Gated

by Amy Christine Parker

  I look up and search the crowd for Marie. She’s standing beside her parents. Her eyes meet mine and I can almost feel her fear. She’s waiting for me to call her out, to tell everyone that she’s the one who wanted the books and magazines. But she won’t volunteer herself. And I realize that I can’t turn her in. I’m in trouble no matter what. The money doesn’t explain away the portrait of Cody. Bringing her into this will only make things worse. So I shake my head slightly at her and turn to face Pioneer.

  “I won’t explain the money. I didn’t steal it, though.” I turn toward the crowd. “I know what this looks like, but it isn’t how he says. The sheriff doesn’t want to take the Silo from us. He’s afraid for us. Explain to me how a man who spent years in jail for almost beating a man to death can be the Brethren’s prophet! If the Brethren were really using him, wouldn’t they speak to us as well and tell us that he’s the one? Why have we given up everything to this man? How can you trust anyone who makes it impossible to question them and then has to lie to get you to do what he wants?”

  I’m using the same questions on them that the sheriff and Cody used on me. And saying them out loud makes me more certain that they’re questions that we need to ask. I’m not sure why I never thought of them before, why it took an Outsider to get me to see the chinks in Pioneer’s armor. Now if only I can get everyone else to see what I do.

  Pioneer’s eyes burn so bright that for a second I think they might actually manage to bore a hole in my chest, but then he swallows hard and forces a smile onto his face. “I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else. The Brethren chose me. They speak to me. How dare you question their will! I am not the one who is hiding things here. I know I am an imperfect man. I never said I wasn’t. But I am not the one who is endangering the entire Community over some teenage crush. It is all because of you that that sheriff will show up here again. Where is your concern for what happens then? If he can manage it, he will separate us and force us to leave our home. Do you really think anyone here wants that? Except, of course, for you?”

  I don’t know what to say. I can feel everyone staring at me, their faces hard and angry. No matter what I say, it won’t matter. They believe Pioneer. I’m the liar. I’m the one they’re unsure of. Pioneer’s already won and he knows it. He lips curl up slightly, just enough for me to notice his satisfaction.

  “I’m sorry, Little Owl. Really I am. I’ve failed you. I should’ve nipped this in the bud as soon as I suspected. I’ve always been too soft where you’re concerned, but I promise you now that I will do right by you and teach you the lessons I should have a long time ago.”

  He nods and Mr. Whitcomb and Mr. Brown grab my arms before I have a chance to run.

  “Wait, don’t do this. Mom, Dad, please! Help me!” I beg, but Pioneer’s got his arms around both of my parents and is turning them away from me as he whispers something in their ears.

  “Don’t let him do this. I’m sorry! We just need to talk about this. Please don’t let them take me!”

  Dad!

  Mom!

  Will!

  Please!

  I wait for someone to step forward and help me. My dad looks back at me and for just a moment I’m sure he’ll break away from Pioneer and come get me, but the others block the way, form a wall in between us until I can’t see him anymore. They won’t let him help me. I’ve done the unthinkable. I’ve questioned our whole existence. And for that I have to pay.

  Children, it will not hurt.

  If you’d be … if you’ll be quiet. If you’ll be quiet.

  —Jim Jones

  Mr. Whitcomb and Mr. Brown pull me through the crowd and toward the back of the development. Behind us, the crowd is still milling around, watching Pioneer talk to my family and whispering to one another.

  I struggle to catch my parents’ eyes one last time before I’m out of their sight line, but they’re looking in the opposite direction, toward the entrance to the development. Actually, several people are now looking in that direction. The front gate is swinging open and Brian’s running through it from the guard station with his gun raised over his head.

  “They’re coming! They’re coming!” he shouts.

  All eyes are on him as he rushes up to Pioneer, his face bright with panic. “There’re at least ten trucks and some other cars coming. We’ve got maybe five minutes.”

  There’s a moment of utter silence and then I can almost see the moment where everyone’s shock and disbelief turns to terror.

  Pioneer claps his hands to get their attention. “Everyone, please, we can’t panic. We knew this was coming. There’s not enough time to get everyone into the Silo without leading them right to us.” He lowers his head and puts his hands on his hips like I’ve seen runners do after a long race. “We’re out of choices. Our only option now is to fight. If we go on the offensive first and open fire, we can buy ourselves some time. They’ll have to retreat and regroup and then we can enter the Silo.”

  People begin running for their homes to get their rifles. Those with guns on them already rush to the developments’ walls and the front gate. They fall into shooting positions with their rifles drawn, their faces set. Brian runs back to close the front gate.

  “Get her out of here!” Pioneer yells when he sees me still standing in the middle of the road with Mr. Brown and Mr. Whitcomb. Mr. Brown snaps out of his daze and yanks me toward the path that leads to the Silo.

  I have just enough time to see my dad run back out of our house and hand my mom her gun. Together, they turn and run toward the wall. Mom looks back at me once, and only for a second, but the disappointment and fear in her face are clear. Tears prick my eyes. I try not to wonder if we’ll see each other again. I don’t want them to get hurt. I never wanted anyone to get hurt.

  We’re almost to the Silo when a flood of gunfire echoes out across the development. I jump and the men glance at each other. They quicken their pace, anxious to get back and help the others. Tears flood my cheeks and my palms grow slick. How can I just sit inside the Silo and wait while everyone else is out here fighting and maybe even dying?

  There’s a small cell in the supply room on the bottom floor of the Silo. Pioneer said we needed it just in case someone breaks the rules while we’re underground. That’s where they take me now. I’ll be the first person to enter the Silo for good.

  At first I try to struggle, to get free, but Mr. Whitcomb’s grip is too tight and Mr. Brown is carrying a gun. I don’t think he would actually use it on me. He’s known me forever. I’m friends with his daughter. But I’m not confident enough to test him. His eyes are strange—wild. And the way that they’re moving in his head, not focusing on any one thing, unsettles me.

  They throw me into the cell and then hurry out without a word. The supply room door slams shut behind them and then everything is quiet—deafeningly quiet.

  I’m more alone than I have ever been. It scares me. I try to get my heart to stop pounding in my chest. I can’t fight what’s happening. I’m not sure how I thought I could. Cody, Culver Creek, and all the rest of the world up there are quickly becoming more dream than reality now, something that won’t ever be mine. I’m part of the Community and, like it or not, my fate is tied to it.

  I strain my ears to catch some noise, anything that might hint at what’s happening above me, but I’m too deeply buried. I have no idea if the fight’s still raging or if it’s already over. I press my hands to my eyes and try to block out the images that play over and over in my mind of my dad and mom and Will and Marie bleeding out on the ground.

  My stomach roils and there’s a sour taste in my mouth. The waiting and worrying are making me sick. How many people will I lose today? Will the last thing they think about me be that I betrayed them?

  I pace back and forth. The cell is closing in on me. There’s just enough room for a small cot—and a bucket with a toilet seat on top, which I avoid looking at as much as possible. I don’t even want to think about using it. I pace unt
il my legs ache and I’m dizzy from changing directions every few steps. But each time I walk the length of the cell, it seems to shrink a little more. I want to scream, but I can’t. I bite my lip hard enough to make it bleed instead. If I start screaming, I might never stop.

  What’s going on up there? Why is no one coming? It’s been at least an hour already, hasn’t it? I kick out at the wall with my foot. It feels good, so I do it again and again. I kick and kick until I’m out of breath. I need to get out of here. I can’t be stuck down here while everyone else is in danger. They could all be dead right now. How would I know? I suck in breath after breath as I start pacing again. My chest constricts a little each time, shrinks like the cell walls. I need air. I can’t get enough air. I’m alone and everyone I love could be dead or dying. I’m as good as buried alive. My breathing gets faster and faster until I have to sit down and put my head between my knees. I struggle to pull myself back together.

  After a while I lose track of how long I’ve been in the cell. I can’t decide if it’s been hours or almost a day when Pioneer finally shows up. He’s dirty and, from the looks of him, exhausted. His eyes are the only bright thing about him. He walks toward my cell. A kind of manic energy lurks in his expression. I shrink from the bars on instinct.

  “What’s going on?” I croak. I can barely get out the words. I’m not sure that I really want to know now that I actually can.

  “What’s going on?” He chuckles. His laughter is a little too high-pitched and it makes me tremble. “The wolves came to our door, that’s what’s going on. But we beat ’em back.” He nods more to himself than to me. “We kept ’em out. Of course, they’re still out there … creeping, creeping, ready to blow our house down as soon as we tire.”

  He seems to be lost in his own thoughts, talking in metaphors that I don’t understand. A chill runs through me and I hug myself.

  “Is anyone … is everyone okay?” I make myself ask.

  Pioneer looks at me. “Do you still care, Little Owl? Are you really worried about your family or is it the wolves you fear for?”

  He’s scaring me now. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me or the weird tension in his voice.

  “My parents? Will? Marie?” I press.

  “All alive and well—no thanks to you. But you know that I can’t keep them that way, Little Owl, not anymore.” He shakes his head sadly and my whole body feels frozen.

  “What are you saying?”

  Pioneer presses his forehead to the bars and peers in at me. “I’m saying that the sheriff won’t retreat. Sealing ourselves in the Silo won’t keep them away. They’ll find the entrance eventually, and when we refuse to let them in, they will blow, blow, blow our house down. We can’t hide from them or fight them, not like I’d hoped. There’s far too many of them.”

  I lean back against the wall and try not to cry. “What do we do?”

  “I will do whatever it takes to keep those wolves from coming in here and separating us, from brainwashing all of you until you don’t know what’s true anymore. I will not let all of the good in my Community become tainted.” Pioneer looks up at the ceiling. Tears course down his cheeks.

  “All I have ever done is to teach you what’s right. I wanted to help you avoid the Brethren’s ultimate judgment. They gave all of us this one chance.… Why did you help those wolves take it all away?”

  I slump down onto the cot. How did everything get so messed up? I didn’t mean for things to happen this way. I didn’t know. My throat gets thick and tears flood my eyes. I don’t know what to say. I stare at the floor and try to swallow, try to breathe, try to think. “I don’t know … I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. Please, I …” I can’t finish. There’s nothing I can say that’ll make any of this better.

  Pioneer leans forward and looks at me. His face is still wet with tears, but his eyes are darting around the room, focused on nothing and everything at the same time. “I will do whatever it takes to keep them from taking what’s ours. No matter what. Even if that means that our plan has to be … adapted now.”

  I’m not sure what he means by this, but I know I don’t like it.

  “The Brethren are speaking to me now, Little Owl. Right here. They mean for us to return to the earth from which we have sprung and become a part of it again.” He barks out a laugh all at once. It sounds shrill, empty. “The new beginning we seek won’t happen on this earth. No … it is being prepared for us beyond this place.” He nods to himself. It’s like he’s forgotten for the moment that I’m even in the room with him. “Building the Silo was a test of our obedience. We have done what they asked and now they mean to reward us, but we have to be ready to come to them first. It’s the ultimate test.”

  He’s up and pacing the room. The room feels electrified. Dangerous.

  “What are you saying?” I ask. I stay away from the cell’s bars. I don’t want to get too close to him. “We’re supposed to survive.”

  “Not anymore,” he says simply. “Not anymore.”

  I rush up to the bars and grip them tightly, try to shake them even though they can’t move. “No one wants that! No one will do this. This isn’t what we’re here for!” I’m shouting. If I could reach over and slap him, I would. This is all so very wrong.

  Pioneer shakes his head sadly. “You can’t see what I do, Little Owl. But you will. All of you will. They’ve told me what to do now. And I am ready. I will do what must be done—for all of our sakes.”

  “This is crazy! Please! Dying can’t be what they want for us. You’re wrong. This is wrong!” I’m jumping up and down. I need to get out of here. I pull at the cell door and it rattles, but doesn’t give.

  Pioneer doesn’t seem to hear me. His sudden calm is terrifying.

  “You’ll see, it will be wonderful—so much more than we could have ever imagined. I can make the transition peaceful. Yes … no one needs to be scared. It will be like … like falling asleep and waking in the sweetest of dreams. They’re waiting for us. It’s time we go to meet them.”

  I don’t know what more to do or say. I’m stuck. I can’t get out no matter how hard I shake the bars. Pioneer has gone over the edge. He’s going to kill everyone and all I can do is watch—just like with Indy. No one will even know to fight him off. I scream, loud and long. I pull at the bars until my fingers feel sore, and then I kick them with my feet. I can feel my mind wanting to let go, and it takes all my willpower not to let it. I shake my head from side to side and then lean it against the bars.

  Think, Lyla, think. There has to be some way to get out of here.

  Pioneer waits for me to stop thrashing around, then he leans in close to the bars, close enough so that I can feel his breath on my face and smell his sweat. “Your doubt has brought me clarity, Little Owl. Thank you for that. This new direction we’re taking is because of you. And in honor of that, I think I will save your departure from this world for last.”

  He pats my fingers with his palm and turns to leave.

  “Wait!” I shout. I need to keep him here with me.

  I can’t let him walk away. But I have no other choice. In desperation I take the toilet seat off the bucket, thread it through the bars, and throw it at him. He doesn’t do more than hesitate by the door as it lands at his feet. I missed. He looks back and wiggles his fingers at me—a very unsettling goodbye. Then he turns out the lights and steps out into the dimly lit hall. His silhouette lingers in the doorway for a moment.

  “I think you should enjoy a little darkness now so that you may truly appreciate the coming light,” he says. Then he disappears into the hall. The door swings shut behind him with a soft thud.

  The room is pitch-black. I can’t see anything, not even my own body. I scream again, but the sound seems to get swallowed up by the dark.

  I’m trapped and alone.

  Buried.

  The Silo was never meant to be a shelter. I understand that now. It was always meant to be a tomb.

  How very much I’ve tried my best t
o give you a good life.

  But in spite of all my trying, a handful of people with their lies have made our lives impossible.

  —Jim Jones

  The darkness and silence are complete after Pioneer leaves. If anyone is in the rooms above me, I can’t hear them. There’s only the impenetrable black and the staccato rhythm of my heart.

  More time passes. I can’t be sure how much because there’s no way to know. I’ve started talking out loud to the empty room to try to distract myself and keep my claustrophobia at bay. At first I was screaming over and over to be let out, but if I can’t hear anyone, they probably can’t hear me either. And the screaming, even though it’s coming from my own chest, is frightening to hear. It makes my panic grow until I feel like I might explode into a million bits.

  I go back to pacing the small cell.

  “Someone will come. Someone will be here soon. He won’t do what he said. He can’t.” I say these things out loud over and over, but it isn’t really helping. The dark is a living thing around me, fluid and full of shadowy shapes that I know probably aren’t real, but even so, I’m starting to wonder. I press my hands to my eyes because I can’t tell anymore if they’re open or closed.

  I pace my cell, counting out the steps it takes to go from wall to wall. Seven forward, seven to the left, seven to the right. I run my hands along the bars and then the wall and then the bars again as I walk, stopping only after I count five hundred steps. Then I lie on the cot, pull my feet to my chest, and try to make myself calm down. I close my eyes. I can’t stand staring into the darkness anymore. And my head. It feels worse than when I hit it in the parking lot. Without trying, I fall asleep.

  Some time later, a sliver of light wakes me up. My eyes scrunch in protest and I place a hand across my face, shrinking back into the cot. I want to cry with relief. I’m not completely alone. Someone’s come. But then I remember what Pioneer said about saving me for last. He’s come for me. I scramble off the cot and pull it on its side in front of me like a barrier. I don’t know how else to protect myself. There’s nowhere to hide.