Authors: Eva Gray
Dr. King, whom my parents sent me to because they were concerned that I worry an unhealthy amount, says I have a propensity toward catastrophic thinking coupled with a robust imagination, which leads me to be hyper-interrogatory, particularly when stressed.
That means I ask a lot of questions, especially if I’m nervous.
According to her, I use questions the way a dolphin uses sonar signals, sending them out into the world and taking findings to chart a safe passage through an unknown landscape. (Which would have been more reassuring if all the dolphins hadn’t died mysteriously after the Great Pacific Superstorm, but don’t mention that to your parents because they will roll their eyes and say, “You are doing it again; please
just stop
!”)
I am starting to suspect Dr. King is right because as the darkness gathers around us, every step I take seems to echo with questions. Or rather, one question: Why, out of all of us, would someone kidnap only Maddie?
Drew, for example, would be a way better target. He said his mother was “pretty important” in the government in a way that suggests
pretty
means
very
, so he would be useful to the Alliance.
Alonso’s family moves around frequently because they own an air cargo company — an evil group could do
a lot
with one of those.
Rosie is from a family rich enough to buy her a whole forged identity and therefore likely to be willing to pay a lot to ransom her.
Louisa is the daughter of two very successful doctors who would be good for a free kidney transplant or general patching-up-after-an-intensive-battle kind of thing. I know I always feel more confident when I have a good supply of bandages and antiseptic around.
When Ryan described his house outside of Chicago, I immediately knew which one it was — the one environmental blogs referred to as being an ethical and environmental disaster. Ryan’s father had bought the three mansions around it when the owners lost their fortunes and razed them to put in a
real
grass golf course for himself. With parents who are loaded and unpopular, he is an excellent target for kidnappers. They could probably even auction him off to the highest bidder.
The same is true of me — my parents, both defense lawyers, are rich in money and enemies. Not to mention they know a lot of bad guys’ bad secrets.
But Maddie doesn’t have money or status, or access to
organs, or blackmail material to offer. Her parents are both regular soldiers, and she was only at CMS because Louisa’s parents faked her ID and paid for her. Of us all, she’s worth the least from a kidnapping perspective. So why —
My head whips around at the sound of a branch moving. I peer into the gathering darkness, but if there’s anything there, it’s not visible.
I’ll admit, there might be the slightest chance that I’m a tad hyper about the possibility of danger. I mean, it’s not like we’re wandering around the Settlement Lands or someplace like
that
. But besides the very real possibility that we’re being pursued by enemy agents, I’ve also heard rumors about escaped zoo animals that have made the now-deserted suburbs their lairs, along with roving packs of rabid dogs, swarms of carnivorous killer bees, and off-gridders who are willing to do anything — and by that I mean
eat
anything — to survive. A group of seven kids would make a great dinner for a hungry —
Not seven, I remind myself. Six. Maddie’s gone.
And that’s when the answer to
Why Maddie and Maddie alone
comes to me, hitting me with such force it knocks my breath out.
I lose my footing for a second and fall against Louisa.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
I gulp and shake my head. “Nothing.”
I can’t tell her. I can’t tell any of them. Because if I’m wrong, it will upset them for no reason. And if I’m right —
If I’m right, then Maddie was taken
because
she isn’t valuable. Because she’s … expendable. As bait for us or a message to our parents, she is worth as much or more to the Alliance dead than alive. Which means if we can’t find her in time, she won’t just be gone. She’ll be gone for goo —
Was that a growl
?
My mouth goes dry and my heart starts to race.
I glance over my shoulder, trying to make it look super casual, as though I’m just checking out how the rest of the group is doing, and not looking for predators with a taste for human flesh.
Rosie and Drew are right behind me. Rosie is shuffling forward, her gaze on the ground, hard fists jammed into the pockets of her hoodie. Drew, stumbling aimlessly beside her, somehow manages to appear sort of frail despite being by far the tallest and most athletically built of all of us. I wish they looked a little more intimidating.
Alonso and Ryan are following them, talking in a subdued way, but at least they look like they’re more than half-zombie. Alonso catches my eye and gives me a smile.
Behind them is … nothing.
So why won’t the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stop tingling?
I face forward again, but then a sharp wail splits the air behind me. I turn just in time to see Drew’s eyes roll back in his head. Clutching his shoulder, he staggers forward and sinks facedown, unconscious.
F
aster than you can say,
Everyoneonthegroundthere couldbemorepoisondarts!
Louisa streaks by me like a blond comet and is on her knees next to Drew’s lifeless body. Rosie kneels beside her and together they turn him over so he’s lying on his back.
His navy blue jacket has fallen open and there’s a flower of blood blooming near his left shoulder.
“This is my fault,” I gasp. “I knew someone was following us and I should have said something and then we could have prevented them firing their poison darts and what if it’s fatal and —”
“Oh my god, Evelyn,
shut
up!” Louisa orders. She unbuttons the striped cotton shirt Drew is wearing and pulls aside the T-shirt he has on beneath it to reveal a
large, angry gash. “This isn’t a poison dart; it’s a cut, and it looks like it happened a while ago.”
Drew’s eyes flutter. “With Maddie,” he says, his voice like the painful rasp of an unused hinge. “When I … to stop them … car door … my shoulder …”
“You’re going to be fine,” Louisa says to him in a tone that is comforting and authoritative at once. I don’t know if it’s because she’s heard her parents do it, but she seems to have this doctor thing down.
Even though she just yelled at me, it makes me feel better, too. If this happened to Drew when he was trying to save Maddie, then it’s not the result of anyone shooting at us or trying to ambush us.
And we (probably) aren’t being followed.
Louisa’s taken Ryan’s water bottle and dripped a bit into Drew’s mouth, then put some on Drew’s shoulder.
“Sorry,” she says as he winces. She looks at me with an intensity I’m not used to but her voice is still calm and almost casual as she says, “You have the first aid kit we got at CMS for the camping trip, right?” I nod and she goes on. “Can you find something to clean this with
and something to use as a bandage? I’ll just cover it up and after some
rest
, he’ll be good as new.” I realize she’s sending me a message, that this is more serious than she’s letting on, and we need to stop moving.
I find gauze and tape in my backpack without looking (you never know when the power might go out and you’ll have to be able to locate supplies in the dark). Then I try to match her tone as I say, “I was thinking this would be a good place to break for the night.”
And it’s true, if you like narrow paths between scraggly bushes in the middle of an unknown wasteland. But we don’t have a lot of choices. We only have a little more than an hour until nightfall. Even though it’s been hot all day, at this time of year the temperature can drop sharply — and fast. We need to set up a camp.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me that we also need to find food.
The others give me a look that says,
Have you lost your mind
? and I give them a look that says,
He needs to rest
, and Louisa gives all of us a look that says,
Oh my god, you guys, stop — he’s noticing
.
Drew says, “No. No resting. We’re going on,” and tries to sit up.
The color drains from his face and Rosie has to catch him before he passes out again. She gently but firmly lowers him back to the ground. “Behave yourself. Don’t make me hurt you,” she jokes.
He gives her what you can tell he thinks is a grin. “You could try but yo
eeeesshhh,
” he yelps as Louisa dabs the antiseptic on his gaping wound. His breathing is unsteady and I can see he’s squeezing Rosie’s hand in pain. He swallows hard, twice. There are beads of sweat on his forehead. “I’m serious,” he says through clenched teeth. “We don’t have time. Leave me. The rest of you go.”
Next to me Alonso gives a bark of laughter. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
“If you want to get rid of us, you’re going to have to try harder,” Ryan adds.
“Can we move him?” Alonso asks Louisa. “I think there’s a building over there.” And following his finger, I see a glint of light. Not from the hungry eyes of a
bloodthirsty predator, either, but from what looks like a partially broken windowpane.
“I can walk fine,” Drew says, which is completely untrue. Rosie shoulders his pack, Alonso and Ryan get on either side of him, and Louisa and I follow in case he pitches backward.
It’s farther than it looks to the building. Before we reach it the dirt begins to give way to asphalt and the trees thin. Soon the trees are replaced by waist-high rusted metal posts planted in perfectly straight rows. Some of them have wires twisting out of holes near the top, and in the darkening twilight they cast long shadows, like the fingers of evil witches.
A chill creeps up my spine.
The posts march toward a tangle of immense pieces of metal jutting haphazardly from a crumbling concrete base. They are clearly the remains of what had once been a massive curved structure, like an altar or an oracle or one of those places that ancient people used to make pilgrimages to. It’s silent in the way only a place without
trees can be silent, but a gust of wind comes up then and it makes an eerie whining sound.
“Do you think this is some kind of cemetery?” Ryan asks in a hushed whisper. “Or, like, haunted?”
“No.” I say it more out of hope than conviction. Also I feel like there’s something familiar about the layout of the place, something I’ve seen in an old movie.
“A drive-in,” Rosie announces, interrupting my thoughts. “That’s what this was. People came to them to watch movies. All those poles had speakers on them and people parked next to them in their cars. My parents told me about them.”
“You mean every one of those was
for a car
?” There is awe in Alonso’s voice that I totally understand. The idea of this many people being able to afford the gas to drive cars, not to mention to drive them just to sit in them and watch a movie
outside
when a superstorm could strike at any minute, is incredible.
“No wonder there’s no gas left now,” Louisa says.
The reflection we’d seen came not from a windowpane,
but from a metal star that looks like it had once been part of a sign, dangling from the side of a building on the edge of the lot. “That must have been the snack bar,” I say, remembering the movie I’d seen about a drive-in. In it the people had parked and eaten pizza and drunk grape soda.
I really wish I hadn’t retained that detail because it makes my stomach feel even hollower. When was the last time we ate? Yesterday?
Like he’s reading my thoughts, Alonso says, “I think I saw some berry bushes on our way over here. Once we get the patient settled, we can go look.”
We cross the rest of the way to the building, hurrying because the wind is picking up and making more of those eerie howling noises.
There’s no door on the building, just a double metal frame where glass doors had once been. Inside, it’s like time stood still. There’s a beige counter with red-vinyl-topped stools in front of it. Over the counter hangs a sign offering the World Famous StarBrite Cinema All Beef Burger Deluxe (w/All the Fixin’s!) for only $53.00 and
the Light Up Your Night Ice Cream Sundae with chocolate sauce, nuts, whipped cream —
I have to stop reading. It’s too painful. If you could even get your hands on actual meat these days, a burger would easily be five times that much, and even though I can’t imagine what a Fixin’ is, I am positive that I would like it.
I bet none of us have ever had whipped cream.
All the windows have been boarded up, so even though it’s only dusk outside it’s pretty dark in here. Rosie and I turn on our flashlights. Dr. Louisa uses the sleeve of her hoodie to dust off the counter and has Alonso and Ryan stretch Drew out on it. Since I’m the one who can find all the supplies in my backpack the quickest, we decide I’ll stay and assist while the others go look for food.
As I watch them emptying out their packs in anticipation of finding something, I can’t help thinking of the last time we separated this way. It was when Maddie and Drew went looking for food, and that didn’t end well.
“Actually, someone should stay and stand guard,” Rosie says, as if she’d been reading my mind. “Just — in case there’s some kind of situation.” I nod. I personally
will feel much better knowing Rosie of all people is watching out for us.
There’s an awkward moment right before Alonso and Ryan go outside, like we’re all wondering if something will happen. The wind howls again, bringing a chilly gust that smells of night into the building. It reminds us we don’t have any time to waste.
As soon as the others are gone, Louisa hops into action. “We’re going to need to clean the cut, then dry it and seal it up,” she says, sounding like she knows what she’s doing.
I hold her flashlight in the crook of my neck and my flashlight in my left hand. With my free hand, I pass her things when she asks for them. Water bottle. Antiseptic again. More gauze.
“Do you have anything like tweezers?” she asks.
I’m about to shake my head when I remember the Alliance prison camp we accidentally broke into three — can it really be only
three
? — days ago. I fish in my bag and pull out the staple remover. “Will this work?” I ask, holding it up.
She takes it. “Perfect.” She begins plucking tiny pieces of gravel out of Drew’s arm. He winces in pain, but she’s quick. Without taking her eyes off her task, she says, “I’m sorry, about before. When I yelled at you?”
“That’s okay. I understand.”
“I think I was a little jealous. Of you and Maddie. The way you became friends at school. And so when I was upset, I took it out on you.”
This surprises me. “But Maddie is your best friend, no question.”
“I know.” She nods. “But as soon as we got to CMS, it was like she changed.” She lets out a big breath. “Or maybe it was me that changed. Anyway, she was smart to become friends with you. And I’m glad you ask all those questions.”
“That’s impossible. No one is glad I ask so many questions.”
Her hands don’t stop moving but she shoots me a sly, sideways glance. “I think Alonso is. At least based on the way he looks at you.”
“What?” I ask, almost dropping the flashlight that’s balanced in the crook of my neck. As far as I can tell, Alonso looks at me the same way he looks at everything and everyone else.
“With those big brown puppy-dog eyes like —”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, bending my head meaningfully toward Drew in the universal signal of
I will kill you if you bring this up in front of a boy
.
But Louisa just smiles innocently at Drew’s wound and says, “Evelyn, please hold that light steady.” Then the smile fades and her hands stop moving and she looks up at me. “I’m serious. I’m glad you are the way you are. If anyone can find her, it’s you. I know it. Liquid skin.”
It takes me a moment to realize she’s changed topics. I hand her the little bottle of wound sealant and watch as she daubs it on expertly. It’s like she’s a whole different person, more serious and focused than I’ve ever seen her before.
“Did you watch your parents at work a lot?” I ask.
She tucks a stray piece of blond hair behind her ear. “Not really. They would have liked me to, I think, but I
wasn’t that interested. I — I never thought I was cut out to be a doctor. Not smart enough.”
“Are you kidding? You’re amazing,” I tell her.
“When I was little I used to get hurt on the playground a lot, swinging from the bars and stuff. They were always patching me up, and I guess I picked up more than I thought I did. There.” She takes a step back. “That should stop the bleeding.”
I glance at the wound and it looks a million times better. You would have thought a real doctor did it. Drew seems to have fallen asleep at some point but it’s clear he’s going to be fine by the morning.
We turn off our flashlights to save the batteries, move a little farther down the counter, and each take a stool. It’s almost completely dark, the open door a silvery outline, the corners of the room pitch-black. Even though Louisa is sitting only a foot from me, she’s nearly invisible.
The stools are cracked on the tops but they’re still sit-able and they spin around. I bet it was super fun to come here with your friends.
I say, “What are you going to have? I’m thinking of a burger with all the fixin’s.”
“Oh heavens no, not for me. I’m dieting for my vay-cay,” Louisa says, hamming it up. I wonder what it was like to live in a time when there was so much food some people went on diets. “My family and I are going on a luxury cruise around the Greek Isles and I want to look good in my bikini.” Her stool squeaks as she moves from side to side. “What were fixin’s, anyway?”
“Something incredibly delicious,” I assure her.
“Wait — you don’t know? I thought you knew everything.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Seriously, how come you know so much about almost any topic?” she asks. “Like about the government and the Alliance and stuff? Is that from your parents?”
Even though it’s dark, I roll my eyes. “No way. My parents never tell me anything about what’s going on in the world. They like to pretend everything is perfect and everything is going to be okay. They’re all, ‘Don’t worry about it, Evelyn; that wasn’t an explosion in Cleveland. I
don’t know where you heard that; don’t you have homework?’ “ I say, imitating my mother’s voice. “Which of course just makes me more curious. Even just
skimming
the NewsServs it’s clear that everything is NOT okay. How can everything be okay when it’s started snowing every other month and farmers can’t grow food? Or when California hasn’t had power in two years or —”
I realize Louisa’s gone really quiet. “Never mind,” I say.
“I was just thinking,” she says. “My parents are like your parents. They never tell me anything bad and they always say everything is going to be okay but I — I always just believe they’re right. Now —” Her lip trembles and I make out a flash of movement as her fingers go to her throat. “Now I’m not sure. They said not to worry and I didn’t. I just took everything for granted. I didn’t realize how easy it was for it to all disappear.”
I know that the place on her neck she’s touching is where she used to have a gold locket that got lost when we were escaping from CMS. But I think she must be thinking of Maddie, too. I’m sure of it when she says,
“When we first got to school and I liked it and she hated it, there were a few nights where I got into bed and she and I weren’t speaking. You know that kind of silence? I thought it was awful. But now — now I’d trade anything for that. Because not having her here, not knowing what’s happening to her, that is really awful. You’re positive we can get her back, aren’t you?”