Article 5

  There was no question in my mind now that the scream I’d heard when I’d been in the clinic had been Rosa in the shack. When I asked Rebecca about it, she remained vague. Spooky, she called it. That’s all. But I was frightened.

  In the days that followed, I did what I could to be inconspicuous. I was polite when forced into awkward social interactions with the staff and the girls, and I followed the rules. I didn’t show my frustration or pain when my clumsy, distended hands dropped things, or when I couldn’t close my fist to hold a pencil. I didn’t attract any attention, and in that way, I let Brock think that she’d won.

  But right under her nose I gathered things, like I had when my mother and I were at our worst during the War. A cup from the cafeteria when no one saw. A washcloth from the bathroom. I began hoarding nonperishable food beneath my mattress in preparation for my departure.

  And I found myself relying on Rebecca. Though she played the rehab queen whenever we were around others, she had obviously found a way to survive. Her deception recharged my hope.

  At night, we talked, and she became surprisingly open. Almost as if I were a confidante rather than someone who could cause her a great deal of trouble by exposing her secret. Through her lens, I began to see Sean in a new light. I began to notice the way he diverted Randolph’s attention from the girls and purposefully nodded his agreement when Brock lectured on something absurdly ridiculous, like appropriate ways for a Sister to talk to men.

  To my shock, I opened up some, too. I told her some of the things I missed about my mother. The popcorn and old, pre-War magazine nights. The songs we used to sing together. How we’d never really been apart. Rebecca liked those stories. I think it helped her understand my drive to escape.

  On the fifth night, I even told her about Chase.

  I don’t know why. Maybe because she loved a soldier, or maybe because I felt the need to reciprocate some private piece of my life to her. Maybe because not an hour passed without me asking myself why he did what he did. Whatever the reason, it slipped out of me. Not the details, not the depth of what I’d felt for him, but the basics of what had happened between us.

  “They’re not supposed to date. Not unless they’re officers,” she informed me when I said he hadn’t written. “They have to dedicate their life to the cause or something. It’s a form they sign when they enlist.”

  “Sean doesn’t seem to care.” I couldn’t hide the pettiness in my voice.

  She grinned, and it struck me how pretty she was. “Can you blame him?”

  We both laughed then. It was the first and only time we would.

  * * *

  ELEVEN days had passed at the reformatory with no word from my mother or Beth.

  On the eleventh night, I prepared to leave.

  “I’ll go out with you,” Rebecca said for the tenth time. She was pacing around the room. It was after midnight, but she was still wearing her full uniform.

  “No.” We had already talked about this. “Sean wants you here.”

  “I don’t care what he wants!” Her voice went impossibly higher. She was wringing her blouse between her fists. “I can’t do nothing while he’s risking his life for you!”

  The tension between us had been building steadily over the last few days. The reality of the plan was finally sinking in. Unconsciously, I traced the still-swollen welts over the backs of my hands and made a tender fist. The wounds had finally closed but were now painted with purple and yellow blossoms. They ached terribly, especially on cold nights like this one.

  “He’s just going to point me toward the perimeter fence and then pretend like he doesn’t see me,” I assured her—again. “He won’t be in danger.”

  Neither of us believed it.

  The minutes ticked by. One. After another. After another.

  I hadn’t been able to eat dinner. I’d been too nervous. But I’d hidden a cold baked potato with the rest of my supplies in Rebecca’s sweater, tied to my waist.

  “Okay, I’m going,” I finally said at twelve-thirty on the dot.

  She nodded, her face pale.

  “I guess … it was nice knowing you,” she said weakly. “Thanks for not telling Brock about me and Sean. And … don’t get shot.”

  I attempted a smile, but it didn’t work. I almost said that I hoped to see her again, or something similar, but I knew it wouldn’t happen in a million years. When she aged out, she and Sean were going to have to hide from the MM, and so were my mother and I. Instead I grabbed her shoulders, gave her a quick, awkward hug, and slid out the window.

  It was snowing outside, just like the night the girl had died of hypothermia, but I was prepared, layered in all the clothing they’d issued me: two skirts, a camisole, three long-sleeved T-shirts, and my gray sweater. And I had some food for fuel, close to my body.

  The ground was solid as a rock, and the cold leaked through my flats to the soles of my feet. The brick dorm building was covered with a thin layer of white. Long icicles hung from the rain gutters like jagged teeth.

  I glanced both ways across the lane before darting into the woods toward the generators. Sean would be there, ready to get this over with. I was ready, too.

  By the time I heard the steady drone of the machines, my muscles were warm and limber and my heart was pounding steadily. My stomach didn’t even hurt anymore; there was too much adrenaline building in my body to be bogged down by anxiety. I was glad. I needed whatever edge I could get.

  My hearing was sharper than normal, and my head snapped toward the sound of crackling twigs nearby. I froze automatically, fingernails digging into my palms. It took every ounce of effort to push Katelyn Meadows from my mind.

  Sean materialized from behind a wide tree made black by the night shadows. His winter FBR coat made him appear thicker through the chest; he was more intimidating than before. The scars on the backs of my hands from Brock’s punishment burned.

  He didn’t say a word but turned past the enormous metal blocks emitting their low buzz and stalked deeper into the woods.

  I led with my hands, swiping away the brambles and low branches that impeded our journey. The fence had to be close. How long had we been heading this way? Ten minutes? It was one mile from the dorm building. We should have been getting close.

  “How tall is it? The fence,” I whispered.

  “Fifteen feet,” he answered without turning around. I forced a deep breath.

  “Sean, if I forget later—” I tripped over a branch, caught myself. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t speak for a minute, maybe more.

  “Hope you make it,” he said finally.

  I wasn’t sure if he meant he hoped I found my mother, hoped I could climb the fence, or hoped I didn’t get shot in the process, but his words were a small comfort.

  “Hold it, Banks!”

  I felt like a piece of wood at the moment the ax strikes. My whole body tried to tear in two different directions. One side tried to sprint toward the fence, the other back toward the dorms. The screaming fear was the only thing that locked me in place.

  “Do not run,” Sean ordered under his breath. In a flash, he’d swept the sweater holding my supplies into a bush and fisted a hand in my hair, knotting it all up. My eyes watered. I didn’t struggle for long before he released me.

  Footsteps were approaching. Someone was close. How had I not heard them? I’d been thinking too much about the fence, and saying thank you, and what I was going to do once I got outside. Stupid!

  Did Sean know about this? Was this a trap? Of course he hadn’t wanted Rebecca to come! He was planning the whole time on turning me in!

  Pulse slamming through my veins, I wrapped my arms around my midsection, as though this shield could stop a bullet. The frenetic trail of a flashlight preceded the two soldiers who stepped through the night.

  Randolph. And another lanky guard with thick eyebrows lifted in judgment.

  Their light blinded me momentarily. I heard the rustle of leather and fabric. And then
a metallic click.

  “She running?” the lanky guard asked. The flashlight tore away, revealing both he and Randolph’s raised guns, pointed directly at my chest.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “Looks like she’s running to me,” commented Randolph.

  Sean grinned—a grin I’d never seen, not even with Rebecca—and my fears were validated. Then, to my shock, he lifted his hand, calmly now, and fixed my hair. I jerked away.

  “Well,” he said. “This is embarrassing.”

  Randolph snorted. Sean’s hand trailed down to my lower back, and then shoved me almost playfully away. I stumbled before catching myself, and all three of them laughed.

  “Go on back to your room now, sweetheart,” Sean said. “And keep your mouth shut about this, just like we talked about.”

  It took me a minute to catch up.

  “I wasn’t expecting the next rotation for an hour or so,” Sean continued casually, fixing his pants as though we’d been doing exactly what he did out here most nights with Rebecca.

  Girls were executed for running, not for messing around with the guards. He was giving me a window. A chance to live. As much as I wanted to escape, I could not leave this place in a wooden box.

  I tried to sprint back toward the dorms, but Randolph lurched in front of me. A second later his hands were pinching my hips and his knee was shoved intrusively between my legs. His sour breath clouded around my mouth.

  “Stay a little while longer,” he whispered, and at his words terror shot straight to my core. I struggled against him and was tossed back into Sean’s arms.

  “Trash,” spat Randolph. “Reform-school trash.” They were laughing again, laughing, and though it was against everything I believed, I was ashamed. I couldn’t help it.

  Sean’s grin was not nearly as bold as before. I gripped onto him hard, not knowing where else to turn.

  “You got sloppy, Banks,” the skinny guard said. “The headmistress wanted us to watch you. But we thought it’d be the blonde, not this one.”

  “I said it was this one,” said Randolph. “He’s been staring at her.”

  Staring at me because he was afraid I’d tell Brock his secret, I realized.

  It became clear what was happening. They had set up this trap for Sean, not for me. They suspected him because he had changed since I’d blackmailed him.

  Do not run, Sean had whispered. Everything inside of me said to do the opposite. I could feel my heels already shifting inside of my shoes, ready to bolt at any second. But if I ran, they would most certainly shoot me.

  Randolph laughed. “I could make it go away, Banks.” He raised the weapon an inch higher. He wanted to shoot me.

  I was going to die.

  I didn’t think of my mother, or if I’d been a good person or led a good life—any of those things you’re supposed to think about when you die. I saw one face in my mind, and just for an instant. The one person who couldn’t possibly give me any comfort.

  Chase. Black shaggy hair, copper skin softened by the light rain. His dark eyes, peering straight into my soul. And that mouth, turned up at the corners in curiosity.

  “Shut up, Randolph,” groaned the other guard. “We’re in a no-fire zone; perimeter’s too far out. Besides, the headmistress already figured this is what we’d find.”

  My mouth dropped open. Time seemed to pause. Was I still alive? I felt the pressure of arms wrapped around my body. I was so numb, I barely noticed.

  “Tell Becca I’m sorry,” Sean whispered in my ear. A moment later, there was a shuffle and a sickening crack as Randolph hit him hard in the back of the head with his baton. I felt the reverberation through my body as though I’d been the one struck, and stared in horror at the ground where Sean lay.

  Run, my feet said.

  Run and they’ll shoot you, my brain answered.

  I didn’t have a chance. The next moment, I had a gun to my back, and we were returning to the dorms.

  * * *

  I PACED the length of the common room for hours awaiting the headmistress’s judgment. I thought about screaming for Rebecca, but I refused to put her in danger.

  My good intentions didn’t matter. As soon as curfew broke, I heard the slapping of feet against the hallway floor. This was part of the plan. She was to report me missing when she woke up.

  Her hair was flattened, her cheeks pale, and there were dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. She’d been crying. Either out of fear for Sean or me. I found myself both touched at the prospect of her true friendship and torn by the betrayal I’d dealt her.

  She caught my eyes, and a change came over her face.

  “Don’t,” I mouthed to her. I was too late.

  “Where is he, Ember?” she said shakily, approaching the lanky guard. He lifted his radio. With a lightning fast paw, she slapped it down to the floor, then kicked it aside. He laid a hand on his baton.

  “Where is Banks?” The desperation was heavy in her voice.

  “Rebecca!” I said sharply. She was going to ruin everything. Sean had already protected her—and me—by pretending he and I were together. If he’d agreed I was escaping, I’d be dead.

  Other girls, seventeens and some of the sixteens that shared our hall, had come out of their rooms. Another guard was pushing them back as he passed.

  I heard the light clicking of heels on the wooden floor and knew Brock had arrived. She entered the foyer wearing her traditional skirt and a navy sweater. There was an attendant with her, a short, plump woman who had fear strewn across her face.

  “What did you do with him? Sean! Where is he?” Rebecca spouted before the headmistress could speak.

  Another guard had reached us. There were three now, one beside me, two on either side of Brock. The breath was raking hard up my throat.

  “She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” I tried.

  “Silence, Ms. Miller,” Brock snapped. “I will deal with you in a moment. Genero, call for assistance.” Her voice never faltered.

  “Where. Is. Sean?” Rebecca demanded one final time. Her shoulders were heaving.

  “He’s gone,” spat Brock. “And so are you.”

  “You—”

  “Rebecca, no!” I shouted, just as she launched herself onto the old woman.

  The next events happened very fast.

  With the force of a cannonball, Rebecca took Brock to the floor. I saw a nightstick rise high and land with a dull thud on my tiny roommate’s back. The bones cracked, a sickening sound, and her scream halted prematurely.

  I had been frozen up until then, but when Rebecca was hit, pure adrenaline scored through me. In a flash I saw my mother. I saw the blue uniforms pulling her toward the van. Taking her away.

  My vision compressed behind narrow slits. With all my strength, I attacked the guard who had hit Rebecca. I kicked him, hit him, bit him. I felt skin gather and rip under my fingernails. Everything within me acted on instinct, as though my very survival depended on it. I saw fuzzy images, mostly blue, some gray, as Rebecca was thrown in front of me. Someone yelled. A girl screamed.

  Steel arms clamped around my waist. I thrashed.

  “Rebecca!” My eyes searched frantically for her. The snow was falling heavily from the thick, black sky. We were outside. One of the guards holding me slipped. I felt us plunge toward the cement steps before he righted himself. He swore loudly over the ringing in my ears. Then we were descending the steps backward, and my stomach was lurching as if I were diving into a bottomless pool. Warm blood filled my mouth. I’d bitten the inside of my cheek again.

  “Let me go!” I hollered.

  “Shut up!” barked one of the guards.

  My shoulders hurt from where they pulled my arms. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the cafeteria pass on my left. More stairs. It took me some time to orient myself to lower campus, down by the infirmary. A metal door was pushed open. To my right I saw the fire hydrant in the gleam of the spotlights, defiantly red against the snow.

  I
was in the shack.

  They dropped me unceremoniously on the dank cement floor. All my trembling extremities retracted into my chest. A soldier pointed his club in my face and I tucked my chin hard against my chest so that he couldn’t hit my throat as Randolph had done.

  “Keep your scrawny butt down,” he commanded.

  The room was small. A single overhead bulb hung from the center of the ceiling. There was a brightly lit space to my right, like a large shower, and to the left a dark closet with cement walls, but no racks or hangers. A confinement cell.

  The fear was petrifying. I scooted into a corner, back to the wall, and waited.

  * * *

  LONG seconds stretched into torturous minutes. I saw their faces. Sean’s as the soldiers found us. Rebecca’s, torn with worry. What had I done to them? And worse, what hadn’t I done? I should have been on the outside now, running back toward home and my mother. What had this cost her?

  The door creaked open finally, and a woman slid inside. My gut twisted.

  Brock.

  She had changed into a fresh Sisters of Salvation uniform. There was a bandage on her right cheek. The single yellow bulb overhead made her skin appear jaundiced, but it couldn’t hide the flush of rage still blanketing her severe features.

  “Ms. Miller, I am very disappointed in you.”

  “What have you done to Rebecca?” I stood, my legs trembling with fear or anticipation, I didn’t know. Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to let her see me cry.

  “You are a very bad girl. The worst kind. The wolf in sheep’s clothing. We shall need to shed that cover and remold your interior. I see that now.”

  “What—” Even though I didn’t know what she meant, I was terrified.

  “Guard, take Ms. Miller to the clean room.”

  The clean room. The one that looked like a shower. One of the soldiers was already preparing the fire hose inside. Beside him, a pair of leather cuffs were chained to the floor beside his baton. He intended to strap me down and beat me, maybe even spray me with the hose. For a fraction of a second I saw Rosa, laid out across the floor, watching her blood twist down the drain while the force of the water pummeled her body.