Astray (Gated Sequel)

by Amy Christine Parker

  All of the others are sketches that I did of the land in and around Mandrodage Meadows. There are ones of the clubhouse, the apple orchard where the Silo’s entrance was, the cornfield just before harvest when the stalks were heavy with corn. But there aren’t any of Marie or my horse Indy, even though I drew plenty of both of them.

  I walk over to the small desk, the only other piece of furniture inside the room. Above it are dozens of white paper circles polka-dotting the wall like an onslaught of snowballs. There’s writing on each of them. I recognize the scrawl on one of them as Will’s. I lean closer. He’s written You still have my heart on it. I look at another one. It’s not in Will’s handwriting, in fact none of the rest of them are. Each one has a different message written by a different hand.

  You’ll always belong with us.

  We won’t give up on you.

  You are Chosen. That doesn’t change.

  I stop in front of one in particular. It’s written in precise block lettering. It’s Pioneer’s.

  You can’t leave unless I let you go. And that will never happen, Little Owl. You belong to me, and I will find a way to bring you home.

  My heart stutters in my chest. It’s like he’s found a way to transport himself into the room.

  “Aren’t they something?” Mom says brightly. “The whole Community misses you, Lyla. They wanted to let you know how much you still mean to them. They don’t blame you for the raid, honey. None of us do. We understand now why things had to happen the way that they did. Someone had to kick off the end events. It was your destiny—an honor, really. We just want you to know that you don’t have to feel like you’re alone anymore. We forgive you and we’re ready for you to come home.” Her face is almost sweet and girlish-looking in the weak glow coming from the overhead light.

  I don’t know what to say. All I know is that nothing about these circles makes me feel better.

  “But what if I don’t want to come back?” I say without looking at either of them. “At least not to Pioneer and to the Brethren?”

  “You don’t mean that,” my mom says, and the brightness in her voice turns sharp. “You’re confused right now. Understandable since you’ve got so many Outsiders whispering in your ears, twisting the truth. But in your heart you know what’s right. That’s why you showed up to watch Pioneer leave the hospital and why you couldn’t bring yourself to face us or him without a disguise on. You’re ashamed of what you’re doing. Even if you can’t see the truth right now, I do. I’m your mom. It’s my job to know you better than you know yourself. Pioneer’s prophecies scare you. I get it. Any impending change that big and ultimately that wonderful can seem scary.…” She’s talking so quickly that it takes my brain a moment to process what she’s saying. I knew that they’d decided to believe Pioneer’s story that Marie killed herself and that I blamed it on him and ended up shooting him in the stable because I had a concussion or was confused or under the sheriff and Cody’s control or traumatized or something and couldn’t cope, but hearing her basically admit it to my face makes it so much more real. I think up until now I’d hoped that they’d choose to believe me eventually—once Pioneer was locked up and far away. I thought Mrs. Rosen would help them see everything differently, but now I can see that that is never going to happen.

  My dad moves a little closer and I take a step back. I don’t want him to touch me. For a while I thought that he believed my side of things, but obviously I was wrong. I walk over to the bed again and perch on the edge. Beside the bed is a nightstand. On top of it is a photo album. I flip it open just so I don’t have to look at my parents, expecting to see more pictures from Mandrodage Meadows meant to remind me of what I’ve lost … but instead I see picture after picture of me—raking leaves with Cody’s family in their backyard, standing in the window of Taylor’s bedroom, watching TV with Cody in their family room. They’ve been watching me from just outside of Cody’s house. A cold chill slides down my spine and I drop the photo album.

  “Who took those?” I shout. I stare down at the photo album like it might come to life and attack me.

  “It doesn’t matter who took them, honey. What matters is that we haven’t let you out of our sight. If you won’t come home, we have no choice but to watch over you. It’s not safe out there,” my mom says softly.

  I can’t stay in the room with her for one more second. I knew that they wanted me back, but this … it’s too much.

  I push past them and hurry out into the hallway, needing to get out of here as quickly as possible. But when I get to the living room area, there’s a knock on the door. Mrs. Rosen has finally arrived.

  Dad steps out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him. He moves to the front door in a flash, opening it before I have a chance to think about how I can get away. Mrs. Rosen smiles at him.

  “Good evening, how are you, Mr. Hamilton?” She gives the place a once-over while she waits for him to answer. “Looks as if you’re settling in okay.”

  “Well, we didn’t have much to unpack,” Dad says with a pleasant chuckle, his voice brighter than normal. He looks over at me and gives me a “behave yourself” look. He wants me to pretend that I’m fine, that I didn’t just see all those weird little circles of paper or that awful photo album in my room. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.

  “You should see the other rooms, Mrs. Rosen. In fact, we should start with mine,” I say. I steer her down the hall, fully expecting my dad to stop us, but he doesn’t.

  My mom hurries out of my room just as we pass the bathroom, practically running right into us. She looks nervous, her eyes darting from Mrs. Rosen to me and back again. “Oh, hello!” she says, in the same tone of voice that my dad just used.

  “This is my room,” I say before my mom can try to move us back toward the living room. I practically push Mrs. Rosen in. “There’s something I want to show you.” I point to the wall where all of the circles are … but it’s empty and the photo album isn’t on the nightstand anymore. It’s all gone. My mom must have hidden it all as soon as she heard Mrs. Rosen come in. I should have known that they wouldn’t let her see them.

  “Show me what, dear?” Mrs. Rosen smiles at me before she notices my drawings hanging on the opposite wall. “Oh, these are beautiful. You have quite a talent. Do they have you signed up for art classes at the high school?”

  I want to tell her about the notes and the album, about the transfer and how committed my parents still are to Pioneer, but without any real evidence, I feel like I’m not sure if she’ll believe me. Would she actually search my parents’ house if I asked her to?

  “Lyla?” Mrs. Rosen prompts.

  “What? Oh … I don’t have my schedule yet.”

  “How was school today, by the way?” Dad asks from the doorway. He doesn’t look directly at me, but merely in my direction. He knows what Mom just did, but he’s not going to acknowledge it.

  There’s no way that I can sit here and watch this little show my parents are putting on for Mrs. Rosen, but I’m not sure how to expose them either. It’s frustrating and scary and makes me feel completely out of control. The only thing that feels in my control is my ability to leave. Without another word I rush past everyone, practically knocking my mom into the wall on my way. When I get to the living area, I notice that the picture of Pioneer that was just hanging above the little kitchen table is missing. She somehow managed to take that down too.

  “Lyla? Your father just asked you a question,” Mom says from behind me.

  I turn to look at her. Mrs. Rosen, my mom, and my dad are standing there staring at me. Waiting.

  Before they can stop me, I hurriedly scoop my bag and coat up off the floor and throw open the door. I take the steps two at a time and take off down the path between the trailers before cutting off to one side and into the woods. I run several yards before I stop to lean against the closest tree and try to catch my breath. I don’t know where to go now. Town is miles away and Cody won’t be back for at least another forty
minutes or more. I look back the way I came to see if anyone followed me, but all I can see are the trailers, and beyond them, the hulking silhouette of the barn. I’m alone, but it feels like I’m being watched. Right now one of them could be out here with me, lurking in the shadows, taking more pictures. Every snapping twig or rush of wind makes me more and more certain of it.

  We have no life here on this earth. No future. So why should we care about it then?

  —Brian Wallace, member of the Community

  NINE

  “Lyla!” My dad’s voice echoes across the open area between the trailers. They’re looking for me.

  Other than underneath the trailers and the woods, there are very few places to hide out here. There’s only this stand of trees and one other one beyond the barn. It won’t be long until they figure out where I’ve gone. I pull my coat on and slip my book bag over my shoulder. I’m close to the barn here. I watch as the light from inside it throws shadows across the ground. It’s darkest at the back end, where the light isn’t bleeding through the cracks in the wood siding.

  I look back to see my parents’ shadows advancing between two of the trailers nearest the trees. I lunge toward the back of the barn. There’s a rickety ladder attached to the wall—leading up to a hayloft maybe? It’s dark and high enough from the ground that no one would see me. I veer left, grab the ladder before I can rethink it, and start climbing as fast as I can. Every few seconds I look down, expecting to see Mrs. Rosen and my parents come around the corner of the barn and spot me, but I make it to the top and into the loft without any trouble.

  The light I saw from outside the barn is coming from the main space below me. I stay on my hands and knees. There isn’t any chanting or singing going on now, but I do hear Mr. Brown’s voice. I slide my feet forward slowly, pushing old hay out of the way as I go. It smells awful—like the hay’s gotten wet and moldy a bunch of times and never dried out. I put a hand over my nose and mouth. The far end of the hayloft opens to the downstairs space. I don’t want anyone below to know that I’m here. It was enough having to deal with my parents, and besides, the notes and photo album have me spooked. What will they do if they find out that I’m up here watching them? I crouch down in the hay, and try not to cringe when my hand lands in one of the damper clumps. The boards that make up the floor of the loft are spaced unevenly, and there are sizable gaps between some. I lean down and peer through one. I can see Mr. Brown. He’s standing next to a television set on top of a black cart. I can see Brian, Will, Heather, Julie, and their parents too. Everyone has spread blankets across the barn floor. They’re sitting cross-legged in their coats. There isn’t any heat in here. I can see dozens of candles lit around the edges of the barn, sitting on top of old barrels and crates. Several camping lanterns hang from nails on some of the barn’s support beams. Their flames cast dancing shadows along the walls, silhouettes of the people below.

  I move onto my belly and crawl closer to the front end of the loft. I have to breathe through my mouth. Something smells rotted—gamey. Maybe an animal’s died in the hay. I shake my head. I can’t think about that. If I do, I’ll start gagging.

  It’s gone quiet. I freeze. Suddenly I’m sure that something creaked behind me, but when I finally get the nerve to look, there’s no one there.

  “Until the Brethren return for us …,” Mr. Brown’s voice suddenly rings out, and I jump, scattering hay across the loft. I watch as some displaced dust and hay goes over the edge and spirals down onto the crowd below.

  “We have to stay the course. We have to stay together. And we will not, under any circumstances, forget who we are,” Mr. Brown says.

  Everyone answers him in unison, the way that they used to answer Pioneer. “We are Chosen.”

  “Great trials are in our future. Pioneer says that the Brethren are testing us to see if we are worthy of their favor. We must not fail. Our convictions cannot be shaken! Our path must stay true.”

  “Tell it to us straight, brother!” These words erupt out of someone’s mouth; I can’t see who’s speaking, but it feels like their words carry everyone’s agreement.

  “I plan to, brother.” Mr. Brown looks out at the crowd, to whoever spoke. “Because I’m worried. And so is Pioneer. He told me as much today during our visit. He wants to know how we can be sure that we will not fall. After all, one of us already has. Lyla fell under the sway of the Outsiders, didn’t she?”

  At the sound of my name, I accidentally suck in bits of hay and dust. A piece plasters itself to the back of my throat, making my eyes tear up and my lungs seize. I stuff my coat sleeve in my mouth to muffle the violent coughing fit that follows. There’s silence below. I’m not sure if it’s because of me or Mr. Brown’s questions.

  Brian stands up. “She faltered because she’s weak, always has been. She doesn’t belong with us. We can stand up against whatever we need to now without her trying to steer us toward the Outsiders and their lies.”

  Mr. Brown shakes his head. “No. She does belong with us. She’s been misled, sure, but Pioneer has seen in his visions that she can be saved. You know this. But maybe you need a reminder.” His voice goes sharp and even without him saying it out loud, I know he’s warning Brian not to argue. “Pioneer’s message for us tonight will set you straight. And if you have any questions remaining, you and I will set aside some time to talk.”

  Brian’s anger falters a little and he blows out a breath. Mr. Brown stares him down. “Sit down, son.”

  Someone sitting on the blanket behind Brian tugs on his hand, pulls him down to a sitting position. It’s the short-haired guy—the one with the military-type clothes who was driving the van. An Outsider at a Community meeting? Strange. I scan the crowd for more of the Freedom Rangers, but he seems to be the only one. Mr. Brown moves closer to Brian’s blanket. He’s standing right in front of the Ranger guy. “Chances are always given to those with enough of a conviction to change. Look at our new brother, Jonathan. A month ago he was just like any other Outsider. Now Pioneer and the Brethren have decided that he is worthy of redemption. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to be worthy. You don’t think it’s possible that Lyla will realize the mistake she’s made and repent too? The Brethren don’t want people to perish. Those who commit to repentance are always welcome.”

  I stare at Jonathan. He’s part of the Community? How can that even be possible? Pioneer said it was only us, it was always just our families. It doesn’t make sense. Why doesn’t anybody else see it?

  Jonathan smiles up at Mr. Brown. His face is all angles and hard lines, so that the smile seems out of place. Mr. Brown pats his shoulder, then heads for the TV and turns it on. The screen is static and a sudden burst of white noise blasts through the air, startling everyone. A smattering of laughter follows. Mr. Brown smiles at the crowd and fiddles with the volume.

  “Brian isn’t the only one who has questions about our Lyla. I know there are more of you who wonder why we should take her back. Pioneer knew that you would—even before we left the Silo—and so he recorded this message to you on our last day there.”

  I hold my breath and move as close as I can to the edge. Pioneer left them a message about me? On our last day at Mandrodage Meadows? But I was locked up in the Silo’s cell then and the shelter’s doors were shut tight. How could he have guessed that I would get out? Did the Brethren give him a vision about it? I look back, out at the sky and the stars. Are the Brethren really there after all?

  The TV screen goes blue and then Pioneer appears. He’s in the clothes I saw him in last—his white shirt and jeans—and he’s sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs in the Silo’s gathering room. There’s an obvious sheen of sweat on his face and his hair is wild, like he just rolled out of bed. But his expression is pure calm.

  “My family. If you are watching this video, it is because the Outsiders have taken control of our shelter just like the Brethren have told me that they would. I know that I did not share this knowledge with you and I know that you
may be confused. I’m sorry for that. But there was no other way for you to prove your devotion to me and to the Brethren. They wanted you to have to act on faith, their test to see if you could believe in the face of fear and doubt.” His smile goes wide and warm, and even though the others know he can’t see them, they smile too.

  “The fact that you are gathered watching me now proves just how strong your faith has remained. Know that I never doubted your resolve, not once, and neither did the Brethren. The test of faith that you’re enduring is meant to make you strong enough to endure the hardships that the real end will bring. What I couldn’t tell you before is that the day I predicted as the end was just the kickoff event to the apocalypse. The world’s final death throes won’t come until the Outsiders have been given one last chance to turn from their wicked ways. Above all, the Brethren are merciful. They want to give those who truly seek it a chance to turn from their wickedness and join us before they are destroyed. There will be signs and wonders in these last days that the Outsiders won’t be able to dismiss. The first of these will happen very soon.”