Gated

by Amy Christine Parker

  “Oh, now, don’t be that way, Little Owl. We both know you’re no good at that sort of thing anyway.” Pioneer’s mocking me. He sounds more amused than scared. It terrifies me.

  I lift the gun and point it at the stalls. My hands are shaking and it’s bouncing up and down. Steady, Lyla, steady. I blow out two quick breaths and concentrate on making my arms stiff and still.

  “I’ll get to you before you muster up the courage to even try it,” Pioneer says, and he sounds a little closer—or am I just imagining it? “See, I won’t hesitate before I shoot you. I’m delivering you to the Brethren. There’s no shortage of joy in that for me. But you? You seem unsure of where we’re all headed, and that makes you unsure about what taking my life really means. You seem to think the only way to save someone is not to shoot. You’re still that little owl you’ve always been. Always watching, always afraid to act. You don’t have the conviction to do what must be done. Never have, never will … but you know I do.”

  He’s right, I’m no good at this. Maybe I can just crawl outside. I look at the wide entrance to the barn. I’d have to pass every stall to get to it. I’ll never be able to get there fast enough, not with one bad leg. And Cody’s in here somewhere. I can’t leave without him. I’m stuck. I have no choice but to defend myself.

  A loud boom echoes out of the open stall. Pioneer kicked the side of one of the stalls to try to scare me. It works. I scream and the gun goes off. He laughs. He’s trying to keep me scared and distracted. Any minute now he’ll come for me. I aim at the stall I think the noise came from. I almost let off another shot, but then think better of it. I don’t know how many bullets are left. Better to wait for him to show himself. I go back to concentrating on keeping my hands steady.

  “You still gonna try to shoot me?” Pioneer’s voice is light, teasing. “Better make that next shot a good one ’cause it’s all you’re gonna get.”

  All of a sudden he throws himself over the wall of one stall and into the next. I raise the gun a little, try to aim, but he’s too fast. The moment’s over. He’s closing the distance between us.

  I slide my knees a little farther apart and try to keep my balance. He might not be able to get me if I’m quick. He’ll have to clear the table first no matter what, and I’ll have that extra few seconds to try to shoot again if I miss this time.

  “Stop right there!” I shout, but my voice is trembling.

  Pioneer laughs. It’s overly loud. Confident.

  I try to get angry. I want the anger to dilute my fear. I force myself to think about Indy and Marie. I remember the way Marie looked at him right before he slit her throat. And about Cody. He’s lying in this barn somewhere hurt … maybe even dying. I have to find him, help him.

  I can do this.

  I have to do this.

  “Lyyy-laaa.” Pioneer sings my name softly.

  I shiver hard enough that I almost drop the gun. I grip it tighter, then tuck my face close to my arms, keeping my eyes on the sight at the end of the gun. I watch the top of the stall for any signs of movement. My finger twitches on the trigger.

  It gets quiet.

  I stay very, very still … and wait.

  A minute goes by, maybe more. I can hear people outside, getting closer. I think about calling to them, but I can’t speak. Pioneer won’t wait much longer. I can’t get distracted. He’s coming for me.

  Suddenly Pioneer leaps up from the second stall with his gun aimed at my head. I don’t look at his eyes. I focus on his chest, just the way he taught me to at the range. I pull the trigger at the same time he does. Wood splinters off the walls. I can hear it hitting the ground like rain. Am I hit? I don’t think so.… He’s still coming. I must’ve missed him too. I take aim again just as Pioneer reaches the tables. He lifts his gun. Our eyes meet. His mouth curves up a little.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  For the second time today, I’m deafened by gunfire. I fired … more than once I think … but did he? I look down at my chest. I’m surprised when I don’t see blood blooming there.

  He’s missed again.

  I’m okay.

  I look over to where he was. There’s a spray of blood on the inside of the stall door right across from me. Pioneer’s slowly pulling himself across the floor and into the opposite stall. He’s hurt but alive. His gun is on the floor. He dropped it when I shot him. Still, I keep my gun aimed in his direction just in case.

  Men pour into the barn almost immediately. They heard the shots. I can’t seem to make my mouth work, so I point toward the stalls. They find Pioneer right away.

  He’s not moving anymore.

  One of the guys who worked on my leg steps forward and begins to open Pioneer’s shirt. He feels along his neck for a pulse. He nods. Pioneer is still alive. But I can tell by the way everyone’s started rushing around that he might not be soon.

  A stretcher seems to materialize out of nowhere. They put Pioneer on it and start rolling him out the door. They go right past me, and when they do, Pioneer’s head turns in my direction. He’s awake, but his eyes are glassy, his face gray. He looks at me, and that look burns into my brain. I raise the gun again because for a brief, hysterical moment I’m convinced he’s going to try to lunge at me.

  “You’re mine,” he says. I don’t hear him, but I see his mouth make the words. My finger twitches on the trigger, but I don’t shoot. And then he’s gone.

  Someone takes the gun from my hands. Someone else leads me back to the bench. I’m shaking all over, my teeth chattering so violently inside my head that I’m afraid I’ll bite off my tongue. The man in front of me tries talking to me, but I can’t answer him. I just stare out into the barn.

  “Cody” is all I manage to say when I can finally get ahold of myself enough to speak.

  The sheriff’s eyes widen and he goes completely white. He runs down the walkway yelling Cody’s name. They find him just beyond the tack room. He’s got some bruising around his neck where Pioneer grabbed him, cutting off his airway until he went unconscious, but otherwise he’s okay. They set him next to me on the bench, and he rubs his neck and winces.

  “You’re okay.” He says it like he was sure that I wouldn’t be. He smiles just a little and reaches up to touch my cheek before leaning back against the wall behind him and closing his eyes. I stare at the quickly darkening bruises on his neck and try to stop shaking.

  My parents are still underground. So are Will and everyone else. It isn’t over. Pioneer could’ve trapped them down there or they could still be preparing to fight. They don’t know that Pioneer’s been shot.

  The police find the emergency tunnel down to the Silo without my help. I watch them motion to each other and then talk into their headsets, but I can’t hear them. I’m not sure if it’s because of the gunshot or my chattering teeth, or if my brain has just decided not to let me hear. They crowd into the last stall and look at the floor where the tunnel is.

  After a few minutes of tense silence, they call down into the tunnel and we wait to see if anyone will answer. We’re all holding our breath. Then my dad’s voice carries up from underground and breaks the spell.

  “We’re okay and we’re unarmed.”

  Tears roll down my face. I wasn’t completely sure that they would stop fighting. A flood of relief overwhelms me and I tip my head back against the wood and smile in the midst of my tears. No one else is going to die. It’s over. It’s all over.

  My friends and family emerge from the Silo one by one. They climb up into the stall wide-eyed and blinking like babies seeing the world for the first time. They huddle together once they’re out. I can see the uncertainty in their faces. I know what they’re thinking. What now? I’m wondering the same thing. I want to rush into their midst and find my parents, but I hang back. I’m not sure what they’ll think of me once they know I shot Pioneer.

  My parents end up being among the last to leave the Silo. My dad is practically dragging my mom out. She’s completely unresponsive. Karen’s shoes are sti
ll in her hands. When he sees me, he grabs me up in his arms and hugs me for a long time. We’re both crying when he finally lets go. My mom stands beside us, but she doesn’t move or hug me or even look at me. She doesn’t do anything at all. She’s just standing there, perfectly still. I try not to let it destroy me. I know this isn’t how she wanted this to end, but for now I guess it’s enough that she’s here, that we all are.

  In the Community, life seemed perfect.

  I thought the evil lived outside our walls. I was wrong.

  —Lyla Hamilton, member of the Community

  (Taken from the audiotapes of her interview with Sheriff Crowley, ten days after the raid on Mandrodage Meadows)

  On the day Pioneer said that the world would end, we come back to Mandrodage Meadows. It’s the tail end of fall, and the last of the warm weather is long gone. Most of the leaves have finished dropping. They make shushing noises under our feet as we walk. Cody says that the forecasters are predicting an early and unusually long winter this year. If today is any indication, they’ll be right. There’s a chill in the air that hints at the snow we’re supposed to get later on in the week. I’m kind of glad that it’s cold. Somehow the weather fits the moment—like the whole world is saying goodbye with us.

  I didn’t want to come back. I wasn’t sure that I could be here again. But the counselors thought it would be a good idea and so here we are. They said it would bring us closure. When we watch the sun set in an hour and the world doesn’t end, maybe we can finally face the truth. The apocalypse isn’t coming. And then we can move on, start over. But they have no idea what they’re talking about. There’s no starting over. There’s just going on. I’m not sure why they can’t see that. I guess maybe only people like us can, people conditioned to survive, not overcome.

  I follow everyone else down the path that leads to the orchard and the Silo. Mandrodage Meadows looks like it did before we left. It’s only been a couple of months since then. It hasn’t been long enough for it to look neglected, but already it feels eerie, haunted. There are ghosts here, lingering in the twilight, waiting for us.

  My parents are up ahead, but I don’t try to catch up to them. Instead I keep a careful distance between me and everyone else. It’s better this way for all of us—or at least for all of them.

  The day of the raid, five people in the Community died. Three of them—Brian’s dad; Julie’s Intended, Mark; and Mr. Brown’s son, Luke—were killed on the wall when the sheriff and his men first showed up. Marie lost her life trying to free me. Mr. Whitcomb was shot and killed in the tunnel when the sheriff’s men opened fire after they pulled me out. I shot Pioneer … but he’s still alive. I hit him twice in the chest—centimeters from his heart, so close that if he’d breathed a little deeper at the moment that I shot him, he would’ve died right then. The sheriff told me that he flatlined twice on the way to the hospital anyway, and had to endure several surgeries and a pretty serious infection, but still, he pulled through. The sheriff also says that if anyone else had the complications he’s had and survived, the doctors would call it a miracle. They refuse to say that about Pioneer’s recovery … and neither will I. His survival can’t be a miracle. Because that could mean that maybe he really is who he says he is—a prophet or messiah.

  But no.

  I can’t believe that. I won’t.

  Pioneer won’t be here today. He’s in the hospital, and even if he wasn’t, he’d be in jail. Still, I can feel his presence here too. I pull my jacket closer around me.

  You’re mine.

  I’ve tried to put his last words to me out of my head, but they’re stuck in my brain, playing over and over on a loop. I know what it means. He won’t let me go. Not while he’s still alive. Maybe not ever. I close my eyes and take a breath. He’s going to jail. He can’t come for me—not anymore. The sheriff said he’d make sure that he never could … but still I can’t make myself stop jumping at every sound, from looking for him around every dark corner, from thinking that the wind moaning through the trees at night is him calling my name. I wasn’t trying to kill him when I shot him. I just wanted to stop him from coming for me, but now I can’t help wishing sometimes that I had—then maybe this knot of fear that seems to have settled into my chest would’ve unraveled and gone away a long time ago.

  The others are holding on to each other as we get closer to the Silo. No one waits or comes back to walk with me. I wonder if they’re disappointed that Pioneer’s not here. Do they want him and not me? I used to know them well enough to know what they were probably thinking, but I’ve been kept away from the Community by the sheriff long enough not to feel like a real part of them anymore. He’s pretty sure that most of them still blame me for what happened during the raid and that the only way to keep me safe from their anger over it is to keep me separated—at least until their counselors have had time to make them see the truth. He’s here now—somewhere out of the sight line of the others—watching the group, keeping his promise to me.

  Cody stayed in town today. His dad and my counselor, Mrs. Rosen, wouldn’t allow him to come with us even though he lobbied pretty hard to be included. Honestly, I’m glad he stayed behind, but I didn’t tell him so. I need to be here alone. I need to say my goodbyes without him hovering anxiously over me. I don’t want him to worry if I end up breaking down. He’s part of my future, and I need to keep that piece of my life far away from this place.

  The group stops and fans out around the Silo’s iron door. I drop back a bit more and watch them settle in. I lean against a tree and tuck my head into the collar of my jacket. The cold metal zipper bumps my lips. Mrs. Rosen comes to stand beside me. She had been walking with Heather and Julie because she’s their counselor too. I guess now it’s my turn to get my hand held.

  “How you holding up, Lyla?” She gives me a warm smile and touches her shoulder against mine.

  “Fine,” I say. I don’t elaborate even though she’s staring at me, waiting to see if I’ll say anything more. I just want her to go back to the group and leave me alone. Eventually she does. She wanted me to talk about my feelings, about how this little trip is making me feel. The truth is that I don’t know. I feel too many things to be able to put them into a tidy sentence or two for her. What I want is to be more numb than anything else. If I let all the pain in, it might be too much to bear. One day I’ll try, but not now, not yet.

  Dr. Freeman, the head of the counseling group, clears his throat to get our attention. He leans against the Silo’s door and begins to talk about what he thinks this day means. I can’t focus on his words; my mind keeps drifting back to the past—the day I came to Mandrodage Meadows, the day I rode Indy for the first time, the night I danced with Will by the river. And almost as if the memory itself conjures him up, Will is there, standing beside me.

  “Weird to be back, isn’t it?” Will’s talking to me but staring straight ahead. I can only see his profile from where I’m standing. I can’t read his expression at all. My heart beats a little faster. I haven’t talked to him since we were here, when he left me in the cell. But I’ve wanted to every single day.

  I shrug. I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid I’ll say the wrong thing. I don’t want him to walk away. There’s so much that I’ve wanted to tell him. I lost Marie and now I’m terrified that I’ve lost him too, that it’s already too late. He was my best friend once upon a time, and part of me keeps hoping somehow he will be again.

  Will doesn’t seem to notice that I haven’t answered him. His eyes are on the Silo door. “I keep thinking that the last couple of months are part of some bad dream. That I’ll wake up and we’ll be out in the pool playing chicken with Brian and Marie. You have no idea how much I wish that were true.” His voice cracks a little.

  I swallow hard and try not to cry. This is where he’ll blame me for ruining things. This is where he’ll say that he hopes he’ll never see me again.

  He takes a deep breath. “I just want it all back. So much. I’m not like you, Lyl
a. I’m not strong. I wish I could be. I would’ve died down there that day if it weren’t for you. We all would have.”

  This is not what I expected him to say at all.

  “Can you forgive me for not believing you when you tried to warn me?” Will is hunched over like he’s expecting me to say no or to yell at him and tell him to go away. All at once I have the overwhelming urge to hug him.

  “I was never mad at you, Will,” I say, and then I do hug him. “I thought that you still blamed me for everything. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so, so much.”

  He rests his head against my hair and I smile into his jacket. “I missed you too,” he says quietly.

  “It’s almost time,” someone calls out, and we pull apart just as the sun touches the tree line.

  “I know it’s not gonna happen, but I’m still nervous,” Will says.

  I look up at the sky. There are clouds moving in from the west, but they’re still far away from where we are. The sky is a deep blue and the horizon is glowing orange, making the trees look like they’re on fire. It’s beautiful and vibrant and alive.

  I think about what he’s said about me being strong. I don’t see myself that way. I didn’t think anyone else did either. I was always just Little Owl, the observer, the weak link, the one everyone worried about. How did that change? How did I? The whole time we were growing up, I thought Will, Brian, and Marie were the brave ones, and now it turns out that I am? I feel like I’m only just now figuring out who I really am—or maybe who I can be.

  “See, it’s almost dark. It’s not going to happen,” Will says, more to himself than to me.

  I stare at the Silo’s door and then back at the sky.

  The weird thing is that it still could. I mean, it won’t, of course, but on any given day anything’s possible. It’s what makes being here—on this planet—scary. We can’t predict what will happen. We can’t control any of it. Good things. Horrible things. We can only deal with it as it comes. I look at the half circle of people in front of us and try to find the right words for what I’m thinking so I can tell Will, but the moment for talking passes and I lean into him instead.