Gated (32 page)

I glare at it. I hate guns. I think I always have. I want to throw this gun across the room, get it away from me, but I can’t reach it from here. I make a frustrated sound in my throat and try not to let it turn into a scream. I feel like I might be crushed under the weight of it all. I should’ve stayed underground. I should’ve tried to make everyone
see Pioneer for what he is. I should’ve made them listen somehow. Instead I ran out and saved my own skin. I’m not brave or heroic. I’m a coward, just like Pioneer always suspected.

A loud thump breaks me out of my thoughts. I look up, expecting to see Cody carrying ody carrone of the horse blankets, but the walkway is empty. The tack room door flung wide open. I don’t see Cody anywhere.

“Cody?” I call out. There’s no answer. “Cody? Are you there?”

Still there’s no answer.

I look around the stable. Why isn’t he answering? I inch along the bench until I can see the tack room a little better. He’s definitely not inside. But something’s lying on the floor at the far end of the walkway, a little heap of blue-striped cloth. Indy’s blanket.
Where’s Cody?

“Cody?” I try again.

Something’s wrong
.

“He can’t hear you,” someone says.

And the voice isn’t Cody’s.

It’s Pioneer’s.

I straighten up on the bench, my heart in my throat. I scan the stable for him. He’s not anywhere, but the last stall door is now slowly swinging open.
How can he be in here? How did he get out?
It doesn’t make any sense. And then it hits me—the second emergency tunnel. On the map, it empties out into the stable. My breath catches in my throat. He’s here for me.

Pioneer doesn’t show himself, but he does start talking again. “Cody’s resting,” he says. I can hear the grin in his voice. “We needed a little time alone. See, I’ve come to collect you, Little Owl. We should all be together when we leave this place. It’s what the Brethren would want. Even after all you’ve done, you still belong with me.”

“Help!” I yell. “Sheriff, somebody, help!” But even as I yell, I’m drowned out by a second explosion in the corral. The stable fills with dust all over again, but I only cover my eyes for a few seconds. I feel Pioneer lurking in the dimness around me. Stalking me. My eyes burn, but I have to look for him. Outside, the shouts pick back up and the helicopter noise gets louder for a moment before it quickly fades.

“That should buy us a few more minutes,” Pioneer says brightly. “You know, it pays to be prepared. I was almost certain that those explosives were overkill, so to speak, but now, well, I’m pretty pleased with that little bit of foresight.”

I’m afraid to move or breathe. Pioneer could be in any of the stalls, biding his time until he can rush out and take me by surprise.

The gun.

I glance over at the table and the gun that’s just out of reach. I hesitate only briefly before I lunge for it. My leg screams in protest, buckling as soon as I put weight on it, but I still manage to grab the edges of the table and keep myself from going down all the way. My knees slam into
the floor and I suck in a breath. I reach across the table and pull the gun toward me. Then I slip it out of its holster and cock it.

“I have a gun.” I yell at the stalls. “Don’t get any closer or … or I’ll shoot.”

“Oh, now, don’t be that way, Little Owl. We both know you’re no good at that sort of thing anyway.” Pioneer’s mocking me. He sounds more amused than scared. It terrifies me.

I lift the gun and point it at the stalls. My hands are shaking and it’s bouncing up and down.
Steady, Lyla, steady
. I blow out two quick breaths and concentrate on making my arms stiff and st stiff aill.

“I’ll get to you before you muster up the courage to even try it,” Pioneer says, and he sounds a little closer—or am I just imagining it? “See, I won’t hesitate before I shoot you. I’m delivering you to the Brethren. There’s no shortage of joy in that for me. But you? You seem unsure of where we’re all headed, and that makes you unsure about what taking my life really means. You seem to think the only way to save someone is
not
to shoot. You’re still that little owl you’ve always been. Always watching, always afraid to act. You don’t have the conviction to do what must be done. Never have, never will … but you know I do.”

He’s right, I’m no good at this. Maybe I can just crawl outside. I look at the wide entrance to the barn. I’d have to pass every stall to get to it. I’ll never be able to get there
fast enough, not with one bad leg. And Cody’s in here somewhere. I can’t leave without him. I’m stuck. I have no choice but to defend myself.

A loud boom echoes out of the open stall. Pioneer kicked the side of one of the stalls to try to scare me. It works. I scream and the gun goes off. He laughs. He’s trying to keep me scared and distracted. Any minute now he’ll come for me. I aim at the stall I think the noise came from. I almost let off another shot, but then think better of it. I don’t know how many bullets are left. Better to wait for him to show himself. I go back to concentrating on keeping my hands steady.

“You still gonna try to shoot me?” Pioneer’s voice is light, teasing. “Better make that next shot a good one ’cause it’s all you’re gonna get.”

All of a sudden he throws himself over the wall of one stall and into the next. I raise the gun a little, try to aim, but he’s too fast. The moment’s over. He’s closing the distance between us.

I slide my knees a little farther apart and try to keep my balance. He might not be able to get me if I’m quick. He’ll have to clear the table first no matter what, and I’ll have that extra few seconds to try to shoot again if I miss this time.

“Stop right there!” I shout, but my voice is trembling.

Pioneer laughs. It’s overly loud. Confident.

I try to get angry. I want the anger to dilute my fear. I force myself to think about Indy and Marie. I remember
the way Marie looked at him right before he slit her throat. And about Cody. He’s lying in this barn somewhere hurt … maybe even dying. I have to find him, help him.

I can do this
.

I have to do this
.

“Lyyy-laaa.” Pioneer sings my name softly.

I shiver hard enough that I almost drop the gun. I grip it tighter, then tuck my face close to my arms, keeping my eyes on the sight at the end of the gun. I watch the top of the stall for any signs of movement. My finger twitches on the trigger.

It gets quiet.

I stay very, very still … and wait.

A minute goes by, maybe more. I can hear people outside, getting closer. I think about calling to them, but I can’t speak. Pioneer won’t wait much longer. I can’t get distracted.
He’s coming for me
.

Suddenly Pioneer leaps up from the second stall with his gun aimed at my head. Iat my he don’t look at his eyes. I focus on his chest, just the way he taught me to at the range. I pull the trigger at the same time he does. Wood splinters off the walls. I can hear it hitting the ground like rain. Am I hit? I don’t think so.… He’s still coming. I must’ve missed him too. I take aim again just as Pioneer reaches the tables. He lifts his gun. Our eyes meet. His mouth curves up a little.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

For the second time today, I’m deafened by gunfire.
I fired … more than once I think … but did he? I look down at my chest. I’m surprised when I don’t see blood blooming there.

He’s missed again.

I’m okay.

I look over to where he was. There’s a spray of blood on the inside of the stall door right across from me. Pioneer’s slowly pulling himself across the floor and into the opposite stall. He’s hurt but alive. His gun is on the floor. He dropped it when I shot him. Still, I keep my gun aimed in his direction just in case.

Men pour into the barn almost immediately. They heard the shots. I can’t seem to make my mouth work, so I point toward the stalls. They find Pioneer right away.

He’s not moving anymore.

One of the guys who worked on my leg steps forward and begins to open Pioneer’s shirt. He feels along his neck for a pulse. He nods. Pioneer is still alive. But I can tell by the way everyone’s started rushing around that he might not be soon.

A stretcher seems to materialize out of nowhere. They put Pioneer on it and start rolling him out the door. They go right past me, and when they do, Pioneer’s head turns in my direction. He’s awake, but his eyes are glassy, his face gray. He looks at me, and that look burns into my brain. I raise the gun again because for a brief, hysterical moment I’m convinced he’s going to try to lunge at me.

“You’re mine,” he says. I don’t hear him, but I see his
mouth make the words. My finger twitches on the trigger, but I don’t shoot. And then he’s gone.

Someone takes the gun from my hands. Someone else leads me back to the bench. I’m shaking all over, my teeth chattering so violently inside my head that I’m afraid I’ll bite off my tongue. The man in front of me tries talking to me, but I can’t answer him. I just stare out into the barn.

“Cody” is all I manage to say when I can finally get ahold of myself enough to speak.

The sheriff’s eyes widen and he goes completely white. He runs down the walkway yelling Cody’s name. They find him just beyond the tack room. He’s got some bruising around his neck where Pioneer grabbed him, cutting off his airway until he went unconscious, but otherwise he’s okay. They set him next to me on the bench, and he rubs his neck and winces.

“You’re okay.” He says it like he was sure that I wouldn’t be. He smiles just a little and reaches up to touch my cheek before leaning back against the wall behind him and closing his eyes. I stare at the quickly darkening bruises on his neck and try to stop shaking.

My parents are still underground. So are Will and everyone else. It isn’t over. Pioneer could’ve trapped them down there or they could still be preparing to fight. They don’t know that Pioneer’s been shot.

The police find the emergind the ency tunnel down to the Silo without my help. I watch them motion to each other and then talk into their headsets, but I can’t hear them. I’m
not sure if it’s because of the gunshot or my chattering teeth, or if my brain has just decided not to let me hear. They crowd into the last stall and look at the floor where the tunnel is.

After a few minutes of tense silence, they call down into the tunnel and we wait to see if anyone will answer. We’re all holding our breath. Then my dad’s voice carries up from underground and breaks the spell.

“We’re okay and we’re unarmed.”

Tears roll down my face. I wasn’t completely sure that they would stop fighting. A flood of relief overwhelms me and I tip my head back against the wood and smile in the midst of my tears. No
one else is going to die. It’s over. It’s all over.

My friends and family emerge from the Silo one by one. They climb up into the stall wide-eyed and blinking like babies seeing the world for the first time. They huddle together once they’re out. I can see the uncertainty in their faces. I know what they’re thinking.
What now?
I’m wondering the same thing. I want to rush into their midst and find my parents, but I hang back. I’m not sure what they’ll think of me once they know I shot Pioneer.

My parents end up being among the last to leave the Silo. My dad is practically dragging my mom out. She’s completely unresponsive. Karen’s shoes are still in her hands. When he sees me, he grabs me up in his arms and hugs me for a long time. We’re both crying when he finally lets go. My mom stands beside us, but she doesn’t move
or hug me or even look at me. She doesn’t do anything at all. She’s just standing there, perfectly still. I try not to let it destroy me. I know this isn’t how she wanted this to end, but for now I guess it’s enough that she’s here, that we all are.

On the day Pioneer said that the world would end, we come back to Mandrodage Meadows. It’s the tail end of fall, and the last of the warm weather is long gone. Most of the leaves have finished dropping. They make shushing noises under our feet as we walk. Cody says that the forecasters are predicting an early and unusually long winter this year. If today is any indication, they’ll be right. There’s a chill in the air that hints at the snow we’re supposed to get later on in the week. I’m kind of glad that it’s cold. Somehow the weather fits the moment—like the whole world is saying goodbye with us.

I didn’t want to come back. I wasn’t sure that I could be here again. But the counselors thought it would be a good idea and so here we are. They said it would bring us closure. When we watch the sun set in an hour and the world doesn’t end, maybe we can finally face the truth. The
apocalypse isn’t coming. And then we can move on, start over. But they have no idea what they’re talking about. There’s no starting over. There’s just going on. I’m not sure why they can’t see that. I guess maybe only people like us can, people conditioned to survive, not overcome.