Astray (Gated Sequel)

by Amy Christine Parker

  After the fifth bucket of water, I not only think that I’m going to die, I’m starting to hope for it.

  Mr. Brown sits down on the floor beside me, pulls out a cell phone, and puts it to my ear.

  “Little Owl,” Pioneer says softly.

  I can’t answer. I’m crying too hard.

  “Do you want me to tell them to stop?” he says.

  “Yes.”

  “All you have to do is say the words.”

  I don’t have to ask him what the words are. I know.

  “I’m yours,” I say, and I mean it. I can’t fight him, not like this. It’s too hard. I’m not strong enough—maybe I never was.

  “Yes, you are. Don’t ever forget it again.”

  Mr. Brown moves the phone from my ear. I close my eyes. Relief washes over me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I say over and over again. I can’t make myself stop. I’m practically babbling, I’m so wrung out and exhausted.

  “Welcome back, sister,” Mr. Brown says. He scoops me up into his arms and carries me into the other room. The heater is still on high, but it feels good now that I’m wet and shivering. Clean clothes are sitting neatly folded on the metal chair, and Mrs. Brown is waiting beside it. She helps me into the chair and gives me a mug of hot tea to sip on while she towels off my face and arms. She kisses my forehead and smooths wet strands of hair away from my face. She helps me with the clothes because I’m too weak to dress myself, and then together we walk into the main part of the barn, where for the second time since I showed up, everyone in the Community is gathered. They clap and cheer when they see me. I don’t know how to feel about this. I look at Mr. Brown for some clue because I want him to tell me how to feel. I don’t want to be wrong and end up back in that room with him and Jonathan. He smiles and so I smile too. My parents rush forward first, gathering me to them and practically carrying me the rest of the way into the room. I’m still crying. You would think I wouldn’t have any tears left, but they keep coursing down my cheeks. The folding chair from the back is brought out and placed in front of the group. My parents guide me to it. Will, Heather, and Julie surround it. They smile as I sink into the seat. My stomach flutters a little. What’s going on now? My head sags against my chest. No more. I can’t take any more.

  Mr. Brown comes to stand beside me. In one hand he’s carrying the rusty shears from the other room.

  “You have to do it,” Will whispers into my ear. He moves so I can see his face, touches the end of my chin with his hand.

  “I don’t understand,” I say, but then Mr. Brown hands me the shears and all at once I do.

  They want me to cut my hair. One last test and they’ll leave me alone. I don’t want to, but more than that I want to get out of the barn, away from Mr. Brown and the back rooms. It’s hard to remember why fighting them is so important anyway. I curl my fingers around the shears.

  Will pulls my braid behind my head and holds it taut. He guides my hand and the shears to it. I cut the braid. There’s a sudden horrible lightness as it falls away and what’s left of my hair swings forward, no longer than my chin. I drop the shears, bring my hand up to my head. I finger the uneven fringe. There’s a buzzing sound then and soon Mr. Brown is shaving off the rest of my hair, mowing it off my head in rows with an electric razor. I close my eyes. It doesn’t hurt. It almost feels good. My head feels so light it’s almost balloon-like, empty and not mine at all anymore.

  “Our Little Owl is with us again,” Mr. Brown says loudly, and the room erupts into cheers.

  My hair is gone, but I don’t feel like crying. I don’t feel anything. I’m numb and that’s good. I don’t want to feel. What I want to do is sleep. Maybe forever.

  Everyone else is treating this moment as a celebration. Their hands keep touching me, patting my shoulders, skimming across the now smooth skin of my head. I watch as Will’s parents pull mine into excited hugs. My mom looks happier than I’ve seen her since the night Will was picked as my Intended all those years ago.

  My hair is gone. I try to concentrate on this thought, but I can’t. I can’t seem to do anything but stare.

  “You get used to it,” Heather says. She and Julie crouch down to hug me. I lean my head on Julie’s shoulder. I can’t seem to hold it up.

  “I cried. A lot at first,” Julie says softly as she lets me go and sits on the floor. Her fingers pick halfheartedly at the straw by her foot. “But then I thought about Pioneer and how proud he would be of me and I just knew it was something that I had to do. I’m glad I did it. I feel closer to Pioneer now even though he can’t be with us. It’s strange, I guess, but I feel like he knew right when I cut it. Like he was smiling.”

  “I feel exactly the same,” Heather says.

  “You must be tired, huh?” Will puts his hand on my back.

  I blink, but I can’t make myself answer.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you home. Tomorrow none of this will feel so overwhelming, I promise.” Will takes my arm and I let him lead me to the door.

  “Mr. Hamilton, I thought maybe I’d walk Lyla back. She’s pretty tired from the recentering. If that would be all right with you, sir?” He’s corralled me over to my dad.

  “That’ll be just fine, son.” Dad nods at him and then, almost as an afterthought, leans down and kisses me, right on the top of my bald head. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie.”

  I make myself nod. It feels like the right thing to do. I’m not sure, though. I don’t feel right. I need someone to tell me what to do. I look around for Mr. Brown, but then I seem to lose time, and suddenly Will and I are outside, the cold air slapping the top of my head and making my teeth chatter.

  We head back toward the trailers. I can hear a train whistle somewhere out in the darkness. It’s a long, sad sound. It makes the trailer park feel far away from the rest of town, isolated.

  “I hate that you had to go through that,” Will says once we’re outside. I trip over something. I’m not watching where I’m going. I almost fall, but then Will catches me and puts an arm around my waist so he can help me walk. He makes a funny sound in his throat, and when I look up at him, his eyes are full of tears. “You’ll be okay now. I’ll take care of you,” he says.

  I’m not sure what happens next. One minute we’re walking toward the trailers and the next I’m on my bed and Will’s tucking me in. He turns the light out and I close my eyes and try not to listen when he starts to cry.

  They think when they come to us threatening to take our children we will be frightened and cower. They couldn’t be more wrong.

  —Mr. Brown

  TWENTY-FOUR

  When I wake up, Will is gone. It unnerves me. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, how I’m supposed to feel. I don’t get up right away, because moving isn’t easy. I’m sore and weak and spent. I stare at the ceiling, watch shadows travel across it. What’s happening to me?

  I remember the recentering, but only in bits and pieces. Pioneer’s voice is like a thread sewn through every flash of memory, connecting all the chanting and the water and … the gun. I can’t get him out of my head. My mind keeps going back to his words—replaying them over and over. I hold on to them, repeat them to myself. Fear sits in my stomach, rock hard and cold. I can’t forget. If I forget, I’ll end up back in the barn.

  “Lyla?” My dad’s standing in the doorway staring at me. He’s got a bowl in his hand. “Feel like eating?”

  Food? My stomach growls at the thought, but the fear rises up inside me until it’s stronger than my hunger. Pioneer said we can’t eat. Is this a test to see if the recentering took? I don’t know and I’m scared that I’m not strong enough to pass it. My mind feels like it’s split in two. Part of me wants nothing more than to flip the tray and run out the door, down the road and straight to town. But it’s a small, weak part of me, nearly washed away by all that water, obliterated by every click of the gun. No. Pioneer. I need to do what he wants. I’m his, I’m his, I’m his, screams the oth
er part of my brain, so loud that it blocks everything else out. I won’t eat; I can’t fail and be put back in that room with Mr. Brown. I pull the covers up closer to my chin.

  “No! No food. Not until Pioneer says,” I say without looking at him. I want that bowl gone so I can’t see it.

  “It’s just broth, honey,” Dad says, his voice soft, coaxing.

  I shake my head. I can’t fail. They need to see that I’ll listen now. I can feel panic building inside me, rising up like a wave. I’m drowning in it.

  Dad strokes the top of my head. The skin is sensitive without my hair there to protect it. I don’t like the way it feels, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except staying out of the barn.

  I let my dad help me out of bed and lead me to the sofa in the next room. He wraps a quilt around my shoulders and hands me a cup of hot water. I sip at it, my eyes traveling to Pioneer’s picture on the wall as I do. I’m allowed the water—I understand this, but I feel the need to double-check with him to make positively sure. Unfortunately, the picture can’t tell me what to do. I only manage to get half the water down. I put the cup on the table in front of me.

  When the trailer’s front door slams open, I almost fall to my knees and start screaming, I’m so sure it’s Mr. Brown coming to get me for another session. But it isn’t him, it’s Will and his mom.

  “Outsiders! They’re coming. Four squad cars,” Will’s mom says. She’s breathless from running. I watch as she brings her hand up. She has a gun. I shrink into the sofa. My temple starts to burn. I don’t want her anywhere near me with that thing. She tucks the gun into her jeans and pulls her shirt over it to hide it from view.

  “Stay calm,” my dad barks, and at first I’m not sure if he means her or me. “We knew that they would. You’ll make things worse by panicking.”

  Will’s mom nods. She waits while Dad hurries to the back of the trailer.

  “How are you this morning?” Will asks me. His voice is stiff, strange. He doesn’t sound like himself.

  “I don’t know,” I say, and this is true. I don’t.

  “I didn’t know how bad it was going to be, Lyla, I swear. I never wanted you to come back that way—”

  He stops talking when my dad comes back into the room with my mom. Both of my parents have guns of their own. They’re everywhere. I hold my hands to my head. It’s like the day of the raid all over again. I start to wail.

  “Lyla, pull it together!” Mr. Brown is standing in our doorway. I stiffen and shut my mouth.

  “We need you now. You have to make them leave. Show us that you’re back all the way.” He looks into my eyes and there’s an unspoken threat in his expression. I look down at his hand. He has a gun too, it’s resting on his knee and the barrel’s pointed at me. I look up at my parents, but they’re already moving outside with Will’s mom. Will lingers by the door, watches us.

  Mr. Brown looks into my eyes. “Are you back, Lyla? Or did we stop our session too early?”

  My throat squeezes shut. I look down at the gun and then back up at him.

  He inches closer, puts his face right up to mine until our foreheads are almost touching. “They can’t take you away from us. This time we won’t let them.” He lets his fingers drift across the trigger. “I have people stationed all over this place, hiding, watching. If they make you go with them, they’ll be dead before they can get to the main road. But that’s not the Brethren’s will—at least not yet. You have to make them go away, Lyla, without you, or I will send Jonathan into town and he will pay another visit to the Crowleys’ house, and this time it won’t be to kill an owl.”

  I look down at the gun again. He’s had people watching me for weeks. I know that what he’s saying is the truth. He will shoot the deputies and the Brethren will be angry with me for failing. They might decide I need more time in the barn and Jonathan will go to Cody’s house and hurt Taylor or her mom. I nod. “Okay, I will. Please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Will shakes his head, his hand coming up to the doorframe like he needs to steady himself. He takes a deep breath and walks outside.

  “Good.” Mr. Brown stands up, stashes his gun in the front pocket of his coat, and then hands me my coat. Together we walk out of the trailer.

  The Community has gathered along the road and so have the Rangers. They’re all twitchy, standing much too close to one another. Up ahead of them the deputies are standing by their cars. They seem a little twitchy too. I look for the sheriff. He’s not here. But I don’t need to worry about him anymore. He’s an Outsider. Outsiders are evil and not to be trusted. Pioneer’s voice overrides my own in my head. I can’t hear myself anymore. I have to concentrate on what Mr. Brown says. I have a flash of Cody’s face and I almost stop walking. My head still isn’t right. My thoughts are so jumbled. But no, I can’t think about him. I don’t belong with him. I belong here. This is my home. This is my home. This is my home. My brain keeps getting stuck on the phrase. I think because they made me say it in the barn. Every time it repeats, I feel more and more certain that it’s true.

  “Good morning,” one deputy says loudly. I remember him from the hospital. It’s the guy who likes candy bars … Steve. Seeing him is like a punch to the gut. That small part of me that wasn’t washed away last night is telling me to run to him, to beg him to take me out of here, but Mr. Brown is pressed to my side and his hand is in his pocket, the one with the gun, and that voice is no match for the fear that spikes inside me, intense and overpowering. I’m relieved when the voice goes quiet.

  “We’re here to speak with Lyla Hamilton.” Steve eyes the crowd. His gaze passes right over me—probably because he still expects me to have hair.

  Will’s dad steps forward. “Can I ask why you need to talk to her?”

  “It’ll only take a few minutes, if you can just get her,” the deputy says, not answering the question at all.

  There’s a moment where no one moves and Will’s dad and the deputies just stare at each other. I’m not sure what’ll happen now, but I can’t stand the tension in the air, the feeling that at any moment the men will start fighting. I see Will’s dad and a few others casually put their hands inside their coat pockets. There are only a handful of deputies against more than thirty armed men, if you count the Rangers. I’m not supposed to let the deputies get hurt. I’m supposed to make them leave.

  “I’m here,” I say. I come forward enough for them to see me. Mr. Brown shadows me. If Steve and the others are surprised that I’m now as bald as everyone else, they don’t show it. I make my way toward them, being careful not to walk too fast. If I seem eager, it’ll only make Mr. Brown nervous, and I want to be obedient. I want to do exactly what he says. My heart beats hard inside my chest. I can’t fail.

  Steve steps in between me and Mr. Brown when we get close enough. “I’d like to speak with just her.”

  I look back at Mr. Brown. He’s grinning like this request doesn’t bother him at all, when I know that it does. He doesn’t want me where he can’t hear what I’m going to say. I’m worried too. I don’t trust myself.

  The deputy leads me over to their cars—lined up one after another like dominoes—and situates himself so that my back is to the group and he can keep an eye on everyone else. “What’s going on, Lyla? What’d they do to your hair?” he asks so quietly that even I have a hard time hearing him.

  “I wanted to come home and everyone else’s hair is gone. I thought I should cut mine too,” I say, and I’m not sure, but I think maybe it’s the truth. “How’s Cody?” The words come out of nowhere before I can stop them. I cringe. I’m failing. There’ll be punishment if I don’t try harder.

  “He was pretty sick. He and his dad both, but they’re being discharged from the hospital today.”

  I fidget, balance on one foot and then the other. My whole body is tense. I can’t relax it. Does he see? Does Mr. Brown? I can’t fail.

  “Look, Lyla, an anonymous letter showed up at the Culver Creek Tribune this morning. Whoe
ver wrote it claimed responsibility for the food poisoning. I can’t go into detail about it with you, but it warned that there would be another attack soon. And the obvious first suspects for who wrote it are these people.” He shoots a look over my shoulder. “This is not where you want to be right now. So get your things and I’ll take you back to the sheriff’s house, okay? The Crowleys want you to come back. They’re worried about you.”

  Now I know he is lying. One thing I do remember from last night—or was it the night before?—is being chased out of the hospital by Outsiders, and Cody’s mom and Taylor letting them.

  “I’m staying here,” I say. “This is where I belong.”

  “You’re wrong. Listen, I don’t think you get what I’m saying. It’s not safe here anymore. So go on now and go get your things.”

  “I’m not leaving,” I say louder. “This is my family. I belong with them. Now leave me alone, Outsider!” I yell this last bit as loud as I can so that the others will hear. I shrink away from him and go stand by Mr. Brown. I look up at him, anxious to make sure that I did it right, that he’s happy with me.

  Steve studies me. “You don’t really believe that.” But he looks nervous now, like he’s not sure.

  “You have a warrant, Officer?” a voice yells from somewhere to our left. We look up. Standing between the trailers now are all of the Rangers. They glare at the deputies. Jonathan’s right up front, leading the pack along with Brian.

  Steve looks like he’d like to strangle them. “Well now, why would I need one of those? You have something to hide here?”

  The Rangers bristle in unison. If they were a pack of dogs, their hair would all be standing on end.

  “No, but we know our rights and theirs. Unless you’ve got a warrant, we’re going to have to ask you to get off this property. Now,” Jonathan says. He squares his shoulders and folds his arms across his chest.

  “Come on, Lyla,” Steve says quietly. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to spark a confrontation that ends badly like the raid, but he seems unwilling to move because of me. It makes me want to shake him. I can’t fail and he’s making it almost impossible for me.