Danger was brewing.
Jory felt it whenever Caleb glanced at Kit. Whenever Kit glanced at Caleb. Whenever Caleb glanced at Jory—just an expressionless glance, not a glare. But every single time it happened, Jory felt like cringing. Like digging a hole and covering himself up. He couldn’t believe he’d talked back to Caleb last night. That he’d challenged his stepdad’s leadership.
In a sense, Ansel reaching for Kit was the same thing.
Jory worked with his shoulders hunched in nervous anticipation—not for a sudden certainty, but for something bad to happen.
It didn’t take long.
Kit was helping Jory hide another air shaft when it happened. Her shovel punched into a centipede nest. There were thousands of them. Or maybe it just seemed that way because of all the wicked-looking legs. They poured out like a wriggling geyser, some of them practically springing into the air in their fury to escape.
“Gross,” Jory said cheerfully. “That’s not a surprise you want to—”
Kit began to scream.
And scream.
And scream.
She’d never spoken in front of Mom and Caleb. She’d never cried or laughed or even whimpered. And now her voice echoed through the canyon, sharp and high and almost deafening.
She screamed so loudly the entire family was shocked stiff for a moment. Then Jory, Mom, and Caleb all lunged for her at the same time. Mom caught her first, but Kit twisted loose. She hurled her shovel into the brush, and screamed, and screamed.
Jory clasped a gloved hand over her mouth. “Shhh,” he hissed. “Kit, you’ll wake the neighbors.”
But she wouldn’t listen. She kept whimpering into his glove, squirming and thrashing, her ankles pounding his shins.
“Please,” Mom pleaded. “Honey, please!”
But Kit was inconsolable. Again, she broke free. Her voice rose into a high-pitched shriek—silenced by a smack across the face. The force of Caleb’s gloved hand sent her flailing backward into a patch of creosote.
“Listen here, girl,” he said while Kit cried soundlessly. “Your mother and I are saving your life. We owe you nothing—absolutely nothing. You should be grateful. Hear me?”
Mom was crying too. Jory tried to catch her eyes, but they remained on Kit. So did Ansel’s—even though just yesterday, he’d reached for her first. But Caleb’s stare was the most intense of all. Like instead of a nine-year-old girl, a wild animal crouched there in the brush.
Undomesticated.
Untrustworthy.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. Caleb hauled Kit out of the canyon and put her to bed, the rest of the family hot on their heels. Ansel, too. He started bawling a second after the slap and wouldn’t quit, no matter how Mom tried to console him.
Only Caleb and Jory returned to the canyon that night. They worked in heavy silence. Jory wanted to ask his stepdad questions, but he was afraid. Afraid of Caleb’s angry eyes. Afraid of the revelations beneath his thick, dark beard.
Afraid of his gloved hand.
By now, the centipedes had all scampered away. Jory finished hiding the air shaft by himself. He kept glancing down at Caleb, who was replanting shrubs to look more natural. It was a delicate job, but Caleb found every excuse to slash at the dirt with his shovel. Jory winced at every snap of roots, every violent crunch of earth.
When they returned home, Jory had trouble sleeping. He kept thinking of Kit’s shrieks, the way they echoed through the canyon. The way Jory could almost hear words in the sound: those sentences that, for whatever reason, Kit hadn’t been able to say.
I don’t care what’s coming!
I don’t want to get buried alive!
Even when he finally slept, the sounds followed him into his dreams. Dreams of skies that spun and stars that fell. Dreams of sunshine inked over by blackness. Dreams of the end of his world.
Early the next morning, Mom came into Jory’s room. Her expression made the room stagger and sway. “They took her,” she said.
“They took who?
Mom just stared at him, her eyes shining with tears.
“Kit? They took Kit?”
She nodded. “The people in suits. Caleb tried to stop them, but—they had papers, Jory.” She sobbed. “They had papers.”
“Officials?”
She nodded again. “They said they could arrest us all if we didn’t give her up.”
Jory thought of the Officials who’d come to his door before. The man with glasses. The woman with the badge. No! He tried to swing his legs out of bed, but they got tangled in the covers. He shoved at them, his hands shaking violently, his chest aflame. “But I didn’t—why didn’t I hear it? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Another sob shook her. “He said it all happened so fast.”
“Where’d they take her? It’s not too late—you can’t just take somebody….” Finally, the covers fell away. “We have to find her, Mom!”
She reached for him, but he ducked away and ran down the hall. “Kit!” he called, stumbling over his own feet and nearly toppling down the stairs.
He burst outside and into the fields. The sky was the palest pink. A delicate, lovely color, which was absolutely wrong. Didn’t the sky know the world was ending? He called Kit’s name again and again, at the top of his lungs.
Then he tripped over a pumpkin vine and landed hard. Pain shuddered through his knees. Caleb reached him seconds later.
“Get ahold of yourself!” he shouted, shaking Jory by the shoulders.
“We’ve got to go after her!” Jory sobbed. “We’ve got to stop them, they can’t be that far—we’ve got to save her….”
“Lower your voice.” Caleb released him. “I’m sorry, Jory, but it’s too late. I lied the best I could, but the Officials had papers. There was nothing I could do for her without putting the rest of us in danger. They could have taken you and Ansel, too.”
“But…” How could Caleb give her up, just like that? Why was he acting so calm about it? “We can’t just…We have to do something!”
“There was nothing I could do for her,” Caleb said again.
Mom knelt beside Jory. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back, rocking him, their tears soaking each other’s neck and shoulders.
“I need you to be strong, my love,” she said. “For me. For your brother. Because we are doing something. We’re saving ourselves.”
THEY WERE ALMOST OUT OF TIME.
The Officials could return any day, Caleb said. Any moment. The family—what was left of the family—worked all night. And the next. For once, Jory was thankful for the hard work. Thankful for the dark.
It made it much, much easier not to think. Because when he did think, his thoughts were filled with Kit. Where she’d gone. Who had taken her. If he’d ever see her again.
What it meant for the rest of Caleb’s predictions.
Whether they’d all come true, too.
The bunker was finished. Only supplies were left—many of them too large to carry down the trail. So they loaded Caleb’s truck and drove it to another entrance to the canyon, by the bridge.
The truck could make it halfway down this slope, which was less steep. Still, dragging the trailer the rest of the way sapped every ounce of strength in Jory’s tired body. Even with all three of them working together. It hardly helped, of course, that Ansel rode on top. But Jory didn’t complain.
He didn’t speak at all.
There was nothing left to say.
The family filled the bunker sack by sack. Tub by tub. They filled it with innumerable boxes of candles, soap, cloth diapers for Ansel, paper towels and real towels, cans of food, lemon-scented baby wipes to keep the family lemon-scented. Flashlights, lanterns, batteries, sleeping bags and blankets, toiletries and first aid, emergency, defense.
And boulders. For sealing themselves inside, when the time came.
The water drums were the worst, though. Each weighed hundreds of pounds. Eight pounds to a gallon, Caleb said. And
the gallons were endless. All day long, they filled the drums with a garden hose. Jory wondered what their water bill would look like.
Then he realized it wouldn’t matter, after.
When they reached the mouth of their shelter, they rolled each drum down the trailer’s tailgate and into the bunker. It was exhausting. And painful. Jory’s arms felt like spaghetti. His legs felt like pudding. But, somehow, he did it.
Somehow, they finished.
On his way out—the last time, before their final return—Jory stopped and stared at the empty card table. The shelter had seemed larger, somehow, when there was nothing in it. After filling it to the brim with supplies, it felt suffocating. A madhouse of objects, a turbulent swirl of stuff.
Even so, it was hard to believe it was enough to sustain the family for three months, much less six.
Though the family was one person smaller now.
By the time Jory woke up the next day, it was afternoon. Caleb wasn’t home, so Jory joined Mom and Ansel at the kitchen table. A somber, silent trio.
Since they’d packed all the food in the kitchen, Mom made MREs once again: Caleb’s soldier meals. Jory poked at his glumly. Their novelty had long since worn off. Mom poked at hers, too. He wondered if she was thinking about Kit.
A mother’s love is an invisible cord, she’d said, linking her children heart to heart.
He wondered where Kit was right now.
Maybe in a jail, like the one where the officers put Caleb—where they mocked him and laughed at him and spit in his food. But that jail was for soldiers, not for little girls.
In an orphanage, where she had to beg for gruel.
At a training camp for Officials and officers.
Or maybe she’d tipped back her head, spread her arms, and leaped into the sky. He pictured her soaring through the stars, a girl-shaped meteor, her laughter tickling the ears of the startled Officials. For a moment, he almost smiled.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
Mom and Jory stared at each other. “Do you want me to—” he began.
“Don’t be silly,” Mom said, touching Ansel. His lower lip quivered, but he didn’t cry.
“Can’t we just ignore it?”
She pushed her chair back from the table. “We shouldn’t,” she said, patting down her braid. “I’ll just tell them Caleb’s not home. Whoever it is.”
Jory waited apprehensively. Could it be the Officials again? For a split second, he wished they hadn’t already packed the DEFENSE tub in the canyon.
“It’s okay,” Mom said when she returned. “It’s just that girl. The one in the plaid jacket. I don’t mind if you say your good-byes, but be quick.”
Jory knew Mom was being kind, but he didn’t want to talk to Alice. “That’s okay. You can tell her I’m busy.”
“Jory…” Mom gazed at him for a moment, like she couldn’t find the words she wanted. “Just talk to her. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
He nodded, sighed, and went.
Alice stood there with her plaid arms crossed, chewing on her lip. “Hi, Jory.”
He waved two fingers.
“Mr. Bradley says you’re gonna be homeschooled again,” Alice said. “Is that true?”
“For now.”
“At least you won’t have to deal with all the human wastes anymore. We’ve got double our share at school, that’s for sure.”
Jory didn’t say anything. Alice looked even more nervous.
“So…is Kit around?” she asked.
“She’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone? Where is she?”
“The Officials took her.”
“The Officials? Like…the police? Or…”
“Why don’t you ask your mom?”
Alice gaped at him. “My mom? What…” Then realization dawned on her face. Instead of shoving back her cuffs, she pulled them over her hands. “I didn’t mean to…My mom and I are really close. We share almost everything. I only told her because I was worried, because you said Kit was sick, and she hadn’t been to a doctor, and I—I didn’t think she’d tell anyone, Jory! I really didn’t. I’m so sorry.”
Jory bit the inside of his cheeks. Right now, he didn’t feel angry. Just heavy.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me. I understand.” Alice took a deep breath. “But I want you to know that I’ll be here. If you’re ever ready to be friends again.”
Friends.
The word revved his heartbeat. It made him feel like he was whooshing down hills and breathing eucalyptus. Standing at the edge of the world and reaching toward the sky.
He hadn’t wanted to tell Alice anything.
Now he wanted to tell her everything.
About the canyon, and the bunker, and the danger from above but also all around them. That he was scared, so scared, because he didn’t know what was true. The danger might be real. The Officials had taken his sister.
Jory didn’t want to be buried alive.
But he knew he couldn’t have both, the possibilities of the daylight and the safety underground. He couldn’t have friends and family, too.
And he’d chosen his family.
“Good-bye, Alice,” Jory said.
He shut the door.
Mom was waiting for him in the kitchen. She looked young and old all at once, and very, very sad. “Oh, Jory,” she said. “All I’ve ever wanted is to keep you safe.”
When Mom said that, Jory believed her. “What about Kit?” he asked.
“We’ll get her back,” Mom said softly. “I promise we will.”
Hope sparked in Jory’s chest. “When?”
“It’ll have to be after.”
He hesitated, then nodded. Then he leaned over and hugged her. “I love you, Mom,” he said.
She hugged him back.
Jory didn’t have Kit to protect anymore, but he could still protect Mom—just like she’d tried to protect him.
No matter what happened.
THE FAMILY PREPARED THE HOUSE CAREFULLY FOR THEIR DEPARTURE.
They cleaned the kitchen with soap and bleach, sanitizing every surface as best as they could by lantern light. They swept the floors three times and dumped the dustpan in the fields. They made their beds with military precision, smoothing every last wrinkle out of their pillows while Caleb observed.
“What about Kit’s room?” Jory asked.
Caleb waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. The Officials know she’s not with us.”
“But—” Jory began.
“Don’t forget to get the mail,” Caleb said. “We don’t want to tip off the mailperson that we’re missing before we’re ready. Although they’ll know soon enough. Can you imagine what it’ll be like? When the Officials realize we’re gone? When they knock on our door and no one answers? The beds all nicely made—Oh, it’ll be a riot. Too bad we won’t be here to see it.”
His eyes weren’t just smiling, but beaming. He picked up Ansel and swung him around.
“Nobody would ever think in a million years we were just a short hike away, safe and sound underground, waiting for the marvelous after.”
“After…” Jory began.
Caleb set down Ansel and looked at Jory. “Yes?”
“After it’s all…” He swallowed. “Are we coming back here?”
“I’m sure we’ll want to stop by—for a good old-fashioned shower, at least, as long as the pipes are still in working order.”
“But we won’t be living here?”
“I don’t think so. Why would we? We’ll be able to take our pick of any house in town.” Caleb patted Jory’s shoulder. “I’ll bet you even have one in mind.”
He couldn’t help it—he thought of Alice’s house, with its yellow curtains and ancient computers. She was planning on moving to a new house anyway, wasn’t she? He thought of the blue farmhouse down the street that looked so much like theirs. He thought of the neighbor ladies’ house across the canyon, and Panda breaking free of their fence.
“Not really,” Jory said. “Where will everybody else go?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Caleb said.
But how could Jory not? How could Caleb not? Not trusting other people was one thing. But not caring if they lived or—or whatever he thought might happen to them?
That was another.
And what did that mean for Kit? Caleb had promised to keep her safe—but already it was like he’d forgotten her. Like he wasn’t even worried about her.
Like she’d never really mattered to him at all.
The family waited as Caleb thought long and hard about whether to leave a light on. “It might take the Officials longer to realize we’re missing,” he mused. “But then again, it might draw them to the house. If they knock, they’ll think we’re ignoring them.”
“Either way, your truck will be here,” Mom pointed out.
“True.”
In the end, Caleb decided to leave one lamp on, beside the front door.
“Now what?” Jory asked.
“Now we wait.”
Jory headed to Kit’s room instead of his.
It was dark, but he didn’t want to turn on a light. He lifted the blinds. First a bit, then all the way. A wedge of moonlight brightened the room, just enough to see her bedside table, her flowered blanket. Her broken, filthy ballet slippers nestled in one corner.
Jory couldn’t bring himself to pick them up.
He turned back to her window. So this was what Kit saw when she looked outside. The window faced a different direction than his. Not the canyon, but the rest of the world. More sky, out that way. The way from which she came, which Jory still knew barely anything about. Wherever she might be right now.
Suddenly, Jory saw movement in the fields. His heart skipped a beat.
But it was just a bird—a blackbird, he thought, or maybe a mockingbird. It fluttered and landed, fluttered and landed, then hopped onto the mailbox for a few seconds before taking off into the dark.
The mailbox! He’d forgotten to get the mail.
Jory slipped from Kit’s room and hurried down the stairs. Outside, he jogged across the fields toward the road.
Watch the Sky Page 15
