If your mind and heart are not meditating on my words and the commandments of the Brethren at all times, you’re setting yourself up for a fall.

—Pioneer

I follow my parents back to the truck. We eat a little lunch in the cab while we’re still in the Walmart parking lot. Usually we try to go to the park and eat outside, but my parents are anxious to get back on the road, so our last intown meal overlooks shopping carts and cars.

I’m not all that hungry, so I sketch instead. I start off sketching a bird that’s wandering around the parking lot, but before long I flip to a new page and start drawing Cody. I work on getting the shape of his chin right, the angle of his jaw. Maybe if I can get him on paper, I can flush him out of my system. I promise myself that I’ll throw this sketch out once I’m done with it. Then I’ll forget all about this morning and concentrate on the mornings that’ll come after this one, on all of the things big and small we still have to do before we go into the Silo.

By the time I’m done sketching, my parents have finished eating and are busy tidying up the truck. I feel a little better, more centered. I push Cody toward the back of my thoughts and nibble on a cheese sandwich as we stuff all our garbage into a plastic bag. Only a few more stops and this day, this town, will be a thing of the past as far as I’m concerned, no more than a dream.

We have to stop at the post office next and then the gas station before we leave town for good. My dad starts the truck and my mom hands me the bag of trash she’s gathered so I can throw it away. I hop out of the cab and walk the trash to the front entrance of the store. I watch the continuous stream of people coming out and begin to search for the trashcan.

I’ve just crossed the main thoroughfare between the parking lot and the front doors when Cody appears. The automatic doors slide open and there he is. I smile almost on reflex. I take a step forward, my hand already coming up to wave. Then I wonder if my parents are watching, if they see me doing the one thing I shouldn’t, and I turn around. I start to take a step back into the parking lot. I can throw our stuff out at the post office.

I have about a second to register sunlight glinting off something metal. There’s a flash of green. Something strikes my left side. Hard. My body flops against it. I realize with a detached sense of wonder that it’s a car. I walked in front of a moving car.

The world tilts. I’m falling. My butt smacks the asphalt. My hands scrape across loose gravel before my head snaps downward. There’s a strange cracking sound inside my head. I blink. Then I open my mouth to breathe, but my lungs won’t work. The car screeches to a halt a few feet away.

I’m flat on my back on the road. My shirt has ridden up and my lower back is burning, melting into the ground. I can’t move, can’t make myself get up. There’s noise and people all around me, but I can’t make sense of any of it. Then it’s as if the asphalt expands, wraps around me until there’s nothing more than blackness and the sound of my mother’s screams in my ears.

When I open my eyes next, there’s a ring of heads looming over me. I can’t make sense of their faces, can’t decide if I know any of them. My head hurts—enough so that I keep closing my eyes again to block out the colors and light. The flashes of movement around me feel as abrupt and disturbing as gunfire. My ears are ringing. I can still hear, but the noises are muffled. People are talking. None of it makes sense. I try to sit up, but hands hold me tight to the ground. It hurts to fight them off, so I stop trying. I lick my lips instead and try to speak.

“Sweetie, you have to stay very still for me.” My dad’s voice breaks through the haze in my head. He’s next to me, right by my shoulder. His face is all fear. It scares me.

“Car,” I manage to mumble. My eyes are either watery from the pain or I’m crying. I can’t tell which.

“Yes, we know. The ambulance is coming now.” My dad looks up and I follow his gaze. He’s staring at my mom. She’s leaning over my other side. My head clears a little. They’re scared because I have to go to the hospital. This is bad. It means unwanted attention for all of us. I struggle against my dad’s hands again. I have to get up. We have to leave before the ambulance actually gets here. We have to get back to Mandrodage Meadows.

“I’m all right,” I croak.

“No, sweetie, you’re not. You have to lie still.” Dad leans over, close to my ear, and whispers in it. “Don’t worry. We’ll handle the people at the hospital. The only thing that matters right now is that we make sure you’re okay.”

I look out at the crowd of people standing around us. Most are whispering to each other, their faces openly curious. Do they already know who we are? Where we’re from? I look for Cody. He was there. In the store. Right before I got hit. I don’t see him anywhere now, though.

Good.

At least he had enough sense not to get involved.

My mom smooths my hair and kisses my forehead. Her face goes from reassuring to crumply and half hysterical, then back again. She’s barely holding it together. I’ve made her face her worst fear all over again. I can see her reliving Karen’s disappearance as she looks down at me.

“I’ll be fine, Mom. I promise.” I try to smile, but wince instead. My head and neck are pounding.

My mom finally loses the battle and lets out one long wail just as the ambulance comes tearing through the parking lot, its siren mixing with her cry in a terrible duet.