by Megan Lynch
Denver pulled a rag from her apron pocket and wiped up the spill. She looked up at JoJo, who had turned his head to face her again. He mouthed Bristol.
Bristol?
Denver told one of the ladies that she needed to go, and took off for the dorms. When she got to Bristol’s, she burst in and scanned all the beds, unsure which was his. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t in any of them. She turned immediately, heart racing, and rushed to the meeting house.
She opened the doors and saw Samara and Taye both working with students at separate tables. “Oh, thank God,” she breathed.
“Why?” asked Taye immediately.
Denver set a hard gaze on Taye and said, “I assumed I’d walk in on you two deep in a lover’s embrace this time. I’m just thankful I didn’t.”
Taye smirked, but Samara stood up and walked to Denver, drawing her face close to hers. “What’s wrong? Is it JoJo?”
“Maybe. Something does seem off. But I came to check on Bristol. Have you seen him?”
Samara’s face fell. “No. Not since this morning when he said he was going to go talk to you.”
“He told me he was going to bed.”
“Then he didn’t?”
“Of course he didn’t,” Denver snapped. “He went with JoJo, I’m almost sure of it now. Both JoJo and Stan acted like they were hiding something just now.”
“Let’s not do anything rash. Let’s look some other places first. Ask Jude. Then, go look in his tree stand.”
Denver nodded, then waited for Samara as she and Taye discussed him taking over for her for the rest of the day. Denver felt a bit silly waiting there for her, like a student herself, unsure of where to go and relying on a teacher to help. For much of her life, she had been a second mother to Bristol, especially after their father died and their mother needed all the help she could get. But her take-charge attitude was completely dependent on someone to take charge of, and Bristol had always provided that. With him missing, Denver could feel a bit of herself gone, too—in place of her assertiveness lay the meek and helpless child she scarcely remembered from the days her dad was still alive.
Denver and Samara didn’t speak much as they ran out to look at Bristol’s tree. When they got there, it was only Stephen and the other guard. Stephen wanted to come with them to look for Bristol, but Denver told him not to abandon his post; for all they knew, it was someone trying to sneak past the guards. She regretted this when she and Samara walked away, still not talking. Together, they checked the field, the infirmary, the lake behind the meeting house. There were no other options but to ask the leaders.
Samara looked at Denver. “I think it’s best if you ask. They know that Bristol and I are in a relationship, but I don’t think they’d approve.”
Denver scowled. “They don’t like romance. They keep me and Stephen apart, too.”
“They don’t want any trouble.”
“Then maybe the time’s right for a regime change.”
Despite having been beside her for hours, Denver hadn’t looked at Samara. She hadn’t noticed the dried tear tracks down her cheek or cut on her lip where she’d been biting it. She noticed those now, and saw her face change to a brighter expression.
Samara moved toward her as if to give her a hug, but stopped short of that and patted her shoulder. “It’s definitely time. Have you told the other girls in the kitchen?”
Denver’s eyes widened. “No. No, I meant to after I talked with JoJo, but…”
“Never mind,” said Samara. “Go tell them now, it’s almost four and we have a group meeting at five. Then, everyone’s going to bed. Make sure they know by the time they go to the meeting that they’ll be waking up at eleven.”
“What about Bristol?”
“I’ll ask the leaders. We’ll find them.”
Denver nodded, wondering if she should offer something else to Samara—a handshake or a hug. But Samara immediately turned and ran toward the office, where Tommy, Karale, and Danovan spent most of their days.
Denver hadn’t thought of how to tell the ladies she worked with that there would be a meeting to discuss overthrowing the leadership tonight. A part of her hoped she wouldn’t have to do it, since it seemed like so much work to run from one society just to overthrow another. But Samara was right; something wasn’t right here. Something had to be done before the leaders ushered in any more danger. She singled out the oldest woman first, who wasn’t old but seemed to have lived long enough to have developed an air of authority. To Denver’s surprise, the woman nodded vigorously when Denver asked if she ever had doubts about the leadership. The woman hung on Denver’s every word as she explained the plan for later that night. After that discussion, they peeled away from each other and talked to as many women as they could while they prepared dinner. It was a curious thing, the kitchen staff talking to each other as they worked. The noise level didn’t rise all that much, just a half-notch above the complete silence they’d come to expect as one woman talked to another in a whisper. By the time the line formed outside, to Denver’s amazement, every member of the kitchen staff beamed, finally in the know.
Dinner was quick that evening—peanut butter sandwiches and applesauce—because everyone’s attendance was required at the five o’clock meeting. Denver and the other kitchen workers hung their aprons on their designated hooks after cleanup and walked to the meeting house in a cluster.
Samara was sitting near the front of the crowd, and when she saw Denver walk in, she tried to mouth something to her, but Denver couldn’t make it out without her contacts. Danovan walked to Samara and pointed at her chair. Samara gave Denver one last solemn look and sat.
Karale walked to the front of the room and onto the small stage. She raised her hands in the air, presumably to stop the chatter, but no one was chatting. She rolled her shoulders back. “Good evening! Thank you for coming. Tonight, we have an announcement. We’ve been lucky about the snow so far—it hasn’t stuck to the ground, but there’s always a chance it might. If this happens, we’ll be stranded wherever we happen to be, as it’s not worth the risk to create footprints. Currently, we have no one free to sweep them away after everyone who wants a little stroll!” She chortled in her throat, and Tommy and Danovan followed suit. “But seriously, we have a plan that will keep us all safer. Tonight, we’ll begin a day-flip. We’ll all wake up at midnight, and go to bed again when the sun rises. Going forward, we’ll all pull the night shift until spring. Then, when there’s no more chance of snow, we’ll go back. This will make us all safer. Does anyone have any questions?”
Silence.
“Good! Now, speaking of safety—I don’t want to alarm anyone, but there was a serious safety breach this morning.”
She paused for a buzz and got one. People looked from face to face, whispering low. Karale held her hands up again.
“One of our own decided he wasn’t satisfied with our meals that the hard-working kitchen staff provide us, so he went out in search of his own meal and very nearly ran into a Metrics official.”
“Show ’em who it was!” called Danovan.
Denver’s stomach dropped.
Tommy stood up and pulled someone up from the ground—Bristol, with a swollen lip and two black eyes, who struggled against Tommy as he shoved him onto the stage. People in the room began to gasp. Karale glared at him and took a tiny step away.
“Admit it,” she said to him. “Admit that you put this entire community in danger with your selfishness.”
Bristol croaked something, but Denver couldn’t hear him. From the reaction of the first few rows, it was a confession. Denver’s feet found the floor and she was halfway up before she realized what she was doing. No, she thought. Sit down. Karale was still rambling on about the dangers of selfishness and the consequences they could have faced if the leaders hadn’t had the presence of mind to notice he was missing and heroically search for him.
A horrible thought hit Denver: What if they know? What if they were trying to instill some co
nfidence in their abilities to keep the monastery safe? Maybe no one would show up to the secret meeting. Maybe they’d be too afraid.
“Denver Ray!” Karale nearly screamed, scanning the hall.
The woman next to Denver nudged her. “They want you to stand up.”
Slowly, Denver stood.
“Here’s our solution. Many of you don’t know this, but Bristol here is Denver’s brother. And Denver and her husband have put all of us in a different sort of danger: Denver is pregnant!”
Despite the atmosphere of fear, at the word “pregnant,” applause broke out throughout the meeting house. Denver almost laughed, but forced the corners of her mouth down when she saw Karale’s face.
“No! No!” Karale said. “Think about it! How can we be safe with a child around? The baby might delay our move! How would you like that? All this waiting and then having to wait more long months for a baby to make the trip with us?”
Silence again.
“We’ve given Bristol a choice. Either he can leave, or, when his sister’s baby is born, it can.” She turned again to Bristol. “What’ll it be?”
“Me.” Bristol’s voice was booming and deep now.
“And when are you leaving, Bristol?” Karale’s tone was taunting; this had obviously been discussed before.
“Now.”
“No!” cried Denver. “They’ll just take my baby anyway!”
Again, the hall came alive with whispers and murmurs.
Karale repeated “no” in little staccato punches, but Danovan, still on his chair, bellowed in a voice much too loud, “Quiet!”
He cleared his throat and looked at Denver. “You have our word. We make it to you in front of this entire assembly. You and your baby can stay together if your brother leaves.”
His choice of words was not lost on Denver. Can stay together, not can stay at St. Mary’s. She looked at Bristol, and then at Samara, who shook her head slightly. Denver sat down.
Karale turned back to Bristol. “If you want your sister and her baby to stay safe, you will not reveal our location to anyone unfortunate enough to meet you out there.” She pointed to the door. “Now leave.”
Tommy opened the door on the far side of the room, next to the stage. Danovan took Bristol by the back of his shirt and shoved him out. An icy blast swept into the room, and there was a collective shiver.
“Let’s give him twenty minutes,” said Karale, “and then we’ll all get to sleep.”
Chapter Eleven
Please, prayed Samara. Please let him remember.
They’d only talked it through once, the day they found this place. If, for whatever reason, one of them was in danger or they got separated, the little group—Bristol, Samara, Denver, Stephen, and Jude—would all meet up together on the side of the road where the car that drove them here first stopped. But Bristol’s memory wasn’t great, and it had been so long since they made that plan that Samara wasn’t sure if it would work. Images of Bristol flashed in her head—Bristol being caught and beaten, Bristol alone and in the cold, Bristol lying face-down on the forest floor…
A tightening sensation seized Samara’s lungs. She struggled to fill up with air, but her body refused to obey. She closed her eyes tight. Heat filled her, starting as a fire in the pit of her belly and spread into her limbs and face. She still couldn’t breathe.
A pair of hands grasped her shoulders and led her onto the floor. Grateful for the wide surface, she crumpled and felt the cooler air on her face. She opened her mouth wide and drew in a breath. Better.
“A panic attack,” a woman said from somewhere above her. “She needs to go to the infirmary.”
The next voice she recognized as Taye’s. “I’ll take her.”
Samara had a vague idea of protesting—she already felt better now that she could breathe—but Taye lifted her off the floor anyway and carried her out. Samara thought of Bristol turning back and having this be his last sight as he walked away. She thought of Denver watching from her chair in the back row. She wanted to say no and put her feet on the floor, but all of her energy was spent on breathing.
When they got to the infirmary, the little woman introduced herself as Nurse Sue and gave her bottle of water. While she was drinking, the nurse cleaned her arm and stuck a needle in before Samara knew what was happening. Samara sprang up into a fierce stance.
“What was that?” asked Samara.
“You had a panic attack, honey,” said Nurse Sue. “It’s no wonder. That poor boy…”
“Not that. What was in that?” Samara pointed to the syringe.
“This? It’s just something to help you sleep. You can stay in here tonight. You both can, if you’d like.” She nodded to Taye.
Samara had forgotten he was there. “He’s not…we’re not together.”
“I can still stay with you and the nurse, just in case you need anything.” Taye stood and took a step toward her.
Samara growled under her breath. “If I find out had you anything with this. Do. If I out find…” The first few words came out fine, but the others were slurred and unrecognizable, even to Samara’s ears. “You..you…”
Nurse Sue nodded sympathetically and turned down the covers. She leaned down and whispered close to Samara’s face, “If he’s bothering you, he’s out. Is he bothering you, honey?” Samara used her remaining presence of mind to nod. Taye left. Samara closed her eyes and heard the door shut. Nurse Sue still whispered, even though they were alone. “I’ll stay with you here. Don’t worry; someone’s coming to tell me about the meeting later. We’ll stay in the loop, you and me. You can sleep.”
Samara closed her eyes but fought sleep until the light was off. Then she opened her eyes as wide as physically possible and fought more until she heard Nurse Sue’s breathing change. By that time, the clock on the shelf said 10:50. No longer able to be stealthy, Samara tumbled out of bed and lumbered to the door. Nurse Sue stirred but didn’t wake, as far as Samara could tell. She made her way to the meeting house, wondering all the way whether or not she should turn back. Was she being too loud? She felt she might slump over at any moment and spend the rest of the night on the ground. No. I’m going. She put her chin down and stomped, one slow foot in front of the other, all the way to the meeting house door.
Stephen was there at the door. “Oh my God,” he said when he saw her. “Den? Help me with Samara.”
Denver rushed over. She and Stephen took both of Samara’s arms and led her onto a chair, where she slumped over her legs, breathing heavily. Samara tried to tell them about her injection, but the words, directed at the floor, were still unrecognizable.
Denver propped her up and sat next to her so Samara could lean on her shoulder. “They must have given her something. What are we going to tell these people? She was the one with the plan.”
Stephen licked his lips and looked around. “You’ll just have to wing it.”
Denver looked incredulous. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Everyone knows you’re pregnant now, and pregnant women are equal parts vulnerable and ferocious. They’ll listen to you.”
Samara silently agreed, even a little grateful that she didn’t have to confess to having no plan. As far as she could tell, Denver was all ferocity and no vulnerability anyway.
When Samara woke again, she was back in the infirmary. The curtains on the windows were backlit with morning sunshine, though the air outside her blanket still felt chilly. Jude was there, leaned over a table where a thick book lay open. Samara sat up in bed, pleasantly surprised that she could still do so. Jude brightened.
“Hi, Miss Shepherd.”
“Hi, Jude. What happened?”
As Jude’s cheeks rose, so did his glasses and the top of his head with them. “We did it.”
Samara closed her eyes to silently thank the universe. Jude continued, “I wasn’t there, though. I just got back from the watch. But Denver asked me to tell her when you woke up.” He scrambled up and out the door, leaving Samara alone with her
wild curiosity and worries. What did he mean, exactly? Where was Bristol? Where were the leaders?
Denver walked in, followed closely by Stephen and Jude. Jude still wore his jubilant grin, but Denver and Stephen looked older and more tired than when she saw them last. Samara pelted them with her questions.
Denver simply sat on Samara’s bed. “Move over,” she commanded, and flopped down beside her like a rag doll. Samara, momentarily overwhelmed, looked from Denver to Stephen. Stephen threw up his hands and sat on the bed with them both.
“I don’t know how much you remember,” he said to Samara.
“Practically nothing.”
“Well, Denver was great.” He gave his wife’s leg a little rub. “Right away, she got on stage but didn’t like how that looked—like she was putting herself up as the new leader or something—so she stepped back down and asked everyone to put their chairs in a circle. To be honest, I thought it was a waste of time at first, since we only had fifty-five minutes at that point, but people did it quickly and the tone in the room changed after that, once people could see each other’s faces. Then Denver said, ‘The reason we’re all here is because we have questions for the leaders, or we feel like we just need a new form of leadership. Which is it?’ And people started raising two fingers in the air, like it was the second thing she said. And she just nodded and gave some options.”
As grateful as Samara was that the meeting had gone well, she felt jealousy creeping in. Why hadn’t she thought through this herself? “What were the options?”
“One, we could hold an election for one new leader. Just one person to make decisions for all of us. Two, we could elect representatives from each dorm to meet several times a week to strategize, then meet weekly with the big group to update us on the move to Canada. Three, we could talk to the current leaders to tell them that we need to know exactly what their ties are on the outside and strike on our work assignments until they agree to keep us better informed.”
“What did they choose?”
