The Farm (6 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lily

Mel was waiting at the door of the storage closet, peering wordlessly through the opening. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been there and how much she’d seen.

She stepped aside to let me enter and I pushed open the door, scanning the tiny space. Well, at least she hadn’t done any more damage while I’d been trying to kill Carter.

Mel stood there, staring at me. For once, I could offer her absolutely no reassurances. I didn’t even have the energy to be sorry.

All I could do was gently shut the door and wedge the chair under the knob, giving us a shred of security. Then, leaning against the bare patch of wall beside the door, I sank to the floor. Pulling my legs to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them and dropped my forehead to my knees.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins and now that I wasn’t using all my strength to defend myself, my muscles started trembling. My skin had gone icy cold and my hands shook so hard I almost had trouble holding on to my legs. I wished, desperately, that I hadn’t taken my hoodie off and left it out in the science lab. Or that I had a blanket. Something reassuring and cuddly to cling to.

Mel and I had three blankets, stolen from the dorms in the early days. One was a fuzzy blue polyester job. The other, a thick brown wool. The third, an obscenely cheerful pink quilt. Not the kind someone’s grandmother had lovingly made, but the bed-in-a-bag kind. Of course, Mel had stripped our mattress and neatly folded the blankets so the rounded edges showed.

I didn’t have the energy to bring Carter the blanket I’d promised him. I was cold and shaky. I could have used a blanket myself. Mel just stood there facing the shelves, positioning and repositioning the items with meticulous care.

So I just rested my head, closed my eyes, and waited to warm up on my own. A different kind of sister would guess how freaked out I was right now. She would wrap a blanket around my shoulders and stroke my hair. Maybe even put her arm around me while I cried. But instead of that nurturing sister I fantasized about, I had Mel. When I opened my eyes, I saw that she’d put her Slinky on the floor beside me.

I swallowed back my tears and smiled at her. “Thanks.”

**

By the time fourth meal rolled around, I’d located and repacked almost everything we needed in our backpacks. I wasn’t going to take any more chances. Our bags were once again stuffed and ready to go at a moment’s notice. And we wouldn’t be leaving the room without them. I started with the easy stuff. Our spare socks and underwear, for example, were all small when folded, so they were in the front, at the beginning of each color row. It had been a trick convincing Mel to let me pack them, but after about twenty renditions of “Red rover, red rover,” the underwear and the socks went into the backpacks.

The twelve bags of corn chips were the sole items on the shelf of orange things. The first aid kits should have been simple. The white plastic boxes sat side by side on the top shelf. They were empty. By the time I’d collected all of the Band-Aids and ointments, all the rolls of Ace bandages and tiny packets of aspirin, it was almost time to go to fourth meal.

I’d seen no sign at all of the map. It could be anywhere, tucked into a textbook or filed away with old tests. I tried not to panic. I had only vague ideas about what we were going to do on the outside. Find a car—there were certainly enough of them abandoned around town. Head north—the Tick outbreak had started in the Southwest, so I figured they were strongest there. If the Canadians had succeeded in securing their borders, maybe we could find sanctuary from the Ticks there.

I’d spent a lot of time staring at that map, trying to figure out where to go after we got off the Farm. Maybe I remembered the roads well enough to get us there. All the warm socks and antiseptic moist towelettes in the world wouldn’t help us if we couldn’t find our way out of Oklahoma.

I’d just finished flipping through my twelfth copy of
Elements of Geology
when I noticed Mel standing by the door. When I looked up, she said, “Jack Sprat could eat no fat and his wife could eat no lean.”

“Okay.” I set the book aside and pushed myself to my feet. I handed her the pink backpack and swung the green one over my shoulder.

We left the room, but Mel stopped at the door across the hall, which Carter had left open a crack.

“Jack Sprat could eat no fat and his wife could eat no lean.”

I gritted my teeth.

“Jack Sprat—”

“Okay, okay. I get it. How did you even know he was there?”

She didn’t answer. I hadn’t expected her to, but when the only person you ever talked to was autistic, you asked a lot of rhetorical questions.

I gave the door a cursory knock as I pushed it open.

“I thought I told you to put a chair—” I broke off abruptly when I spotted Carter.

He was standing with his back to the door. He’d been in the process of pulling on a T-shirt, so his arms were stretched over his head and I could see the muscles of his back. He paused for a second in midmotion when he heard me speak.

Then he jerked the shirt the rest of the way down. “Hey, come on in. Is it time for dinner already?”

“Fourth meal,” I corrected automatically. “No one calls it dinner anymore.”

But my words sort of echoed unheard in my ears, because my brain was still stuck on the image of his bare back. On the scars.

The skin of his upper back and shoulders was riddled with them, six or seven on each side. All about the size of a nickel and various shades of red and pink, as though some had been healing for months and others were mere days old.

My hand went to my own neck, to a spot not far from my spine where the Ticks had implanted my chip when I’d first arrived at the Farm.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Carter said.

His voice was overly loud, like he was determined to snag my attention from the bizarre scars.

I looked from his shoulder to his face, my eyebrows jacked up in obvious question.

His only response was to reach for the hoodie he’d draped over one of the lab tables. I noticed a mirror sitting on the floor, pointed in the direction of the door. I was about to ask about it when he picked it up and slid it into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Were you watching our door?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “Good thing, too, since you were about to leave without me.”

“No, I wasn’t,” I lied.

“So how’s Melanie doing?”

I could take a hint as well as the next girl, so I let him distract me.

“In general? Like, how’s your family, I haven’t seen you in a while?”

He chuckled, pulling the hoodie over his simple gray T-shirt and then giving the hem a little tug. “Actually I meant, how is she now? You said before if she couldn’t handle it, you’d make me leave.”

“She’s fine,” I said tightly. Then I admitted, “Actually, she pretty much insisted we invite you.”

“I’ll have to thank her.”

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded toward the door. “She’s waiting out in the hall.”

He followed me out the door and we found her standing a few feet away staring down the hall as she bobbed slightly on her toes. She tapped her ring fingers against her thumbs.

It was one of her self-stimulating behaviors. Watching Mel now—trying to see her through the eyes of a stranger—I was more aware than ever of our similarities and our differences. I could do a fair job imitating her unique behaviors, enough so that I could pass for her if I needed to. But she’d never pass for me.

As Carter walked up to her in the hall, I felt that familiar protectiveness well up inside of me. She watched him in that odd, crowlike way she had, head tilted to the side, as if she was looking at him through only one eye and then, only half interested.

Carter just nodded a little and said, “Hey, Mel, you still have your Slinky?”

She’d been wearing it on her wrist like a bracelet. Now, she slipped it off and clutched it in front of her in both hands, thumbs threaded through the center. She held it up to show him and then shifted her hands up and down so it seesawed from one hand to the other.

Carter laughed. “Yeah. I thought so.”

Mel’s gaze jerked to mine for only an instant. “Red rover, red rover, let Carter come over?”

I knew exactly what she was asking and it made my heart pound. “No,” I told her firmly, praying she’d let it drop. “Jack Sprat, remember, Mel?”

“Red rover?” she repeated.

I searched my brain for another nursery rhyme about food. “Hot cross buns. One a penny, two a penny,” I said, improvising. “Don’t you want a hot cross bun?”

Actually, the idea made even my mouth water a little. Hot food of any kind was pretty rare on the Farm.

“Red rover,” she repeated firmly and this time I didn’t argue, because she started walking toward the stairs and that was something.

When we reached the stairs, Mel hung back a couple of steps, just like I’d trained her to do, while I opened the fire door, paused, and listened carefully. The stairwell was one of those completely open jobs. If you stood at the top and looked over the railing, you could see down all seven floors, all the way to the basement. I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out one of the pebbles I kept there, then tossed it down the center shaft of the stairwell. The stone pinged off the railing several times. The clicks and clanks of its trip down echoed up to us and then there was silence. No scuffling of feet or heads peeking out to look up.

“Okay, come on,” I said.

Mel shuffled forward. Carter followed at the rear, looking at me with eyebrows raised as if impressed. “Neat trick. You ever hear anything?”

“Once or twice.” I kept my voice pitched low. “There are a couple of other staircases in the building we could take. I don’t like the idea of being trapped in such a confined space.”

It was a risk we took being on the seventh floor. There were a lot of steps between us and freedom. There was always the potential of being trapped in the building, but I figured it was worth it if it meant we could sleep at night without fear of someone breaking into our room. Besides, six flights of stairs wasn’t the only thing between us and freedom.

Tromping down the steps behind Mel, I slipped my hand into my pocket and rubbed one of the pebbles between my thumb and forefinger. These tiny stones gave me the illusion of control. It wasn’t real, but I clung to it nevertheless. Was that brave or just stupid?

“So, why don’t you call it dinner anymore?” Carter asked from behind me.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem like dinner anymore. Breakfast, lunch, dinner: those words imply the food is different. Like breakfast should be bacon and pancakes. Or eggs. Lunch should be big turkey sandwiches with lettuce and tomatoes, maybe a bowl of soup on the side.” My mouth started watering just thinking about it. I nearly made a slurpy sound, then felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“So what would it be?” Carter asked.

“What?” I asked in surprise.

“What kind of soup? If you could have any kind, what would it be?” There was a playful quality to his voice that made me feel . . . I don’t know. Grumpy, maybe.

Ignoring his question, I said, “We call it first meal, second meal, third meal, and fourth meal because we don’t have any choice about what they feed us and when we eat.”
Whether or not we’re eating, or being the food.
I didn’t say that part aloud. “I don’t want to forget that we’re prisoners here.”

Mel played with her Slinky behind me. I could hear the
sllluuunk
,
sllluuunk
noise it made when she was nervous.

He held out his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I’m not saying you should forget you’re a prisoner. But remembering what you love about life from the Before, that’s not a bad thing.”

“Great,” I chirped. “Then after fourth meal, why don’t we sit around the campfire, sing ‘Kumbaya,’ and braid each other’s hair?”

“Hope is a powerful thing.”

I snorted with disgust. “Sure. And if this was the movie of the week, then we’d be in great shape. But since—”

“Po—” Mel said abruptly, then struggled to get out the next syllable. “—tato.”

Carter and I both wheeled around to look at her. She was standing a few steps below us, not watching us, but staring at the single incandescent bulb in a wire cage that lit the stairwell.

“What?” I asked, more out of surprise than curiosity. I had heard the word, I just couldn’t fathom that it had come from her mouth.

Carter’s mouth curved into a grin—as though Mel’s response had won the argument for him. “So Mel wants potato soup. Me, I’d kill for a cup of gumbo.” He nodded, and with the faintest touch to Mel’s elbow, he got her walking again and they headed down the stairs. “What kind of chips would you have with that sandwich?”

“Mel’s not allowed to have chips!” I called indignantly from the landing, shock still gluing my feet in place. It was a particularly stupid comment to make—because, God, we practically lived on chips at the Farm. So I had to justify it by adding, “She was on a special gluten-free, preservative-free diet. She’s not going to know what kind—”

“N-n-not corn chips.” Mel forced out the words.

And Carter, damn him, chuckled, glancing over his shoulder. “You coming?”

But I wasn’t. I felt trapped there on the stairs, watching them. Carter had launched into a description of what he’d eat—the grilled tuna salad panini his nanny used to make him, dripping with cheddar cheese, crisp dill pickle on the side—as he and Mel hit the next landing and continued on down.

And I still just stood there, feeling . . . God, I didn’t know what. Mel had spoken. For the first time in months, Mel had spoken sensible words. As part of a conversation. Without a nursery rhyme in sight. She’d actually responded to a question. Not once, but twice.

I felt my knees wobble beneath me and I sank to the landing. All this time, I’d assumed it was the trauma of living on the Farm that had made her retreat to those early childhood behaviors. But maybe it wasn’t the Farm. Maybe it was me.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lily

An icy wind swept across the quad and by the time we made it to the crush of people around the steps of the dining hall, I was glad for the protection the extra people provided. The doors to the dining hall weren’t open yet, but even though it was a few minutes until eight thirty, the mass of Greens edged closer to the doors.

Mel stood close to my side. My little lamb. She had spoken to Carter, but she was still my responsibility. I looked behind me for Carter and felt a trickle of annoyance when I didn’t see him immediately. I glanced around and caught a glimpse of him squatting at the edge of the crowd, messing with his boot. There was something furtive about his posture. More annoyed than concerned, I was about to go rein him back in when I heard Mel squawking.

I spun back around to see her cringing away from a group of guys. They probably hadn’t meant her any harm, but she was in their way and rather than skirt around her, their group had oozed forward to encompass her. Flinching like an animal being prodded from multiple angles, she seemed panic-stricken, ready to either flee or collapse in on herself.

Carter could fend for himself. I bolted toward Mel, elbowing the guy nearest her. “Hey, give us a little room.”

The guy spun on me. He wasn’t particularly big, but his expression flashed from disinterested to belligerent the second I touched him. He puffed out his chest. “You wanna eat, wait in line like everyone else.”

His buddies had noticed. Noble pack animals that they were, they moved to his side. Sure, I got it. You needed someone at your back. The problem was, when they closed ranks around him, they cut me off from Mel.

“I am in line.” I tried for steady and logical, but I could feel Mel’s panic. “I’m with her.”

One of the pack animals looked back at Mel. “What? You’re with that freak?”

I saw what he was going to do as soon as he reached for Mel’s arm. I yelled, “Don’t touch her!”

Either he didn’t hear me or he thought I was making an empty threat.

The second he grabbed her arm, Mel lashed out. Even if her life depended on it, Mel couldn’t have launched a purposeful attack, but her panicked flailing did as much damage. She elbowed him in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him with a humph. He doubled over and her thrashing fist caught his face in an awkward uppercut.

Two of the other guys launched themselves toward her. Some part of my rational brain knew they were just trying to help their buddy. But the part of my brain that protected Mel, the stressed-out part that had been responsible for her for months, the part that would do anything to keep her safe, didn’t care that they were just helping a friend. I thought about the Greens outside the fence. That girl who would die tonight and who’d done less than this. I threw myself into the fray, trying to reach Mel before the Collabs showed up.

My backpack was heavy with gear and I swung it around to clear a path. I caught one of the guys in his middle and he bent over, clutching his stomach. I ducked under the arm of another guy. I didn’t see what Mel did next, but her attacker crumpled to the ground.

Off to the left of us, a scuffle broke out amid rumblings of
hey, watch it
s and
back off, buddy
s. By the time I’d dodged around another guy, I heard the sickening crunch of punches being thrown from several directions. Fights were breaking out all around. It was as if this one scuffle between Mel and the jerk who’d grabbed her arm was a pebble dropped into a pool of water. Her fear, panic, and anger spread through the crowd like ripples from that tiny pebble. Except instead of dissipating them, distance magnified the waves.

I stumbled up a step, looking for Mel. But the crowd seemed to have expanded. There was a wall of fighting, grunting kids between us. As if that wasn’t bad enough, someone bumped into her and the Slinky went flying out of her hands. I was too far away. Her face was bone white, her eyes darting wildly.

I had no idea how this fight had broken out so quickly. We Greens were normally so passive. But the rage that simmered beneath our still surfaces suddenly boiled. Instead of gently gurgling, it spewed out of everyone. We’d turned on ourselves.

Guys were fighting on either side of Mel. She opened and closed her mouth in a silent scream. Then it hit me. She was calling my name. She just couldn’t get the words out past her terror. I ducked low to avoid being hit and crawled along the ground amid the kicking feet and stomping boots. Someone’s foot caught me in the ribs. And I saw the gray metal Slinky roll away. I scrambled after it, snatching it off the ground an instant before it got crushed under a boot. I struggled to my feet, shoving people aside as I did.

I scanned the area for Mel and finally found her, maybe five feet away. She was recoiling from the fight around her and every step she made took her farther away from me. Between us was a massive guy pounding the crap out of someone much smaller. As I watched, he grabbed the kid by the front of his shirt and picked him up, raising him so high his legs dangled feet above the ground. I knew instantly the bully was going to throw the kid. Right onto Mel. She was too terrified to move. Even though the kid was small, she’d crumple beneath his weight.

It all flashed through my mind, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I was still too far away. I
had
to protect her, but I’d never get there in time.

Then, as if out of nowhere, someone launched himself at the bully. It was another smaller kid. Maybe one of the victim’s friends, I don’t know. I didn’t even see what he’d done at first, but the big bully howled in pain, then crumpled and—as fast as he’d appeared—the second kid vanished back into the crowd. He left the bright red handle of a screwdriver sticking out of the bully’s back.

The kid he’d been about to throw at Mel scuttled away. The bully reached a fumbling hand around to his back, trying to reach the handle.

“Help me!” he cried. “Get it out!”

“Don’t touch it!” I yelled. “It’ll gush. Leave it there.”

I didn’t wait around to see if anyone followed my directions, but threw myself past him to get to Mel.

I reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her close. It was the only time she let me touch her, when she was more afraid of being too far away than she was of being too close. The instant my hand touched hers, relief coursed through me. For once, she looked me right in the eye and her hand even tightened a little, before she grabbed the Slinky from me and clutched it in both hands. I watched the panic fade from her eyes as she regained control of herself. Maybe I couldn’t protect her from everything, but as long as we were together, I would try.

The stabbing had been like a bucket of icy water splashed over the crowd. The people nearest all backed away, their horror visible on their faces. The bully was still screaming for help. An instant later Collabs rushed in. They appeared everywhere at once. On the edges of the crowd, I could see them tranqing the few people who were still brawling. A pair of Collabs with a med kit shoved their way through the crowd to the wounded guy.

He saw them coming and tried to bolt, ruthlessly shoving people out of the way, but his wound slowed him down. A second later, one of the Collabs aimed his tranq rifle at the guy and fired. He screamed out one last plea for help and then crumpled to the ground.

For a moment, I watched as they laid him out and popped open the med kit. I could hear the
sllluuunk, sllluuunk, sllluuunk
of Mel reassuring herself her Slinky was okay.

One of the Collabs got out bandages. We didn’t stay around to see what happened. I pulled Mel away when the other reached for the screwdriver. I guided Mel through the crowd, trying to squelch the sickening feeling in my gut.

Those Collabs were only stabilizing the guy. They were most likely patching him up so they could tether him with the others outside the fence tonight. They weren’t trying to save his life. They just didn’t want to waste the blood.

I felt revulsion rise up in my gut, but I swallowed back my vomit. How could they stand to do it? How could they live with betraying the rest of us day after day?

I glanced around, looking for Carter, but he was nowhere to be seen. For a second, my brain raced. Mel was still nervous. We’d lost Carter. Someone had been stabbed and Collabs were tranqing Greens.

I blew out a long breath.

Okay. Yes, this was bad. But Mel and I had made it out. Surely Carter would, too. He’d avoid the worst of the fight and find us later. I didn’t let myself consider the possibility that he’d get taken in by the Collabs. He was smarter than that.

I raised my hand and waved a hooked finger in front of Mel’s face. “Look at me, Mel.” She just whimpered. I waved the finger again, narrowing my own attention down to just her. Like she was the only person in the world. “Look at me.”

Her eyes found mine but she wasn’t really looking at me.
Sllluuunk.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Somehow saying the words aloud, I could almost believe it was true. “It’ll be okay,” I said again. “Everything is okay, Mel.”

Her eyes finally focused on mine.
Sllluuunk.
The panic on her face faded to just a frown. “Little Bo Peep lost her sheep.”

Okay. That was a new one. Usually I was Mary.

“No, we’re together, Mel. I didn’t lose you.”

She jerked her hand out of mine, a sure sign she was frustrated. “Little Bo Peep lost her sheep.”

“I didn’t lose anything. I— Oh, you mean Carter?”

Her head bobbed in a nod. “She doesn’t know where to find him.”

Relief bubbled up in a giggle. Carter was the least likely sheep in the world. I gave Mel a quick hug, even though I knew she’d hate it.

“Carter can take care of himself,” I assured her. “Plus, he knows where to find us back at the science lab. He’ll be just fine.”

Sllluuuuuunk.

That one seemed extra long and I wondered if Mel was reassuring herself or me.

Moments later, the Collabs had suppressed the fight and hauled away the troublemakers. The doors to the dining hall opened and the crowd started filing in.

Even though things had calmed down, I kept close to Mel and looked around for Carter as the Collab scanned the chip in my neck and ushered me through the turnstile. Mel came in right after and together we headed for the food line, where more Collabs were handing out trays of junk food. I still didn’t see Carter, but I buried my fears deep. He’d show up back at the science building.

The dining hall was packed. Since I’d dragged Mel down the stairs and out of the way, we were some of the last people to make it in to the cafeteria. I figured Carter had gotten in with the first group and been shuttled back out before we even got our food. Unless there was something else keeping him away. Had I been right to suspect him?

I didn’t let myself worry until Mel and I made it back to the science lab and he still hadn’t shown up. It was nearly curfew already. Five hours ago, he’d all but begged for a place to stay for the night. I didn’t want to think about who—or what—might have kept him from making it back to safety.

Carter may not seem like a very likely sheep, but I’d definitely lost him.

**

The first curfew bell rang at ten thirty and others would follow ten minutes apart until just before curfew when three chimes would ring every minute for the ten minutes before the final long series of bells. Mel and I never needed all those warning bells. We were always back in the storage closet long before curfew, the chair wedged under the doorknob. Not tonight.

Tonight, an hour from curfew, I sat out in the classroom, perched on one of the lab desks, legs dangling off the side, the shiv resting across my knees. Waiting for Carter. Wondering if we should leave now and find some other place to spend the night.

I figured I’d give him ten more minutes and then we were going. If he hadn’t made it back by then, either he’d been taken in by the Collabs or he’d turned us in to the Dean. Only one thing had kept us here this long: the possibility that he’d betrayed us just didn’t make any sense. If he had seen the pills, he would have found out where we lived and then the second I’d left him alone, he would have snuck off to find a Collab. He wouldn’t have waited all afternoon and then done it now. Something must have happened to him. Or was I only telling myself that because I wanted to believe there was someone here on the Farm I could really trust?

Mel sat cross-legged on the floor at the front of the room, where floor-to-ceiling whiteboards covered the entire wall. A pack of dry-erase markers sat open on the floor beside her Slinky while she drew long rows of dots on the board. She didn’t draw the measures or the ledger lines or even the stems. Just the note heads. Her scribbling wouldn’t make sense to anyone but her, but I had no doubt in her mind it was exquisite. She hummed along softly as she drew. It might have been Beethoven. Or perhaps Chopin. Sometimes I got them confused even though they sounded nothing alike.

Then, over Mel’s humming, I heard a sound from the hall.

“Shh,” I whispered, but she’d stopped humming and had her head cocked to the side, listening, too. Listening to the tentative shuffling of footsteps.

Carter had made it back.

I hopped off the lab table and dashed for the door, but I stopped before opening it. I thought about the little mirror I’d seen Carter using. If Mel and I were going to make it through the next few days while we ironed out our plans, I’d need to get one like it. For now, I just held my breath and waited to see who it was. It didn’t sound like Carter.

Then a voice called out. “Lily?”

I jerked to a stop, my heart in my throat. It wasn’t Carter. It was Joe.

I cracked open the door and peered out. He’d stopped a couple of yards down the hall, in a shadowed spot where the lightbulb had flickered out a few months ago. His hair was pulled back in a scraggly ponytail, and he wore a gimme cap. Through the shadows, I thought I saw a backpack on his shoulder.

“Joe? What are you doing here?” I’d never seen Joe outside of his shop, not even for meals. I had no idea where he lived, but it had always seemed like he was immune to the rules the rest of us had to follow.