Astray (Gated Sequel)

by Amy Christine Parker

  “Why would I leave with you? I’m home. Can you please just go away and leave us alone?” I say this as calmly and serenely as I can. Inside I am screaming—every part of me, even the small part that wants to go with him no matter what. I’m not sure how much more I can take. My head hurts so bad. I need quiet inside my head, I’m desperate for it.

  “No, I can’t,” Steve says. He looks worried. I shake my head and try to look disgusted, then open my mouth and say something I know will make him mad enough to leave.

  “Go back to your candy bars and leave me alone! I can’t bear to be around any of you for one more minute. You’re just dead men walking. I was such a fool to think any different, I know that now.” I drop to my hands and knees, move my arms so that my palms are open to the sky, and begin to chant.

  The Brethren will save us.

  Pioneer guides and protects us.

  We will look to them alone

  In all that we do

  In all that we say

  In all that we believe.

  It takes only seconds from when I start for the others to drop down beside me and start chanting too.

  The Rangers move closer. They have their phones out and are holding them up to us and the deputies. They’re filming us.

  “You heard the girl. She asked you to go. You have no warrant, and without her, no reason to stay. Do these people have rights here or not, Officer?” one of the Rangers says, his phone trained on Steve.

  Steve’s face goes red. He opens the car door just behind him and takes out a canvas bag. “I brought you your clothes just in case you decided to stay.” He drops it in front of me.

  I ignore it. Steve stands still for one second more, and then he gets into his car. The other deputies follow. I keep chanting as I watch them drive away. With the others behind me doing the same, my head feels clearer. I sigh with relief and close my eyes. It takes me by surprise when tears slide down my cheeks.

  We go inside a few minutes later and Mr. Brown begins to empty the contents of my bag. He piles the clothing neatly as he goes, but not before checking every pocket he comes across. I want to hug my sneakers when I see them. The only thing Mr. Brown finds that he doesn’t like is the bag full of makeup. His eyebrows knit together as he pokes a finger inside it. “See, even now they’re fighting for your mind by appealing to your vanity.” He holds the small bag out in front of him like even touching it is dangerous as he heads for the door.

  I take my clothes and shoes back to my room and shut the door. I practically rip off the clothes I’m in, the ones that Mrs. Brown helped me into—I’m not even sure whose they are; I just know they aren’t mine—and sigh out loud once I’m back in my own. I sit on the floor to pull on my favorite shoes, but there’s something wrong with the lining along the bottom of the right one. It’s curling up oddly in the toe. I take it off and begin to inspect it. It’s in backward. I take it out and start to put it back in the right way when I notice the neatly folded square of paper taped inside. My heart beats a little faster. I stare at it. This is bad, this is wrong. I need to take the shoe to Mr. Brown, I need to throw it out the window. I scoot away from my shoe like it might grow teeth and bite me. I open my mouth to call to my parents, but then close it again. The pieces of my brain that have been fighting with each other all day are at war again, but this time that tiny voice isn’t so tiny. I don’t like it and yet … I can’t make myself ignore it completely. All at once I lunge for the shoe and peel back the tape and unfold the paper, scared the entire time that my bedroom door will swing open and Mr. Brown will be standing there.

  Lyla,

  What happened at the restaurant wasn’t your fault. I know that Taylor made you feel like it was and you went back to the Community because you thought you had no place to go, but that’s not true. I can be your home if you let me.

  I’m hoping that you’re on your way to the house with Steve now, but if you’re not, I had Steve leave you my phone. It’s hidden beneath the pile of rocks in the clearing just across the road from the trailer park and to the right of the clump of pine trees there. Get it as soon as you can. Then call me, no matter how late it is. We need to talk. Please don’t let this be goodbye.

  Cody

  I feel like I might shatter into a dozen tiny pieces. I can be your home if you let me. These words shoot straight to my heart and stick there.

  I reread his letter again and again, saying the words to myself as I go. Every time I start again, my head feels a little clearer. That little voice I’ve been battling all day gets louder. He isn’t mad at me. He wants me to come back. It shouldn’t matter. Mr. Brown said that they would try to lie to me again. I know I should believe this and make myself throw the note away, but I can’t. After a while I start to realize that when I’m reading the note, I can’t hear Pioneer’s or Mr. Brown’s voices in my head anymore. The only voice I hear is mine. And it’s telling me to go get that phone.

  I have eyes everywhere. You can’t run from me.

  —Pioneer

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The day passes quickly, mostly because Mr. Brown keeps everyone really busy all day. It takes a lot longer to complete each task because everyone’s weak from fasting, and this gives me hope. If they’re slowing down from hunger, there’s a chance that they’ll get so tired that they won’t be able to keep watch tonight. I keep Cody’s note inside my shoe, beneath the lining. I can feel it against my arch and it works like a talisman, warding off the worst of my fear. Getting Cody’s phone will be dangerous and I am terrified of getting caught. I won’t survive another recentering.

  I wait until everyone has gone to bed before I walk over to the window, pull the paper-thin shade away, and press my face to the glass. The light outside is coming from the trailer behind ours, a porch light on the wall by the door.

  I dress quickly in my darkest clothes. Then I put on my dad’s black knit cap, pulling it low over my head until it’s just above my eyebrows. I leave my coat behind because it’s too bulky and the nylon makes swishing noises when I walk. I need to be as quick and quiet as possible. When I’m as layered as I possibly can be and still able to move freely, I tiptoe out into the hallway. Listen. The paper notes on my wall flutter a bit in the breeze. I listen harder. Soon I can hear my dad snoring a little, that familiar rumbling intake of breath and the soft blowing sound that comes after it. One of my parents moves, the bed squeaks, but no one calls out or appears in the doorway. I edge out of my bedroom inch by inch on tiptoe, careful to step only where I think the floor won’t creak. Still, it does some, little sounds that seem much louder, bigger at this hour. I get to the front door and work at the lock, slowly, slowly turning it to the left until it unlocks. The snicking sound it makes as it does makes me jumpy. I wince and open the door just enough to slip through it before carefully closing it again. I almost go back inside because already I feel so exposed, watched.

  The night is full of noises. I can hear a truck somewhere in the distance, rumbling like a growling animal. I can’t tell if it’s on the road out past the trailers or somewhere closer. I inch my way down the stairs and make my way down the side of the trailer. I look around the corner, scan the road and the trailers beyond for any sign of someone else. Everything is so still that I start to panic. It’s so deserted that I’m sure I’m walking into some kind of trap. But if I am, it’s too late to go back inside, they already know I’m out here, disobeying. I take a deep breath and head straight for the copse of trees I hid in the first night I was here, sure that I’ll be tackled by Jonathan or Brian or Mr. Brown before I get halfway there.

  I don’t breathe again until I’m there, plastered against a tree, so close that the bark scrapes my cheek. Just as I’m starting to catch my breath, a hand goes over my mouth.

  “Don’t scream,” Will says in my ear. “It’s me.”

  It takes a second before I stop struggling, before I understand that he’s trying to be stealthy too. I relax and he takes his hand away.

  “You’
re leaving,” he says.

  Since he’s caught me out in the woods in the middle of the night, there’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”

  His face is sad but resolute. “Okay,” he says.

  “Really?”

  He looks back at the trailers. “You were so … broken when you came out of those rooms. I wanted you back, but I never, ever wanted that.”

  One of the trailers’ porch lights goes on and I can hear the creak of a door opening. We crouch down in the brush.

  “Mr. Brown’s got people on guard duty up in the loft, and there’s a few of us in those trees and over by the vans. If you keep to these trees and stay low, you can make it out to the road.” Will hands me something. “Take these with you.”

  I look down at my hand. The shears from the barn are sitting in my palm. Accepting them makes me feel like somehow I’m inviting a confrontation with the others, but I curl my fingers around them anyway. If the Community’s taught me anything, it’s always be prepared for the worst. I slide the shears into the back of my pants so that the handle rests on the waistband, then cover them with my sweatshirt.

  I look up at Will. “Thanks.” And then because suddenly I can’t stand to leave him in this place: “Come with me.”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t. Not yet.”

  I open my mouth to convince him to go, but then one of the porch lights on the trailer closest to ours goes on.

  The trailer’s door opens and a man steps outside. He’s holding a gun. I think it’s Heather’s dad, but I can’t be sure. I watch as he studies the other trailers, the road. He must have heard us somehow.

  Will nudges my side with his elbow and leans in so he can whisper in my ear. “I’ll take care of him, now go.”

  He kisses my forehead and I don’t pull away. I put my hand on his cheek and smile at him instead.

  “Thanks.”

  He stands up, wipes off his jeans, and walks toward the porch without looking back. He doesn’t try to be quiet at all, in fact he makes lots of noise. The man turns his face in our direction. It is Heather’s dad.

  “Hey, you see anything?” Will asks. “I just got relieved from guard duty, but I can help you look if you heard something.”

  Heather’s dad scratches his chin. “I thought I heard voices out here.”

  Will chuckles. “Yeah, that was me. I was talking to Brian. He just headed up to the loft for his shift.”

  Heather’s dad yawns. “You want some coffee? I could put some on to brew. Might warm you up?”

  Will walks up to the trailer. “Thanks, that would hit the spot.” I wait for them to go inside and then I head toward the road, feeling the metal shears poking into my back a little with every step. My breath puffs out ahead of me, then disappears quickly. The wind is picking up and there are clouds above me now, thick ones that hint at more snow. They’re blocking out the moon, making it hard to see where I’m going. I hold on to the trees as I go so I won’t fall. My hands are tingling and half frozen. I forgot to grab gloves. I alternate sticking one hand in my sweatshirt pocket and then the other, but they stay painfully cold. By the time I find the phone and figure out how to call Cody, I probably won’t be able to punch in the numbers.

  The road is a flat black snake weaving its way through the fields ahead. At this hour there aren’t any cars, and Will said that all of the men guarding the Community were farther back, closer to the barn, but still I stay nestled in the trees and watch for any sign that someone else is out here. When I’m sure that it’s just me, I trot across the road. The rocks are right where Cody said they’d be. I crouch beside them and immediately spot the bundle Steve left for me. He’d put Cody’s phone in a ziplock bag and then wrapped it up in a towel to make sure that it wouldn’t get wet. Once I have it out of the bag, I look it over. I’ve seen Cody use it a bunch of times, but I’ve never used it myself.

  There’s a little taped piece of paper on the back that has a long list of directions on it. Time feels like it’s slipping away. I sigh and begin to complete each step. Press the button on the side to light up the phone. Swipe a finger across the front of it to unlock the screen. Find the phone symbol. (Cody drew one on the paper, tiny with a smiley face on one end.) I squint at the paper to follow the rest. Before long the phone is ringing, and almost immediately someone answers it.

  “Lyla?” It’s Cody, his voice thick with sleep. It feels like forever since I heard it last.

  “Are you okay?” I say. I need to see his face, put a hand on his cheek to make sure, but I can’t.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m home. Dad’s home. We’re good. And we don’t blame you, Lyla. Taylor feels awful about what she said, I mean she should, but you know, she only said it ’cause she was scared.”

  I feel like I might burst into tears.

  “It’s you I’m worried about,” he adds. “What were you thinking, going back there?”

  I lean up against the tree nearest me and grip the phone a little harder. “I didn’t know where else to go. I thought maybe if I went back they’d leave you and your family alone.”

  Cody makes a frustrated sound into the phone. “But you have no problem letting them hurt you? I heard about your hair. What else have they done to you?”

  “I’m okay,” I say.

  “No, you’re not. Steve said you looked bad this morning and that you were chanting and acting strange. Look, I’m coming to get you. Now.” I can hear him moving, the sound of rustling sheets and stuff getting knocked around.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Cody says, and I can hear him opening his car door and shutting it. “Wait out by the road for me.”

  I open my mouth to argue with him, but before I can I hear a noise on the road, a car coming. I can see the first faint beams of its headlights.

  “Someone’s coming, I have to go,” I say as I sprint across the road and dive back into the trees.

  “Fifteen minutes,” Cody says, and I hang up and put the phone in my jeans pocket because I can’t figure out how to make the light turn off.

  I work my way as deep into the shadows as I can and hunker down against a tree. The sky is changing now, the dark becoming more gray than black. It makes everything crisper, easier to see, which means I’ll be easier to spot too. The headlights get brighter. I try not to freak out. It could be anyone out there, but then the lights move past me and I can see the vehicle behind them. It’s one of the Community vans and it’s slowing down, pulling off onto the hard-packed dirt. The driver’s-side door opens and Jonathan gets out. A thrill of terror runs through me. I wish I’d hidden farther in, but it’s too late to move now. I don’t like that he’s stopped out on the road. What will he do when Cody shows up?

  I have to find a way to get to Cody before he ends up here. I can’t call him, because the phone’s light will give me away. If I could only find a way to move to the left and work my way farther down, maybe I could run parallel to the road in the direction of town. The trees don’t thin out right away. If I go fast, I’ll be able to get far enough away that Jonathan won’t see me leaving when I finally pop back onto the road.

  I am just about to risk moving when I hear another car. Another of the Community vans pulls up next to Jonathan’s. The door opens and Mr. Brown and Brian get out. I can feel the terror taking over now. They’re going to find me, I can feel it. My teeth start to chatter and I have to clench my jaw hard to make them stop. I put my hand on the shears.

  Mr. Brown walks over to Jonathan. “Are you ready, son?”

  “I’ve been ready for a long time,” Jonathan says.

  “Good. Very soon you will officially earn your place as one of the Chosen.” He claps Jonathan on the back.

  “Three hours left to get everything in place,” Jonathan says. “You have the rest of the fuel?”

  Brian holds up a red gas container. “There’s more in the van. I managed to get the last ones filled today.”

  Jonathan moves to the back of his van and opens the double doors.
I can’t see him anymore, he’s hidden by one of them, but I watch Brian move around to where he is and hand him the red container. Mr. Brown goes back to his van and pulls out more red cans. They make a sort of assembly line from one van to the other.

  Every minute that goes by, I get more and more panicked. Cody will be here soon and I can’t move.

  “That’s all the cans. Brian, come help me with the other package,” Mr. Brown says. Jonathan disappears into the back of his van. I watch as Brian follows Mr. Brown back to the other van again. Mr. Brown climbs in and the van rocks a little. There’s a shout of surprise or pain and then a moment later someone else emerges from the van, falls out of the back into Brian’s arms, knocking him to the ground.

  “Hey!” he hollers. The person on top of him scrambles up. It’s a woman. Her hands are bound and there’s a gag in her mouth. Still, I can hear her muffled screams. She almost trips, then finds her footing and starts to run past the vans, out into the road. It’s Mrs. Rosen. They took Mrs. Rosen. That’s why she never met with Jack or came to get Will and the others.

  Mr. Brown hurtles out of the van. “Get up and get her!” he hollers, and Brian pushes up off the ground and takes off.

  “Jonathan!” Mr. Brown shouts, and then Jonathan’s out of his van with a rifle in one hand. She’s not going to make it. I will her forward, but already I’m sure that this is it. They’re going to kill her. Mrs. Rosen appears on the other side of Jonathan’s van. She’s running, but there’s nowhere for her to go. I can’t see her face, but I can tell by the way that she keeps looking back that she knows it.

  There’s a loud bang. It echoes out into the almost morning, scaring a bunch of birds from the treetops over my head. They rise into the air, a swirling, panicking mass that quickly wings off to the left and disappears.

  Mrs. Rosen turns around. Her coat front is covered in bits of down tinged red with blood. Behind her Jonathan lowers his rifle. At close range like that, he had to have blown a terrible hole in her chest, but I can’t see it from here. She looks down at her chest and her body falls forward. I feel like I’m seeing everything in slow motion, but then she’s on the ground before I can blink. I can feel the thud her body makes in my chest.