Astray (3 page)

“
Owning firearms is American, police brutality is not!
”

They seem to have their own chants too.

“Deluded—the bunch of them,” Cody says under his breath. “Dad didn’t open fire, their so-called victims did.”

I don’t know what to say to this. Part of me still has this knee-jerk need to defend my Community. We weren’t trying to hurt people. We were trying to protect ourselves. But then I think about our target practices, about the men destroying all of our animals—my horse Indy—before we went into the Silo, about Pioneer locking me in the Silo’s cell and murdering Marie, and I wish they’d raided us sooner. How long before I stop having to remind myself of all this? How long before I’ll be free?

There’s more movement by the hospital’s doors. I can see a group of people silhouetted behind the glass now.

It’s time.

The doors open wide one more time and a line of deputies comes out. The sheriff watches as they pass him and then he falls into step behind them. As they get closer, I
get my first glimpse of Pioneer. He’s in a wheelchair. His hair has gone from salt and pepper to almost completely white in only a few months. He’s thinner than he used to be, almost skeletal. It should make him look frail, but instead it makes him look fierce. His eyes are flashes of fire against the gray of his skin, which is stretched so tight across his face and neck that it makes him seem over-alert. He smiles when he sees Will and the others.

I study Pioneer’s chest. I can’t see the bandages underneath the blankets wrapped around him. I wish that I could. I shot him twice. In the chest. At close range. The bullets missed his heart by only millimeters. He should be dead. He should have died before he ever made it to the hospital. Every doctor and nurse said so. They wouldn’t come right out and call it a miracle, but I think sometimes even they wonder if it was. I want to see the wound, to place my fingers on it and feel the puckering skin and stitches. I need to prove to myself that he’s every bit as human as I am. But instead I’m trying to imagine the wounds, trying to see past the robe-like effect of the blankets that have him looking exactly like a prophet should.

“Pioneer!” A chorus of calls goes up from the reporters. I wish they wouldn’t call him that too.

Pioneer looks directly at the cameras. He smiles softly, almost shyly. He folds his hands in his lap and nods as if giving them the okay to ask him questions. His hands are cuffed. I hadn’t noticed at first. Pioneer fiddles with the metal around his wrists.

I watch as Cody’s dad tries to hurry Pioneer’s wheelchair forward. The wheel has caught on the sidewalk and they have to tilt the chair to maneuver it forward. I can tell by the set of the sheriff’s jaw that he wants this transfer over with.

“Pioneer!” a woman in a long black coat yells from beside a line of cameramen and deputies. “Your deadline for the end of the world passed over a month ago. What happened?” There’s laughter from the crowd now, mocking grins.

Pioneer’s smile slips just a little. It’s so slight a change that I’m not sure anyone else has noticed. He stares the woman down for a half second longer than is comfortable for her—or anyone else—before he speaks. “Precisely what should have happened.”

This isn’t the answer anyone was expecting, I think, because suddenly it’s quiet.

“The end began. The betrayal of one of my own, the raid, the deaths that followed, all of this was part of the Brethren’s plan.” He chuckles a little as if he can’t believe how stupid she is. “My family is about to face a time of great persecution. I’m about to be thrown in their jail. They’ve labeled all of us as crazy.” He turns so that he’s looking at my parents and the others. “So they can bury the truth with their lies. They’re trying to take me from you. They think it will make you weak. They think you’ll be easier to corrupt. The Brethren are letting it happen. They’re waiting to see what you’ll do. But I can see that
you still believe. I’ve all but risen from the dead, haven’t I? I’m a bona fide miracle.”

The sheriff starts rolling him forward again, but Pioneer plants both feet on the ground, stopping the chair. “Family, keep your faith in me! Cling to the truth. Don’t let them deceive you like they did our Little Owl.”

The sheriff and two deputies get in Pioneer’s face and yell at him to put his feet up. The Community presses closer to the deputies who are trying to keep a space between them and Pioneer. The deputies hold their ground, but barely. Most of the Community is crying and reaching for Pioneer. I see more than one of the deputies put their hands on their guns.

Cody puts his hand on my back. Around us people start jostling to the left, moving in toward Pioneer for a closer look. From somewhere behind me a woman protests loudly. “Hey! Stop pushing. Back up!”

“Don’t listen to the lies they feed you about me, brothers and sisters! Stay strong in your beliefs. Lean on one another.” Pioneer settles back into his chair as if he’s the one who’s decided that it’s time to move forward.

I’m closer to him now, pressed up against the deputy in front of me, my chin resting just above his outstretched arm. I didn’t mean to get this close, but the people behind me keep squishing me forward. Once again, the deputy yells at them to get back.

Without warning, Pioneer’s face swivels in my direction. He stares straight at me and I forget to breathe. I
can’t move. The whole world disappears and it’s just his face, those eyes staring directly into mine.

“Little Owl,” he says.

Oh, please, no
.

“Clear the path. Now!” the sheriff shouts, oblivious to what’s happening between Pioneer and me. I bite my lip and try to wiggle away from the deputy’s arm, try to find a way to blend back into the crowd before Pioneer can do anything.

“I see you, Lyla Hamilton! Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you? I’d know you anywhere, child,” Pioneer calls out, and I freeze. “I forgive you for what you did to me. Someday soon you will realize your error and I will take you back into the circle of my arms. You’re mine, Little Owl. It’s not too late to ask for my forgiveness. Your family won’t give up on you.
I
won’t give up on you. We love you and love never gives up.” His chair is moving forward now, but he’s turned slightly so he can keep looking at me.

The cameramen sweep their cameras across the crowd in an attempt to find me. The sheriff’s managed to keep my name out of the papers until now. I look over at him. He’s searching the crowd too, his face white with anger, his mouth pressed in a tight line.

This was a mistake. I need to leave. Right now
.

Pioneer raises both arms in my direction and opens his bound hands, palms up. He curls his fingers, motioning me forward, his face radiant with the promise of forgiveness.
The people around me follow the path his arms suggest and their eyes land on me.

“Is that her? The girl who shot him?”

“That’s not a guy.”

“He said ‘Little Owl.’ That’s what he called her, right?”

People are murmuring all around me.

I might not have been recognized after Pioneer called me out, but sometime between Pioneer mouthing my name and his speech I started whimpering.

“Lyla …,” someone calls from across the sidewalk. I don’t look over at my family and friends, but I can feel them staring at me.

The sheriff gives one grim look in my direction before he pushes Pioneer forward and barrels toward the waiting cavalcade of vehicles ready to escort Pioneer to the jail. The crowd around me starts to press in closer. I lean into Cody to keep from falling and he grabs my elbow and tries to move me so that he’s between me and most of the crowd. I can see some of the cameramen and reporters fighting at the edges, making their way over. The deputy in front of me tilts his head and listens to a voice coming from the black thing attached to his shoulder. He grabs my hand. “This way. Quick!”

He pulls me out onto the sidewalk where Pioneer just was. We head for the hospital at a run. Cody follows. From behind me I can hear my name being called, shouted from every direction like an accusation.

Believe in me and live. Those who don’t are surely lost and doomed to death.

—Pioneer

Once we’re safely inside the hospital, Cody wraps me in his arms. I bury my face in his chest. It’s only when several people walk by with raised eyebrows and one of them gives us the thumbs-up sign that I remember that I still look like a guy. I take a step away from Cody and pull off my beard. Cody’s face goes red all over as he helps me.

“What were you thinking?” the deputy who brought us in asks Cody. He’s breathing hard.

“Take it easy, Chad,” Cody says, but he looks rattled too.

“Yeah, well, your dad’s gonna hit the roof over this one.” Chad shakes his head. He puts his hands on his hips and walks to the doors to look out at the crowd. The vehicle that took Pioneer to jail is gone. It must have left as soon as we ran inside. But it seems as if the crowd outside hasn’t thinned at all. It’s like they’re waiting for something. Then it hits me. They’re waiting to see if I’ll come back
out. I can’t see Will or my parents, but I feel like they’re looking for me, studying the building.

The doors open again to let in another deputy. The sound of people singing follows him in. The tune is childlike and campfire-sing-along cheery, but it makes me shiver. We all fall silent at the same time and listen.

I don’t recognize the song, but I know they’re singing it for me.
Those words
. They seem to mean that I’m now doomed like Cody and the others because I’m out of the Community, but part of me wonders if they also mean something more, something even darker. The deputies look at each other and then over at me.

The doors finally shut, but not before I hear the song starting over. My whole body starts to shake. I hurry away from the doors and lean against the far wall, slide down it until I’m huddled on the floor. My head is swimming. Pioneer’s words—“
You’re mine, Little Owl
”—mix with the lyrics of the song—“
before your body goes cold
”—until they’re all I can think about. I was just starting to feel
okay. Being at Cody’s house, away from my parents and Pioneer and everyone else, had fooled me into thinking that I was stronger, that I might finally be figuring things out. Now the only thing I’m sure about is that Pioneer and the Community aren’t done with me yet.

Cody sits down next to me. “You all right?”

“Barely,” I mumble. I put my head on my knees and wrap my arms around my shins. I tap my feet against the linoleum and try to concentrate on the muffled thumping noise my shoes make as they strike the floor. “I thought seeing him … I … oh, what does it matter what I thought? This was stupid. It would have been smarter not to see him ever again. At all.”

“No, it would have been smarter to see him through binoculars from the other side of the parking lot while wearing earplugs.” Cody exhales. “I shouldn’t have brought you.… My bad entirely.” Cody picks at a piece of his own beard and balls it up between his fingers.

“All right, Steve’s gonna take you home.” Chad crouches down beside me. “He’s parked over in the emergency lot. There are a couple of us in the halls between here and there so it’s clear. We’ll get you out of here safe, Lyla.” He gives me a sympathetic look. It makes me want to cry.

“What about my car?” Cody asks.

Chad laughs loudly enough to make me jump. “Your dad said you won’t need it for a while.”

We’re going to be punished
. My stomach does a somersault.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this,” I say.

Cody stands up and offers me his hand. “I offered, remember?” He smiles, but there’s a trace of agitation in his face. I can’t tell if it’s anger or fear. What will his dad do to us when we get home? I know what my parents and Pioneer would do … or at least a close approximation.

I put one hand to my neck, feel the uneven scar beneath my hair. “I’ll tell your dad it was my idea.”

Cody chuckles. “Yeah, he’ll never buy that. He knows me too well.”

Together we walk the hospital corridors. Every time a door opens or I hear someone’s shoes clicking on the linoleum behind us, I jump. After all that just happened, I keep expecting Pioneer to pop up somehow, to find me. It’s crazy and yet I can’t shake the feeling that he can still see me. By the time we reach the last set of doors, my palms are clammy and my heart’s pounding in my chest.

“Don’t you two look … handsome.” An older man in uniform with a seriously large belly greets us as we walk back out into the cold. The parking lot here is full of cars, but there aren’t any people anywhere. I guess they’re all inside the emergency waiting room caught up in their own crises. It’s hard to believe that anything other than Pioneer’s transport happened this morning. It feels like everyone’s life should have stopped for it—maybe because mine did.

“Shut up, Steve.” Cody helps me into the back of the squad car, then looks at Steve. I can see his mouth curl
into a smile. “Uh, you got some chocolate on your pants there, dude.”

Steve’s face turns red. He looks down at the front of his pants: there’s a brown smudge just to the left of the pocket. I catch a glimpse of a brown and green wrapper sticking out of the pocket before he crumples it with his hand.

“Milky Ways before seven a.m.? Can’t be good for your diet,” Cody says as he ducks into the car beside me.

Steve slams the door without a word and walks around the car. I can hear him muttering to himself as he makes his way to the driver’s-side door. Halfway around the car he trips over something and almost falls. A string of words I’ve never been allowed to utter come pouring out of his mouth. Cody looks at me and we both start laughing. The fact that I can laugh after all that’s happened this morning surprises me, makes me laugh even harder. We try to stop when Steve opens the door, but it’s almost impossible. Steve starts up the car without turning around, without even acknowledging that we’re behind him, and takes off so quick he barks the tires against the blacktop, which sets us off all over again.