Astray (21 page)

Beside me, Jack’s bent over furiously writing something down on a small pad of paper she’s balancing on her knee.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to write this down before I forget what I’m thinking right now. It’s going to make such an awesome article.”

I stop walking. “I thought you weren’t going to write about me.”

“I’m not, I’m writing about
him
.” She points her pencil at Jonathan, who’s halfway down the street now, headed for the van that he uses to pick Will and the others up from school. “He’s an angle I need to explore. What was up with the purchases? Random, right? And he couldn’t have been more creeptastic about it.”

“You know him?” I ask.

Jack smiles a little. “Um, not exactly. Did the basic digging already, but I don’t have much yet. Just that he’s ex-military and a recent convert to your Community. But give me a few days to dig around some more and I will.”

“Will you tell me what you find out?” I ask.

“Absolutely. Whatever you want to know.”

Jack and I get back to school in time for our last two classes. Will and the others are supposed to be in them with me, but their seats are empty. My eyes keep drifting to their spots, and I have trouble concentrating on the teacher as
he drones on and on about proofs and postulates. I wonder how long it’ll be before Mrs. Rosen shows up at the trailers to take them to foster homes. About halfway through the class period, a girl seated near me tugs at my shirt and leans over to whisper into my ear.

“They were sent home. The superintendent got called down here because of what they did to their hair. He suspended them from school.” Things seem to be unraveling so quickly now. I wonder if Pioneer will regret asking them to shave their heads once he hears, once they’re taken away.

As soon as the final school bell rings, I’m up and out of my seat and in the hall, looking for Cody. It doesn’t take me long to find him.

“I heard,” he says before I can open my mouth. He takes my book bag from my shoulder and puts his hand on my back. “Dad said things would get worse the closer we got to the trial. Still sure you want to be there tomorrow?”

“I have to,” I say. I have to hear what Pioneer says when the judge asks whether he’s guilty of the charges against him. When he opens his mouth to lie, I want him to see me in the crowd and know that whoever he sent to the house this morning failed to scare me away.

I feel a lot of relief and, um, joy that the end of this world is still coming. We all do.

—Julie Sturdges

When we pull up to the courthouse, I can see why the sheriff tried to convince me to stay home. The crowd standing outside is enormous. It’s like a bigger, scarier version of the one that surrounded the hospital at Pioneer’s transfer, and my palms start sweating as we search for a place to park. I’m squished in between Taylor and Cody, so I can’t get a clear picture of exactly how many people are outside, but I can hear them—people shouting, lots of bodies rushing past the car and toward the courthouse.

We have to park several blocks away. On the walk to the courthouse, Cody’s dad keeps his arm on mine and the rest of the family walks in front of or behind us. It feels like they’re trying to build a human wall around me.

The sidewalk is jammed with people. Their eyes are focused straight ahead on the people just past the stairs leading up to the building. My Community. Every single one of them is bald, their heads gleaming softly in the weak sunlight, their faces pale but smiling. It’s both scary
and weirdly comical. At first I can’t find my parents in the group. The absence of hair has made everyone look the same. They’re all in a line, holding hands and chanting. It sends a ripple of disquiet through the crowd. Everyone falls silent as the members of the Community get louder and louder, their voices sure and clear and strong. My insides feel like they’re literally shaking apart.

I finally find my parents. They’re at the center of the line, between Mr. and Mrs. Brown. Will is beside my father, along with his parents. None of them have seen me; in fact I’m not sure what they see, if they’re looking at anything at all. Their eyes have that weirdly blank detachment in them, what I realize now is their way of insulating themselves from the Outsiders. The sheriff tightens his grip on my arm and moves me away from the spectacle.

Off to one side of the Community are the Rangers. They aren’t chanting. Their arms are folded across their chests. They stare out at the crowd, and when I look to see what’s got their attention, I notice Mrs. Dickerson and a large crowd of other townspeople. She looks angrier than the last time I saw her, fired up by what happened at school the other day. Now that Will and the others are suspended, she’ll probably start working on kicking the whole Community out of town.

The sheriff and I begin weaving our way closer to the steps that lead up to the courthouse itself.

“Lyla! Lyla!” I turn in time to see that my parents are
looking right at me, calling for me, their arms outstretched. Will’s calling me too. And Heather. And Julie. Every one of them pleading for me to turn and join them. Their eyes aren’t as blank now, but they are needy and desperate-looking. For a moment I can’t move. It’s like they’ve got hold of one part of me and the sheriff and Cody have the other part and no one’s letting go.

Several of the reporters close in. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Taylor stand up a little straighter and position her body into the pose she’s forever practicing in the mirror, the one movie stars do when they’re on a red carpet. The sheriff frowns and nudges her forward.

We slip inside the courthouse before the reporters are able to catch up with us. A couple of minutes later and we’re through security, down a long hallway, and through a set of double doors into a large room filled with wooden benches all facing where the judge is supposed to sit. It reminds me of a church or the meeting room in the clubhouse back at Mandrodage Meadows. We settle into the benches behind what Cody explains is the prosecution’s side. The lawyers are already at the long table set up for them, whispering to one another and riffling through thick stacks of paper. On the other side of the room, Pioneer’s lawyer is busy setting his briefcase on another table. I watch his movements, his hands, his face. He seems calm, sure of himself. I wonder if this means he feels certain of Pioneer’s innocence or just confident in his ability to convince people of it.

The seats around us start to fill up as people trickle in. There’s still nearly half an hour before Pioneer’s scheduled to appear. I study every person as they walk inside, trying desperately to get my mind on something other than what’s about to happen. Cody sits on one side of me, his mom on my other side, and Taylor sits next to her. The sheriff’s not with us. He went out to talk with several people in the hallway, all of them in suits and important-looking. Cody’s mom has saved him a seat. I’ll breathe better, I think, once he’s in it.

Cody’s hand is cool in mine. My palms are clammy. It’s embarrassing, but I don’t let go. We don’t talk. I can’t think of anything to say, and even if I could, I’m not sure the words would come out.

“Hey.” Jack taps me on the shoulder before she slides into the seat behind me. “Did some digging on our friend. Turns out our Mr. Jonathan served two tours in Iraq with the army. He was honorably discharged a few years ago. He lived with his parents for a while after that and hasn’t held down a regular job for more than three months at a time. I found his Facebook account and he has lots of pictures up of him with the Rangers and a bunch of articles about Pioneer. He wrote a few about freedom of religion and how the raid on the Community was unconstitutional. He’s huge into the Second Amendment and goes to rallies supporting it pretty regularly.”

“Jeez, you found all that out on the computer?”

“Yep, scary how much you can find out about a person,
right? Hey, have you talked to Mrs. R at all since the diner?”

“No, why?”

“She just missed our appointment last night.” Jack settles back into her seat. “She’s usually on my case about forgetting, but this time I showed and she wasn’t there.”

My stomach does a barrel roll.
Is she already working on getting Will and the others away from the Community?

My parents and the others show up a few minutes later with Jonathan and two of the other Rangers. They take up the entire back row—both sides. Still, not all of the Community members are there. I don’t see Brian or his mom, Marie’s parents, or several others. I wonder if they chose to stay behind or if Mr. Brown ordered them to because he didn’t want them to hear the charges being read, to hear Marie’s name mentioned.

A door near the front of the room opens up and a woman hurries in, settling herself at a low desk just to the side of the judge’s seat. Just as she gets situated, Pioneer appears in the doorway, his hands shackled in front of him. He’s dressed in black pants and a white shirt with a thickly knotted blue tie lying down the length of his chest that matches the color of his eyes. It makes them seem even more icy and intense. The top of his head is covered in a fine fuzz of hair. He must not be able to keep it cleanly shaved. He shuffles forward slowly, his eyes roaming the room, growing brighter when he sees our Community, brighter still when he sees me.

He stares me down. Winks. He’s trying to unsettle me. I force myself not to look away, even though I really, really want to.

“Did you like my present yesterday, Little
Owl
?” he asks, before his lawyer nudges him to be quiet. Cody’s hand tightens on mine. Pioneer turns his attention forward just long enough to find his chair and sit down before he swivels around to look at me again.

“I wanted you to understand how much I still care,” he says.

I don’t want to be scared, but I am. My ears ring with the echoes of the shots I fired at him back in the stable on the day of the raid. For a second I’m almost positive that I can smell the burnt gunpowder in the air—like dirt and metal and a blown-out match.

He leans toward me, almost over the wooden barrier that separates him from the spectator benches. He waits half a beat before he grins, starts humming the song I heard him sing on the walkie-talkie. His lawyer leans over and pulls at his shoulder, tries to make him stop.

“You’re still mine, Little Owl,” he says without turning around.

I feel as if those five stupid words connect us, are fingers that burrow deep inside my chest just above my heart and squeeze. They have the power to stop my breath. I look back at my parents. They’re staring at me, small, almost tender smiles on their faces. They don’t seem to notice what Pioneer’s doing. I look at the others. The only person
who seems to have the faintest flicker of understanding is Mr. Brown, who looks pleased by what’s happening. He might not have killed the owl, but I’ll bet anything he knows who did.

I feel like the room is getting smaller, like the walls are moving in. My breaths are coming fast and shallow and my lungs feel tight. I grip Cody’s hand so hard that he makes a little sucking-in sound through his teeth. Still I can’t make myself stop squeezing. He doesn’t try to pull away even though I know he’s uncomfortable. Instead he puts his other hand on top of mine and gently strokes it. My fingers slowly start to relax.

“All rise …” A man in uniform begins to speak, and everyone in the room stands as a woman in a long black robe strides to the front of the room and takes her seat behind the judge’s bench. She’s talking and then the lawyers are, but I can’t concentrate on any of it. At one point Pioneer is asked to stand up and the judge reads over a list of charges.
First-degree murder … attempted second-degree murder …
 The words come to me in bits and pieces as if from a long distance, as if I’m underwater listening for them.

The judge looks at Pioneer. “Do you understand the charges that have been brought against you today?”

“I understand that I’m here today because the truth is something none of you want to face. Your own wickedness—”

“Mr. Cross! Answer yes or no only,” the judge says loudly.

“The truth will flow from my mouth until I am too weak to speak or dead. Punishment is coming to all of you—”

“Mr. Cross!” the judge practically shouts as the bailiffs begin to close in on Pioneer, their hands on their guns. He turns toward the rest of us.

“Pray and fast with me, brothers and sisters! Don’t poison yourself with their food and drink and lies! The end is near. Signs and wonders are coming. Keep your bodies pure and your minds clear.”

“Get him out of my courtroom. Now!” the judge bellows.

The bailiffs grab Pioneer. He struggles as they begin to pull him out of the room and yells at the judge. “You’ve had your chance to see the way. There will be consequences now. Wait and see! For all of you.” Pioneer’s face is manic, bright red from the struggling. The bailiffs hoist him toward the door. He gives me one last look and then he’s gone.

The people around us start whispering. Pioneer’s outburst was more excitement than they dared hope for, and now they’re celebrating it by rehashing it with one another. I look at the back row, where my parents and the others have bent their heads close together. Their mouths are moving, but so quietly that I can’t hear. I know what they’re doing, though. They’re praying. But is the prayer directed at Pioneer now or the Brethren?

The judge asks to see the lawyers in her chambers and
just like that it’s over and we’re filing out of the courtroom. The whole thing lasted less than fifteen minutes. I follow the others out, Pioneer’s words still ringing in my ears. He said bad things were coming. I know I shouldn’t believe him. That he can’t know that … and yet I feel as if somehow he’s going to make sure his words come true. But he’s only one man. A jailed man at that.
What can he possibly do?

Your jail won’t hold him. He will go free. Then you will realize who he is and you will be sorry.

—Mr. Brown

I leave the courthouse in a daze, stumbling down the steps, my eyes focused on the crowd still lingering outside—Brian and his mom, Marie’s parents, and the Rangers, as well as Mrs. Dickerson and her group, who are holding up protest signs now with
LEAVE CULVER CREEK
at the top. They think the Community’s evil. The Community thinks that they’re evil. Both sides are convinced that they’re the good ones.
So then why do I see such hate and anger on both sides?