At the End of Everything, page 5
From here, a narrow mountain road leads toward the nearest town. Sam’s Throne, a small town right at the edge of the Ozarks. It was where Leah and I were transferred from the court’s jurisdiction to the care of a local guard. We waited for nearly two hours, and the court clerk refused to let us go to the bathroom. It made the drive uncomfortable, but at least there were no roadblocks.
Not like the one that currently protects the pass. With barricades and floodlights that seem to come out of nowhere.
And soldiers, heavily armed. With guns pointed in our direction.
Six
Grace
“Turn back to where you came from!”
I knew this was a bad idea. I can’t put into words how good it feels to be under an open night sky, to see stars and clouds go on forever, unobscured, endless. I don’t know how to wrap my mind around the overwhelming joy of walking without having to stop.
But leaving Hope goes against every fiber of my being. Not because I want to be there, but because I want to make it out. Properly. I want to prove to everyone—but most of all myself—that I can find a way to be good. To be better than this.
Instead I find myself once more with a gun pointed at me, and a familiar, bone-numbing terror spreads through me.
Hunter clears his throat and raises his hands. He takes a careful step forward. “What is going on?”
“Stay back!”
Hunter freezes.
“Farther, all of you!”
Something heavy settles in my stomach. We all take a few steps back.
The roadblock is set up with barred traffic barricades and a truck parked sideways across the road. It’s manned by at least four soldiers, and none of them look particularly excited about ten teens showing up in the middle of the night. Two soldiers are wearing neck gaiters pulled up over their mouth and nose, and they whisper among themselves. One runs to a truck a little ways farther down the road.
“We’re just trying to get to Sam’s Throne,” Hunter says, when he gets no answer to his initial question.
I push my fists into my pockets to keep from reaching for him and pulling him back.
“Stay there, and show us your permit!” The same voice has an edge of fear to it now, and that only ever makes things worse.
“What is happening?” Emerson whispers behind me. I can’t make out the hushed answer, but it’s probably a variation of nothing good.
The soldier who ran back returns with an officer. The officer motions at the guards to keep their post, then steps in front of the barricades. He hooks his thumbs around his belt. The absence of the weapon doesn’t make him look any less menacing, especially when the soldiers behind him still have their guns trained on us.
“Go back to where you came from, and you won’t get into trouble, kids,” he says, presumably trying to sound older than he looks, trying to de-escalate whatever this is.
“Do they know who we are?” A soft voice. Leah, probably.
“We live in Sam’s Throne!” Hunter says boldly. “We’re trying to go back to where we came from.”
I bite my tongue. I want to hit him. They’ve already recognized us. Emerson isn’t the only one in part uniform, for goodness’s sake. Reid wears a navy-blue sweater with HJTC in bright-yellow letters on its back. What is Hunter going to do? Convince them that we’re harmless fugitives, so don’t mind us?
The officer—lieutenant something-or-other, judging by his insignias but lack of name tag—scoffs. He shakes his head. “Nice try. You’re Hope kids. Keep your distance, go back to where you came from, and we will all pretend this never happened.”
I raise my eyebrows, because that’s wildly, ridiculously generous. But if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me. They know who we are. We have to get out of here.
I reach for Hunter’s arm. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Hunter frowns, and he silently stares past the soldiers at the mountain pass. The barricade effectively blocks it from all sides, with barriers on the other side of the soldiers too. No one will get in or out of town from here.
Maverick elbows his way forward, past Hunter and me, and immediately the soldiers tense again. “Why?”
His question is backed up by several others from Hunter’s crew. “Yeah. What’s going on?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Why can’t we pass?”
It’s curiosity mixed with bravado. It’s like they’ve forgotten that we’re technically prisoners on the run.
I wait for Hunter to tell them that it doesn’t matter, that we have to go back. Because he must see what I see, feel what I feel: that cold certainty, crawling its way up from my feet to my legs to my spine. Lieutenant What’s-His-Face glances back at one of the other soldiers, and she immediately tightens her grip around her gun. Despite his forced relaxed appearance, this situation is a powder keg.
“We want to know what’s happening,” Reid demands.
I glance around. Reid stands close to us, his arms crossed, and his face pale. At the far edge, Emerson has begun to back away, while Leah and Logan cling to each other. They understand as well as I do that curiosity comes at a price.
Except Hunter still doesn’t do anything.
“That’s fair, sir,” one of the soldiers says. She’s a young woman, with kind, hazel eyes and her hair in a ponytail. She’s not much older than we are. “They have a right to know as much as anyone else does.”
We all turn around to look at them. At the officer. He squares his shoulders and tilts his chin up. I’m sure he intends to look imposing, but under the light of the barricade, with shadowed mountains flanking us, he merely looks small.
The lieutenant rubs his face, adjusts his gaiter, and after a few seconds, he comes to a decision. “Several days ago, right before Thanksgiving, there was an outbreak of a respiratory disease in several cities across the state and the country. The disease appears to be highly contagious and deadly, and since the outbreak happened as everyone was traveling, it’s been able to spread rapidly across the country. The government placed the state in total lockdown. No one can leave their houses or travel outside of the town borders without a permit.”
Oh.
“An outbreak?” Reid asks. “Like…a plague?”
The lieutenant swallows, then nods. “Exactly like that, yes.”
So not chest-bursters then. That’s my first, ridiculous thought. No aliens. But I’m not sure this is any better. A plague? A respiratory disease? What does that even mean?
Behind me, someone coughs, and the effect is almost immediate. Two of the guards turn and train their weapons in our direction. The lieutenant steps back. A wave of fear washes over us.
I raise my hands and try to find my voice. I try to ignore the refrain in my head and the rapid beating of my heart. We’re complying. We’re complying. We’re complying. “We’ll go back. Right, Hunter?” I address him, more than the soldiers. I need him to see reason, because once he does, the others will follow.
Maverick shakes his head. “No, we need to know more. So people got sick? Why does that mean we need to stay inside? Who will take care of us?”
“Who will provide us with food and medical care?” Reid chimes in. “What if we get infected?”
“What kind of disease?”
“What are the symptoms?”
“What will happen to us?”
They’re solid questions, and we deserve answers, especially if this lockdown means our guards won’t come back to us. But now is clearly not the time. The soldiers in front of us tighten their ranks, and the boys from Hunter’s crew shift uncomfortably.
“We’ll figure it out,” I try. “We’ll go back to the center, get everyone together, and regroup. Call for help. Figure out what’s going on.” I lower my voice. “But we won’t be able to get through here. Look at them. We—”
Reid raises his chin. “No. I want to know. I want answers. What will happen to us if we go back?” He’s balled his hands into fists. He won’t back down.
The lieutenant shakes his head. “I don’t know. I do know nothing good will happen to you if you stay here or try to push through.”
It’s a very thinly veiled threat—so much for de-escalation. His words are followed by angry mutters from Hunter’s crew around me. Emerson is whispering something under their breath, and the twins hold on to each other. My stomach flips. I don’t want to be here, stuck between boys and their terrible decisions once more. I want to turn around and go back.
“So we have to sit tight and wait for a deadly disease to pass—or for the government to forget about us?” Maverick laughs bitterly. He is walking around the group like he’s looking for another way out, but there’s only thick patches of hickory trees around us and rough slopes that are impossible to climb at night. Perhaps there are other ways out of here—shallow streams or trails—but not with armed guards observing our every move.
One of the soldiers keeps Maverick in his sights.
“They won’t forget about us.” I try to keep my voice down. They won’t. Right? No matter how much it feels like that sometimes, they won’t. They can’t. The authorities will find a solution—or we will. But we have to get out of here.
“You’re naive if you believe that, Grace,” Maverick says. “Do you really think they care about us?”
“No, but…” Maybe part of me does. Deep breaths. The cold November air chills me from the inside out. “C’mon, let’s go. Let’s go back. Find one of the computers. Figure out what’s going on and—I don’t know—appeal to someone.”
I place my hand on Hunter’s arm, pull him aside, and repeat the words. Hunter frowns. He seems torn between Maverick and me. I’ve never seen him this uncertain before. But if he moves, the rest of the crew will fall in line. He’s the key to getting us all safely out of here.
Reid growls. “No. I hate it. I’m not going to sit around and see what happens.” He slaps my hand away and places himself in front of Hunter. “We’re in this together, right? You always said you’d take care of us, and now we need each other. I can’t go back. Fuck, I can’t. I hate those walls, I hate the smell, I hate the food. I don’t want to sit there and wait for some kind of plague to find us, and I don’t want to sit there until someone decides that it’s safe enough to feed us. What will we even do without guards around?”
“Exactly!”
“I don’t want to go back either!”
“Let’s go!”
Once Maverick picks up Reid’s declaration—with a snarled “I won’t be locked up again”—Hunter shakes himself and nods. “I agree. We can’t let them send us back.”
The words rattle me to the bone. “So what would you do?” I place myself between Hunter and the guards and try to keep my voice down.
“There’s…what, five of them? We outnumber them.” Reid glances over my shoulder and smirks. His eyes are cold and dangerous.
“They have guns,” I hiss.
“We have the element of surprise,” he says. “They won’t expect us to do anything. Not really.”
“Of course they don’t! Because rushing a group of armed soldiers is ridiculous.” I want to grab him and punch him until he sees sense. “Are you really that ignorant? Are you completely unaware of the situation around you? I want to get out of Hope too. Don’t you think I’m tired of living between the same walls and doing what other people tell me to do? But I want to survive, Reid.” More than that, I want to live, but I won’t admit to that.
“We all do,” Reid says, his voice low and threatening when he turns to his best friend. “Don’t we, Hunter?”
Hunter’s jawline flexes. He knows a challenge when he hears it. “Reid’s right, we have to do something. We can’t go back. Maybe we can’t get through here, but we’ll find another way around.”
“Through the woods?” I ask incredulously. “Over the mountains? Good luck. Try that when it’s light out if you want. I’ll take my chances back home.” The words leave my mouth before I can truly consider them. Home. Fuck. What does that even mean? How could I say that?
Because you have no other home, a little voice in the back of my mind tells me. You don’t belong anywhere else.
Shut up, I tell it.
But if I had any chance of convincing Reid or Hunter or any of the others, I’ve lost it with that single word. A slip of the tongue and I’m no longer worth listening to. I see it in the way the boys turn from me, I feel it in the scornful gaze from Hunter. Reid spits on the floor in front of me.
“We’ll retreat and try to find our way around them,” Hunter continues, his voice rising in strength, as if I’d never spoken. “Find another route toward Sam’s Throne. We won’t go back to Hope.”
He locks eyes with Reid, a quiet demand for him to fall in line. But Reid doesn’t look down. I’m witnessing some kind of shift in power, because Hunter takes a step closer, and Reid straightens to meet him.
Reid slowly shakes his head. “No. We’re here now. We keep going.”
“It’s too dangerous, man,” Hunter says. He indicates the soldiers, who are still keeping a watchful guard.
Reid folds his arms. “It’s worth a try.”
“They’ll shoot you,” Hunter insists.
But it doesn’t seem to be a threat to Reid. “Then they’ll shoot me. I can’t go back.”
Hunter reaches out to him. “We won’t. I promise you, we won’t.”
Reid smiles bitterly, like he regrets what he has to say. It’s the same stunt I saw from Warden Davis on the regular. That “I’m not sad, I’m disappointed” frown. “You hesitated for so long. What’s to say you won’t change your mind when we turn back? What’s to say Miss Let’s Go Home won’t change it for you?”
I keep my mouth shut, because it’s the sensible thing to do. Our crowd is filled with whispers. Crew members who drift from Hunter to Reid and back. Everyone feels it now, and briefly, the soldiers don’t matter, because this is our world. This is our normal.
Hunter grabs Reid by the neck and pulls him close. “I won’t.” His voice is low and menacing, and it would be enough to pull me in line.
Reid reaches out and pats Hunter’s cheek. “I don’t trust you, friend.” He disentangles himself from Hunter’s grasp and checks him, casually pushing him aside. “We’re here. We keep going.”
His declaration is met with murmured agreements. People who hesitate between him and Hunter. Reid winces and turns to Hunter one last time. “We’re too close now,” he says. “Don’t you see? I can’t go back. I can’t. I can’t. I have to try.”
So he does.
Time slows down.
Reid rushes past us, because he hasn’t yet learned that the world isn’t made for people like us. He runs toward the soldiers. And with no hesitation whatsoever, one of them lifts his weapon.
Takes aim.
And fires.
Seven
Emerson
The sound of the shot echoes around us. It’s followed by shouting—and screams. The shouting comes from the soldiers. Two others have pointed their guns at us, and they’ll shoot. I know they’ll shoot. They’re scared and we’re scared, and I don’t know who’s screaming, but my throat feels raw.
“Reid!”
Reid stumbles closer to the small gap between two barricades before he reaches for his chest and topples over.
This can’t be happening. It can’t be. Oh God. Protect us. I try to fumble my way around a prayer, but my mind refuses to catch up. Let no evil befall us. I left that side of me behind a long time ago.
It can’t be happening.
It is.
It’s too much. Sneaking out and finding out about—what? A plague? A pandemic? They’re shooting at us.
This isn’t real.
Hunter tries to run forward, but Grace clings to him. So do some of the others. He’s strong enough—or desperate enough—to push forward regardless. Trying to get to where Reid has fallen, in spite of the soldiers on high alert.
Reid lies splayed on the ground, one arm spread out, the other underneath him. One leg at a weird angle. It twitches until it stops twitching.
Are the bruises on his knuckles from where he beat me, or is it something else? Why was he at Hope? What was his story? I can’t ask him now.
A pool of blood spreads under him, like tar under the night sky. He doesn’t cough. He doesn’t give any indication that he’s hurt. He doesn’t breathe.
“Reid! Come on, man!” Hunter manages to reach him, and he all but drags Grace with him.
Immediately, two soldiers step forward, guns trained on them. Another shout. The officer, again. They reverse their weapons and use the butts of the guns to slam Hunter and Grace aside and away from the barricades. Grace goes sprawling across the road, and Hunter stumbles. He raises his hand to his head, to feel for blood perhaps, and shakes himself.
“Reid!” His voice cracks.
I want to run forward to see if everyone’s all right and stumble backward all at the same time, but I stand frozen. A year ago, I had everything. I had a family and a place to call home. Now I’m in the middle of nowhere, watching other kids get shot. Is this what my parents wanted for me when they kicked me out? Perhaps this is what purgatory feels like.
God…
One of the soldiers shoves Hunter away again. It’s the spark, and we’re all ready to explode. The rest of the crew surges forward. Leah zooms past me, on her way to Grace or Hunter or Reid, I don’t even know. It happens so fast.
When the other boys move forward, the rest of the soldiers step toward them and form a buffer between us and Reid. All of them use their guns to bludgeon and push and create distance. Leah somehow slips through. Perhaps because she flanks them. Perhaps because she doesn’t register as a threat.
