After the sheriff leaves, my mom grills me for over an hour. She wants to know what he said and then what I said verbatim. I decide not to tell her about his last two questions. I’ll wait and tell her when my dad comes back instead. She can’t do anything about it now anyway—except freak out, and that’ll only make us look weirder.
She relaxes some after she’s satisfied that most of what he wanted to know had nothing to do with Mandrodage Meadows, but she doesn’t leave the room again. She’s convinced that the nurses know where we’re from and are whispering about us.
“I can’t wait to be back home. I absolutely hate being stuck out here. With them.” She wrinkles her nose like the whole place and everyone in it stinks.
“We will be tomorrow,” I say.
“Well, tomorrow can’t come quickly enough.” She sighs and goes to the window. “I won’t be able to relax properly until we’re halfway home.”
The afternoon lingers forever. There’s nothing to do, so I make myself sleep a little even though it’ll mean being awake longer later. I can’t stand watching my mom pace and sigh and pace and sigh. I find myself wishing she’d just leave for a while. It’d be easier to pass the time without her hovering. And besides, the sheriff, the sound of traffic outside my window, the chatter of strangers down the hall, remind me too much of New York. Karen and all that happened back then feel too close here somehow. In Mandrodage Meadows we can keep our memories away, leave them outside the gate, but not here. Here we can’t avoid them. They snake around us, squeezing the air out of the room, making it impossible to really forget.
When they bring Mom and me a tray of food around dinnertime, I practically jump out of bed to meet them. Eating will give us something to focus on, something to do. We eat slowly, pretending to savor the tasteless meat loaf and mashed potatoes. I scrape my Jell-O cup until I can’t tell what flavor it was anymore. The cup’s completely clean. Mom plays with hers, pulling the spoon in and out like the sucking sound it makes fascinates or repulses her.
“Disgusting,” she mutters before sliding the tray away.
We haven’t talked much for hours. Mom’s concerned about eavesdroppers. The magazines and book under my mattress are making me feel edgy. I want to shove them farther under. Every time my mom leans forward in her chair, I wonder if she’s spotted a bit of paper poking out. It’s excruciating.
Eventually Mom gives up trying to stay awake and fiddles with her chair until it slides out into a very narrow, very hard-looking bed. She starts spreading out the sheets the nurses gave her. I am nowhere near tired after my long afternoon nap, but I fake a yawn anyway. I’d rather sit in the dark and listen to her sleep than sit around and have to stare at her or play hangman one more time.
Just as we’re turning out the lights—at the uncharacteristically early hour of seven—a nurse pops her head into the room. She’s really young and pretty, completely opposite all of the other nurses I’ve seen today. Her hair reminds me a little of Cody’s. It’s the same medley of browns that his is. She smiles at me and winks, which surprises me. Honestly, it’s a little weird.
“Sorry to bother you ladies, but I need to take”—she makes a big show of checking the clipboard in her hands—“Lyla down for a few more tests.”
My mom starts to stand up.
“No need to get up, ma’am. I’ll just take her for a little while. And you can’t really go with her to the testing room anyway. We’re taking a few more X-rays.” She smiles at my mom. “Get some rest; I’ll come get you if we need you.” She leans back against the door until it opens all the way and rolls a wheelchair inside.
“Can’t I just walk?” I complain.
“ ’Fraid not, hospital policy,” she says. She helps peel back my covers and I exhale heavily, but settle into the chair. I had X-rays earlier and the process was pretty tedious, but it’s better than staring at the ceiling.
“Okay, let’s roll.” I smile at my own pun, but no one else seems to get or notice it.
Mom looks like she’s about to tag along anyway, but then stops herself. It has to be because she thinks it’ll look odd if she goes. She perches on the edge of the chair-bed. Her posture is so rigid that it looks unnatural.
“Relax, Mom, I’ll be right back. I’m fine, the X-rays will prove it.” I want the nurse to think her odd behavior is a direct result of worry and not paranoia.
Once we’re in the hallway, the nurse leans down by my ear. “Ready for a little adventure?”
I turn back to look at her. “What?”
“Cody sent me. I’m his sister, Taylor.” She bounces a little on her toes as she talks. It makes her seem even younger.
“You aren’t really a nurse, are you?” I ask.
“Um, technically, no. But I am planning on studying to be one and I do work here part-time … just not as a nurse.”
I look at the nurses’ station. For the moment no one’s there.
“I waited until the coast was clear,” Taylor tells me proudly. “We can’t have anyone wondering where we’re going, now can we?”
My stomach starts to turn rapid somersaults. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere a little more private,” Taylor says.
Cody wants to see me. He sent his sister in to basically kidnap me so he could. I should stop her, jump out of the chair, and turn around. His dad’s the sheriff. He’s too close to the one person who could spell big trouble for my family and the rest of the Community. But his face flashes across my brain and I can’t make myself get up and turn around.
Taylor’s still chattering on and on. “You’ve done a real number on my brother, you know? He’s been hanging out here all day begging me to help him see you. He promised to do my chores for the next month if I managed to get you out of your room and away from your mom.” She pauses. “Is it true—are you one of those people that live way out on the prairie in that commune-type place?”
I nod.
“Wow, that’s weir … I mean different.” She hesitates a little and seems to consider her next words carefully. “So, what’s the story? Why isolate yourselves all the way out there?”
I give her the usual spiel about how we want to live simply.
“So you’re, like, kind of Amish?”
“What?”
“You know, the people with the horses and buggies that dress all old-fashioned and won’t use electricity or technology. They think it’s evil or something. Do you?”
I shake my head. “Um, no, we don’t. We came here in a truck. And I usually wear jeans or shorts. And we like electricity. A lot.”
She shrugs. “So then you’re not like a cult or something?”
That’s the second time one of them has used that word. Pioneer has always said that they would. He says any religious or political group—any group at all where people are passionate about something—is considered one. He says it’s because people who lack passion and commitment can’t understand those who have it. No matter what we say, they won’t change their minds. And if we’re not careful, they’ll see it as a reason to persecute us.
“Absolutely not,” I say as mildly as I can because it’s the response I’ve been taught, but I’m still irritated by the question. What does it matter to her either way? We’re not hurting anybody, at least not those who leave us alone. In fact, the only people who seem intent on hurting someone are the people here and places like it—first with their words, like right now, and later with their weapons—or cars. It seems Pioneer is right about that.
We roll down the halls in silence for a moment. I concentrate on my hands, which are in my lap.
“I’m sorry, that was a pretty rude question. Sometimes my mouth goes off before my head can censor it. I was just curious.”
“Really, there’s nothing to be curious about,” I say.
“That’s not what my dad says.”
My heart just about stops. She’s confirmed what I already suspected. The sheriff isn’t just going to forget about us.
We stop in front of an elevator and get on once it opens.
“We’re almost there,” Taylor says as she presses the button for the ninth floor.
It’s only now that it dawns on me that I’m wearing a hospital gown … and nothing much else. “Um, but my clothes. I can’t see your brother looking like this.”
Taylor bursts out laughing. “Oh, man, sorry, I almost forgot.” She hits the elevator’s stop button and starts pulling off the scrubs she’s wearing. She doesn’t even flinch when the elevator starts buzzing at us.
“Whoa, I didn’t mean you needed to give me your clothes.” I hold up a hand to stop her, but she’s already shimmied out of everything. She has on a pair of very tight stretch pants and a long T-shirt.
“No problem, they weren’t mine anyway. I borrowed them from the locker room.” She holds the clothes out to me. I recoil. The last thing I need is to be caught with stolen clothes.
Taylor sighs. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist. They belong to a friend. Trust me, she won’t care. She lives for this forbidden-romantic-interlude kind of Shakespearean crap. And I live for less chores, so hurry up and change so we can get you to my brother and make everybody happy.”
I can feel myself blushing. Is that what I’m about to do? Have a romantic interlude? It sounds medieval … and scarily exciting. I pull on the scrubs and stand next to her. I can’t sit in the chair anymore, I’m too nervous. I’m swaying a little, and the elevator feels like it’s moving side to side now, but I manage to keep my balance. Taylor starts the elevator back up again and we ride the rest of the way in silence.
When the doors open, we walk out into a completely deserted hallway. It smells new, like sawdust and fresh paint.
“This floor just got remodeled. No one’s using it yet. It doesn’t reopen until next week, which means you guys will have it all to yourselves.” She grins at me.
She leads me down to the end of the hallway and into a room with a bunch of hard sofas and chairs on one side and a row of vending machines and a small kitchenette on the other. Cody’s on one of the sofas. He stands up and grins. “Told you I’d find a way to see you again.”
Taylor rolls her eyes. “Yes, you’re the king of smooth, little brother. You have one hour. Don’t waste it. Bring her down to five when you’re done—and don’t be late. I have a date of my own tonight.”
A date. Her words only add to my nervousness. I can’t have a date, not with him or anyone else. I’m intended. I’m Will’s. I don’t move from the doorway. I put a hand on the frame and try to make myself go, but then Cody’s grinning at me again and I’m letting him lead me farther into the room. What is it about this boy that makes me put aside all common sense?
“Sorry I had to have my sister come get you, but I couldn’t really come myself. Something tells me your mom would’ve freaked out.” He motions for me to sit down on one of the pea-green sofas. I sit at the very edge and watch as he settles down beside me. It’s so quiet for a moment that the silence almost seems to become a solid thing between us, but then my stomach growls out of nowhere. Loudly. I put my hands around it and cringe.
“Hungry?” Cody chuckles, and then jumps back up and walks over to the vending machines. I notice that one of them has a familiar design on it. The same one that’s on the Coke cans from Marie’s little party the other night. Coke. Yum.
“Um, I’d love a Coke,” I say shyly.
He slips some coins into the Coke machine and then a few more into another one. Then he stoops over and collects my snack and spreads it out on the thin wooden table in front of me. I examine the little bag there. “Cheetos?”
Cody plucks it from my fingers and pulls it open. “Yeah.”
When I don’t react, he gapes at me. “You’ve never had them, have you?”
I shake my head.
“Well then, you’re in for a treat. They are by far my favorite junk food.”
I peer into the bag at what look like orange-coated caveman clubs. They don’t look like they should be edible. They look sort of disgusting. I wrinkle up my nose.
“Hey, don’t knock ’em till you try ’em,” Cody says. “Allow me to educate you in the fine art of snacking.”
“I didn’t realize there was any art involved in eating.” I can’t help smiling at him. He makes me feel happy for no particular reason. It’s a little like when I’m with Will, only so much better. It starts to dawn on me that this is what it feels like to really like someone. This is how I should feel about Will, but don’t. It’s Cody I want, and no amount of rationalizing will change that. Whatever this is isn’t rational at all—it’s crazy, stupid, reckless … and somehow perfectly right.
“Snacking I get, but this …” I pick up a single Cheeto and dangle it in front of my face. “I don’t know what this is.”
Cody chuckles. “It’s food … in the loosest sense of the word. It’s horrible for you and has absolutely no redeeming qualities except that it tastes good. Once you have one, you’ll want another, trust me.”
He’s basically describing my reaction to him. He’s my Cheeto—bad for me, but now that I have a taste for him, I can’t leave him alone.
“What?” He smiles at me.
“Nothing,” I say, and pop a Cheeto into my mouth. If I’m going to destroy myself, I might as well do it thoroughly.
Cody watches me. “Good?”
I think about it. “Yeah, it kinda is.”
He grins and then dips his hand into the bag, pulls out a handful. I shake my head and pick up the Coke. I take a big, long sip and sigh. It’s cold, which makes it even better this time. I think I’m in love with this drink. It is the one thing I wish like crazy I could smuggle back with me by the truckload.
“Wow, you’re like a soda junkie,” Cody says, his eyes wide, and I laugh so hard that some of the soda fizzes into my nose and makes it burn. My eyes water. Jeez, what is my deal with getting soda up my nose? I seriously need to be careful when I’m drinking this stuff.
“You make junk food seem new and sort of fascinating,” Cody says softly. “Does it ever bother you that there’s so much that you’ve never experienced?”
I lean back against the stiff sofa. My answer comes out in a rush. “I can’t really be bothered by something if I don’t know that it exists. I like where I live and how I live. The smaller your world is, the safer it is, you know? I may not know about every kind of junk food or movie or book, but I don’t have to worry about someone taking someone that I love, or eating something that might ultimately kill me, or wondering every morning if someone will come to my school with a gun and shoot me or my friends, or if a group of terrorists will come and blow up the building where my parents work. The world can be a pretty scary place to live. It’s a lot less scary when there isn’t so much of it open to you.” It’s the closest I’ll come to telling him about Karen or how we came to be in Mandrodage Meadows.
He nods slowly. “I guess I see what you’re saying … but those things don’t happen all the time to everybody. And I don’t see how being somewhere smaller and more controlled keeps you from trouble. If anything, it gives you less room to run. Eventually everybody has to deal with something unpleasant. I don’t think hiding away from those things means that they won’t find you.”
I don’t know what to say to this. My cheeks burn. Maybe I’m not explaining myself right, because what he’s saying makes a sort of sense and now I’m looking at what I said in a different light. I shake my head, try to organize my thoughts so I can make him see what I do. But in order to answer him fully, I’d have to tell him exactly why we’re out in the middle of nowhere. I’d have to tell him about the end of the world. I want to—a lot—but it’s not my secret to tell, at least not wholly.
“Can we talk about something else?” I ask.
“Can I ask you just one more thing? Then I promise we can talk about something else? You can even ask me something uncomfortable … like whether I wear boxers or briefs.”
I can’t help smiling. “You’re assuming that I’m interested in the answer to that question.”
Cody smiles back. “I’m not assuming anything. I know.”
I roll my eyes and he laughs.
“Okay,” he says, “last question. Who decides what you can and can’t have where you live?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, does that Pioneer guy make all the rules or do you all get a say?”
“I … I mean we … I guess Pioneer decides, but we put him in charge.” I bite my lip. I feel like I’m walking into a trap.
“So what happens if you disagree with him?”
“Hey, I don’t have to answer that one. You said only one question more and then it was my turn,” I remind him. I don’t like where his questions are headed. It’s like he’s trying to say something’s wrong with the way we do things. But how would he know? He doesn’t really know me or Pioneer or any of us. “I mean, maybe we could decide more things on our own, but I’m not sure why it’s so important. Pioneer’s always done right by us … or at least tried.”
“But what if he’s wrong?”
I exhale slowly. This is not what I thought we’d be talking about. I’m not sure what exactly I was hoping for … maybe kissing, which goes to show where my head was at when I agreed to this whole thing. “He never is.” I try not to let the creeping doubt that his questions are creating overcome me. This conversation is starting to feel dangerous.
“Everyone’s wrong sometimes,” Cody says, his eyes watching me a little too closely.
“Well, he isn’t.”
His questions are getting under my skin now, simultaneously frustrating and irritating me.
“How do you know? If he only exposes you to what he wants to, how do you know?” he presses.
I shrug my shoulders. I want this conversation to end. Now. “We just do. He’s always been honest with us, even when it’s about something unpleasant.”
“Oh? So you know he’s been in jail before, then?”
I recoil. “You’re lying. Why would you say that?”
“You didn’t know, did you? My dad’s been doing some checking. Turns out he beat a man almost to death once. A man he used to work with.”
I fold my arms and try to look like this bit of information doesn’t shock me. Why didn’t Pioneer tell us this? We have no secrets this big that we’ve kept from him. “Well … that was a long time ago. He’s never done anything like that since I’ve known him.” I push away thoughts of my punishment for sneaking out. I fight the urge to rub the bandage at the back of my neck. That was different. Not the same thing at all. I deserved it. He didn’t want to have to punish us that harshly … did he?
“Maybe he had a good reason to do it,” I say.
Cody shakes his head sadly. “He almost killed him. Is there any reason that’s good enough to keep beating a man who isn’t fighting back?”
I barely have time to process this before he starts talking again. “He was a gas station attendant back then. He dropped out of high school. Never kept a job for more than a year or two. So how does a guy like that end up in charge of twenty-some families? And why would he want to move you all to the middle of nowhere? You have to admit, it looks strange, Lyla.”
I can’t process all that he’s said. It’s too much. He’s made Pioneer a stranger and I don’t like it. This isn’t the Pioneer that took me in and kept me safe or the man who gave me Indy. This man Cody’s talking about sounds like a monster, and I can’t reconcile my version of Pioneer with his. I need to get out of this room. I need some room to breathe.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I snap, and my head starts pounding. I don’t feel very good all of a sudden. “I want to go back now.” I stand up so suddenly that I get dizzy again. I lean over to grab the table in front of me and knock over my Coke instead.
Cody grabs some paper towels from the countertop and starts wiping it up. “I’m sorry. This is not how I wanted this to go at all.” His eyes move up to mine. He gives me a weak smile.
“Well, that makes two of us,” I say.
He shakes his head slowly. “It’s just … I like you. A lot, actually. And once you leave here, I probably won’t see you again for a while … if ever.”
He has no idea how true this statement is. It makes me a little sad all of a sudden and softens my anger.
“Basically, one guy is making my seeing you impossible and I just don’t get it.” He stands up so that he’s looking down at me. Our bodies are almost touching. “And when my dad told me about his record and that gash on your neck … it worried me. I just feel like you need protecting or something.”
“The neck thing was my fault,” I say defensively. “I did something I shouldn’t have.”
“But, see, that doesn’t make me feel any better, especially if it was some kind of punishment or something.”
“But none of this has anything to do with you. I’m not asking you to look out for me. I’m fine, really. The Community and Pioneer are all I need.” I stare up at him and try to look like I mean what I say. He doesn’t move; he just stays so close that I can feel our body heat mingling between us. Then he inches a little closer. “Why are you here then, Lyla?”
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come. I want to lean in, touch his lips with my own, feel the rough scruff on his chin with my hand. But I make myself move away. “I’m here because I was in an accident,” I say.
“That’s not what I meant.”
I bite my lip and work to keep my expression neutral, distant. I can’t let him get any closer to me. I’ve been fooling myself. I shouldn’t spend this time with him, no matter how brief it is. He’s got too many questions that I can’t answer, and so does his dad. I’m only making things worse by being here. “I know what you meant,” I say. “I made a mistake.”
“I don’t think you believe that, not really,” he says softly. He moves forward. When I try to back away, I bump right into the wall behind me. Cody moves one hand up to my face and gently traces my jawline with his fingers. My skin feels like it’s fizzing. Dozens of tiny goose bumps erupt on my arms. My mistake was thinking that I could just turn off my feelings for him and walk away. I can’t. I like him. Right or wrong. Dangerous or not. His questions—his dad’s—aren’t enough to make it stop.
He leans in a little closer and his lips touch mine. It’s a quick, barely there kiss, but it’s enough. I smile against his mouth. I never imagined it could feel like this. God help me, but I can almost understand why those girls on the romance books swoon. My knees really do feel weak.
“I just want to make sure that you’re safe, Lyla,” he whispers.
He wants to make sure that I’m safe.
In a few weeks he’ll be dead or dying—and I know it. I’m keeping his future a secret, not allowing him even the smallest chance to survive. Cody doesn’t deserve to die. He’s not evil. I’m sure of it. He’s nothing like the man who took Karen. He deserves to live. I want him to live. How can we be so sure that the Brethren didn’t choose Cody too? Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to him.
If what Cody says is true, Pioneer beat a man almost to death and still became the Brethren’s prophet. If he gets a shot at redemption, why can’t Cody or Taylor or any of the other people I’ve met today? So, what do I do?
It takes me less than a second to decide. “There’s something I need to tell you.…”
Cody and I sit back down on the sofa. I tell him about the impending reversal in the earth’s rotation, about the Brethren, Pioneer’s visions, all of it. I even explain how Pioneer found my family and how he’s helped us. I want him to see that at his core, Pioneer’s a good man and that we aren’t strange, we’re just surviving.
It’s odd—saying it out loud. I don’t know if I’m making it sound right. Coming from Pioneer, it sounded so much better. I need to make him believe, but he doesn’t look as concerned as I thought he’d be. I try to think of another way to word it so I’ll get a better reaction than this one, but I can’t think of any. If he could only listen to Pioneer, he’d see, he’d understand.
Cody doesn’t say anything for a long time. I expected him to argue now or maybe to laugh and tell me that I’m crazy. It’s what Pioneer said would happen if we told the Outsiders, but he doesn’t do any of these things. Instead he scoots closer to me and wraps his arms around me. I lean into his chest. “I’m sorry about your sister,” he finally says.
I look up at his face, examine it cautiously. Does he believe me? And if he does, what do we do now?
His eyes are dark, unreadable. “So, Pioneer’s the only one who’s had these … visions … of the, um, future?”
I nod.
“So how can you be so sure that he’s right?”
I blow out a breath. And there it is. He doesn’t really believe me. “Because there’s science to back it up … I mean, look at global warming. I think even you have to admit that all of the natural disasters that happened last week are a pretty good indicator.”
“What disasters?” Cody looks confused.
“Don’t you listen to the news? The earthquakes in Indonesia and Japan? The hurricane in New Orleans?”
Cody scratches his head. “Lyla, nothing like that happened last week. The last time there was an earthquake in Indonesia was years ago, same with New Orleans. The Japan one is more recent, but still, even it happened a while ago.… Did he tell you that they just happened?”
“You have to be mistaken.” I feel my world compressing, the air in the room becoming nonexistent. “These have to be new ones. They just happened last week. I watched it on the news.”
Cody shakes his head, looks at me with concern. “No, Lyla. They didn’t happen. Not last week. If all of those things happened in one week, we’d all still be talking about it. It’d be all over the news right now. I mean, on the news, did they ever mention what day it was?”
I try to think back. They must have. Pioneer wouldn’t deliberately show us something years out of date, would he? What would be the point?
“I can’t remember,” I admit.
“He showed you old footage, Lyla. It isn’t hard to do. He wants to keep you all in line and scared.” Cody walks to the other side of the room and rummages through a backpack there before pulling out something thin and black with a screen on one side. “He’s lying to all of you … and I can prove it.”