans, and our job is to get them on their feet!”

  She went back to her place in the center of the line. “Now from the top. GET! FIRED! UP!” She shouted, signaling the start of our performance.

  We went through the motions and ended with me standing on top of a pyramid made entirely of girls with my arms stretched overhead. My dismount was supposed to be a front flip, but I’d never been much of a gymnast. Instead, I used the height to pull my legs into the toe touch I’d finally mastered.

  “Better, Prentiss,” Star said. “I’d still like something more... razzle-dazzle. Sure you can’t do a somersault or something?”

  I looked up at her wondering if she hoped I’d break my neck. “I never took gymnastics or nothing.”

  “You learned a toe touch quick enough.”

  “Jackson taught me that.” I hoped my answer would shut her mouth. Instead admiration filled her eyes.

  “Is he good at everything?”

  I didn’t like her implication. “He likes to read about stuff. And he figures out most things.”

  “I can believe it.” A dirty flicker hit her eye, and she sighed, twirling back to where Flora was sitting on the grass. “Is it quitting time for you, Magee? Get up and show me your hurkey!”

  Flora wore a pained expression, and I swallowed my anger and called her back. “Hey, Star, I need some help with my hurkey. See if this looks right.”

  I did the jump, and she slowly walked back to where I stood.

  “Back heel’s good. Try and get that front leg higher. You know, as little as you are, I’d think these jumps would come easier.”

  I decided against kicking her in the tush and remembered I was doing this for my friend. “Right. I probably need more practice. You know. Just getting started and all.”

  “Yeah. If it weren’t for Jackson...” her voice trailed off, but I knew the rest.

  If it weren’t for Jackson being such a natural on the field and his sweet-talking the cheer coach into making an exception for me, my butt would be on those silver bleachers watching. I’d never have been let on the cheer squad.

  “Being small does help me climb, though,” I said, hoping to hold our slave-driving captain’s attention. Practice would be over in less than five minutes, and I was worried about Flora.

  “Let’s call it a day,” Star said, tossing her thick black ponytail. “Remember, mandatory uniforms tomorrow. Pep rally starts at two-thirty sharp.”

  I walked over to Flora, who was taking a long drink of something pink. She was so pale I could see her brown freckles like beacons from across the field.

  “You feeling okay?” I asked as I helped her up. I gave her a little squeeze, and she melted into my side.

  “I’ve been better.” Her voice was weak. “You’re doing great, Pren. I’d never know it was only your first semester cheering.”

  I shrugged. “Except for the jumps, it’s not that hard to Get. Fired. UP!”

  She grinned and even laughed a little. “Everybody’s so taken with Jackson, but I think you hold up against him pretty good.”

  I glanced at Flora. She did look faint, and I figured she’d just gotten too much sun.

  “I’m no Jackson,” I muttered as we walked back toward the stands.

  * * *

  For several long moments, I couldn’t stop shaking as I sat with my back against the wall in the dining hall. Two guards dragged Cleve’s lifeless body out, and nobody said a word or even moved. It seemed the guards weren’t sure what should happen next either.

  Ovett broke the silence with one word. “Hydration.”

  He nodded at the remaining guards, who split into two lines. Half went to the tables where we all sat silently freaking out, the other half went to the front counter where the female workers arranged little paper cups onto trays in rapid succession.

  Just as fast, the guards moved among us, placing dentist-office Dixie cups of what looked like water in front of everyone. A separate guard came to where I sat on the floor, clutching my knees. She lightly took my arm.

  “Please return to the table.” Her voice was smooth. “You’ve had a shock. Have some water.”

  I wasn’t about to drink anything they gave us. It was Day One all over again, only this time, it was Guyana. We were all being served the Kool-Aid. Next stop, mass graves.

  Stupidly, my friends and fellow prisoners had no such qualms. Didn’t anybody watch the History channel? I stared as they all took shaky sips without hesitation.

  “Just take a small sip.” The female guard was still with me. “It’ll calm you.”

  My throat constricted. My whole body was on revolt. Shaking my head, I didn’t meet her eyes. I only stared at the white cup of water. Braxton was at my side, and he drained his. What the hell made him do that? Did he want to die?

  Seconds ticked past and nothing happened. Nobody passed out. Nobody did anything strange—except forget what we’d just witnessed here. Braxton picked up his fork to finish his lunch. They all did. Like one of us had not just been taken out “swiftly and finally.”

  Only he had, and I was reeling from the shock. I barely knew Cleve, but he represented hope to me. He was my backup, and now I was completely alone.

  I wanted to mourn him, but I knew I had to hide my feelings or risk suffering the same fate. I’d have to figure out my next steps, and I’d have to double up on the secrecy.

  * * *

  A week passed, and they moved us girls from pulling potatoes to gathering ears of corn. The guys were put in the barn, shoveling and cleaning the stalls or digging pits for burying garbage and waste. No more boxes were buried from what I’d heard, but I was tense, on edge after the showdown in the dining hall.

  Braxton was changing, I could tell it. He didn’t pray so much anymore, and he’d stopped talking about the end of the world. He just sat and watched and slowly became more and more withdrawn.

  The sun beat down hot as we walked among the cornfields, and sweat tickled little lines down the back of my neck and between my shoulder blades. As usual, I lowered the top of my coveralls and tied the sleeves around my waist to catch a little breeze as I walked through the rows.

  The familiarity, the knowing what to expect was somehow comforting. I still had to get out, but for a moment, I could be with the earth, the plants that never stopped growing, and catch my breath.

  Jackson’s daddy had taught me how to feel the ends of the ears to see if they were ready for harvest before twisting them down and off the stalk. The other girls would pull back the green husks and poke their fingernails into the kernels to see if the middles ran clear and watery or milky-white—the sign they were ready to be harvested. The only problem with that was the ones that weren’t ready were now exposed to insects and birds and most
likely wouldn’t survive to feed us.

  At lunch, I sat with Yolanda on my left and Flora on my right. After the watcher passed behind us, I slid half of my meat onto Flora’s tray hoping it would be enough to keep her blood healthy. Dr. Green said anemics could die of heart attack, but I’d made up my mind we weren’t losing another person.

  I was calm on the outside, placid, but a knot of anger and defiance ached in my chest. I was getting us out of here, and not another one of us was going in those boxes.

  Flora’s cheeks gained more color and her freckles weren’t as noticeable, but she was more lethargic as the days passed. I decided it was the additional calories combined with her easier work assignment. Or maybe it was because she believed even more she was never getting out of this camp alive.

  I on the other hand, felt my body getting stronger. My brain was clear, and what happened with Cleve forced me to reconsider my plans. Instead of a direct approach to escape, these days I decided to try and learn our captors’ ultimate goal. Maybe if I knew why they were holding us, I could figure out a timeline that included my escape, finding Jackson, and getting back here for the others. I didn’t want to be gone longer than necessary.

  Of course, there was also the problem of the supposed tracking devices. I’d studied my arm in the shower more than once, but other than a little purple spot like a pinprick, I didn’t see any signs of a chip. Either it was incredibly small, or it was the same color as my skin—or it was translucent.

  I thought of the time we’d studied microfibers in science class. They were thin as hair and clear. The memory made me hesitant. Who knew what technology these invaders had in their power?

  Every afternoon I walked the length of the fence, studying it and making mental notes. It was mostly unguarded, and there was a patch below the cabins that was almost completely obscured by shrubs. As luck would have it, when I dropped off my ears of corn that day, I saw the hand trowels stacked in a corner behind the churn.

  Glancing around the barn, none of the female guards watched as we discarded our hats and pulled up our coveralls, sliding the arms in the sleeves and raising our zippers. No one saw my hand slide out and cover one of the trowels. I slipped it back up into my sleeve and left the building.