A Girl Undone (2 page)

Images flashed through my head. Maggie exiting the church, holding up the banner.
I SURRENDER
. Gunshots. Her body sailing backward like she’d been punched.

I knew I should say something to Luke about his birth mom and dad dying in the firefight. “I’m sorry about Maggie and Barnabas—”

Luke clenched the wheel. “You heard what happened?”

“Spoke told me when he found Yates and me back on the mountain.”

“The minute those agents opened fire on Maggie, Barnabas was out the door. He got two of them before they took him out.”

During the last forty-eight hours, I’d watched hours of television with the sound off, but no one, not one news crew, reported that story.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Luke said. “I spent my whole life angry at my mother for leaving me, and then I have to watch her die, trying to save my life.”

I shook my head, unable to speak.

“They’ve got Salvation surrounded.” Luke looked to see if I’d heard him. “The governor sent state troopers to ‘assist’ the federal agents while they interview everyone.”

Hunting for clues for where to find Yates and me, I bet. “How did you get out?”

“Beattie shoved me in the tunnel after Barnabas and Maggie got shot. I hid there until the next night, then came down the mountain.”

Sealed for hours in the pitch-black, in a narrow tunnel that smelled like a grave after seeing your birth parents gunned down? Then tromping through miles of snow, the temperature below freezing? How did Luke have the strength to do it?

I wanted to reach over and touch him, let him know I understood what he’d been through, but something stopped me.

“How would the feds even know about you?” I said gently. “You’ve been off the grid your whole life.”

“Yeah, I’m luckier than you are. I’m not in their system, and there aren’t any photos of me they can throw up on the news.”

Luke slowed and pulled into a parking lot outside a grocery store, stopping alongside a big metal donation box. He got out, letting the engine run, and slid a pair of snowshoes from under a blanket on the back seat, before he walked over and dropped them in the donation box.

Time to toss the hat, I thought. I pulled it out of my pocket, leaving my phone on the dash. Luke held the metal bin door open, and I shoved the hat in. Then we climbed back in the car, and a few minutes later, Luke drove up the ramp onto the freeway, leaving the lights of Boise behind.

“So where are we going?” I said.

“Right now we’re headed east.”

“And how long before we come back? A week or two?”

He reached down and fiddled with the radio controls. “How about we play that by ear?”

I blinked into the darkness as the radio came to life. “Authorities continue their search for suspected terrorist Aveline Reveare last seen in the survivalist community known as Salvation—”

“Sorry about that.” He switched to a country-western station.

“It’s not your fault I’m all over the news.” I hugged my crossed arms to my chest. “I can’t believe I was so na
ï
ve. I thought when I got to Boise, I’d turn over Maggie’s evidence to the police and be free to go. I was so sure after the video of the feds firing on Salvation was blasted all over the national news that Vice President Jouvert would have to answer for what the feds did.”

“The vice president’s got powerful allies. The leaders of the Paternalist Party are gonna cover up his crimes so theirs don’t get exposed.”

“Do you know they said I’m guilty of ‘associating with a terrorist’?”

“Yeah, I heard. Pack of liars, saying that about you and Maggie, and calling Salvation a bunch of ‘armed extremists passing themselves off as a religious community’! Makes me want to line them all up and shoot them.”

Something in his voice made me do a double take. Luke had every right to be angry, but—

He lifted my phone off the dash. “You listen to the message from your friend, yet?”

“No, Sparrow’s message was for Maggie, not me.” I wasn’t exactly lying. I’d only listened to a few seconds before I’d pulled out my earphones after the little I’d heard made me sick.

“Maggie’s dead. Don’t you want to know what you’re carrying?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s—” Too dangerous. “I’m not ready.”

Luke ran his fingers over the lit screen. “We should listen to it now. Maybe it could protect us if we get caught.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head even harder. “Maybe later. Not now.”

“All right,” he said, handing it back to me. “Later.”

I pushed the phone deep into my pack, hearing again the breathy murmurs of my friend Sparrow and the powerful man she was with, Vice President Jouvert. Her voice echoed in my ears. This recording was trouble magnified by a hundred.

I hadn’t asked for any of this. I hadn’t intended to become a revolutionary. All I’d ever wanted was to be free to choose what I wanted to do with my life.

Now Luke had shown up, and I couldn’t pretend that this whole huge mess would disappear.

2

The sun was coming up over the mountains when we got to the outskirts of Pocatello, and we followed a school bus into town. Pickups were gathered outside a brightly lit doughnut shop, and the smell of hot sugar made my empty stomach tighten.

A black truck with police lights approached, and I slid below the dash and out of sight. I crouched there, ticked at myself for not checking if Luke’s brake lights were working, because he probably had no idea that cops liked to have any little excuse to stop strange cars.

“All clear,” Luke said.

I climbed back into my seat.

He drove slowly, his gaze panning left, then right, like he was reading an unfamiliar landscape.

“Have you ever been here before?” I said.

“Once. A few years ago. Barnabas used to take me with him when he had to deliver the guitars he’d built. He sold to a store here, a few up around Casper, and Jackson Hole, and a couple in Spokane. So I’m not completely ignorant of the world outside Salvation.”

I saw Luke’s face relax like he’d spied what he was searching for. A block later, he pulled into a lot beside a lawyer’s office and parked in a spot with a name painted on it.

“Luke, they’ll tow the car if we leave it here.”

“That’s my plan. Take your things.”

“What are we doing?”

“We’re walking from here.”

I glanced at Luke’s face to see if he was joking, but he wasn’t. He reached in the glove compartment and took out a pistol, then stuck it in his pants under his coat. “You still have your gun?”

“It’s in my pack,” I said. Stuffed in the bottom with the clip removed. “You want me to get it out?”

“Nah, it’s still early. I think we’ll be fine.”

I wrapped my scarf over my hair. Spiky wasn’t a popular hairstyle in Idaho and I didn’t want to be memorable.

We were alone on the street, but I felt like I had “fugitive” painted on my back. We walked beside each other with our arms bumping before Luke felt for my hand. “We should look like a couple.”

I wove my fingers into his, surprised at how lightly he held mine, despite how strong he was. His hand felt hot through my glove, making me think Luke was as nervous as I was.

I tensed as cars drove by, letting out my breath after they passed. It had been years since I’d walked in the open without a bodyguard, and my neighborhood in L.A. didn’t count. There was a guardhouse and cameras on every street.

The street ended at the train tracks, and Luke turned left. Gravel crunched under our boots as we walked along the tracks, sometimes shielded from the road by industrial buildings, only to be exposed by the empty parking lots between them. The nearest trees were on the other side of the tracks, and I wished we were over there.

Cold burned my cheeks and the tip of my nose. The scent of bacon wafted from somewhere nearby. “That sure smells good,” Luke said.

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

“Maybe we can get some breakfast later.”

Yeah, I thought. We could order the Fugitive Special.
Make it to go,
I could tell the waitress.
We have to run
.

“Here’s the street,” Luke said, and we turned onto it, ducking our heads as a car went by.

A chipped and faded sign for
HISTORIC OLD TOWN
pointed us to buildings with brick fronts and skinny, old windows that looked like they’d been there forever. Signs for department and jewelry stores, a coffee shop and a hotel hung outside abandoned businesses.

I gripped Luke’s hand as we walked. Scarpanol had hit Pocatello hard. The planters outside the florist were empty, and the inside was a shell. The beauty salon windows were thick with dust, and the dress store had nothing in it but a few empty clothes racks. The only signs of life were the three bars and two burger joints.

I wondered how many women had lost their lives, eating meat they thought was safe.

Up ahead, I spied a brand-new sign outside the bank:
TURN YOUR HOUSE INTO A HOME WITH A BRIDE MORTGAGE
. A smiling cartoon house pointed to a bashful cartoon bride.

I stopped in my tracks. “That’s disgusting.”

Luke looked from me to the sign and tugged me along. “We need to keep moving.”

“Why am I surprised that men buy brides up here? Salvation’s the only place I’ve ever seen where every girl can choose who she marries.”

“You can help fix that, you know.”

“I know.” I avoided his gaze. I couldn’t kill Signings and forced marriages, but the evidence I carried could wound the Paternalists badly.

A sheriff’s car pulled onto the street and headed toward us. Luke quickened his pace. “Act like I said something funny.”

As the black car came closer, I threw off Luke’s hand, crying “I can’t believe you said that!” and gave him a shove that made him stumble back against the brick storefront. Luke laughed and caught my hands, then held on tight, bugging out his eyes and wagging his lips like a goofy-looking fish. I pretended to laugh at his teasing while the patrol car rolled past. Then I heard it drive off, and Luke dropped my hands. “Sheriff’s gone. You can relax.”

A steady stream of cars crisscrossed the intersection up ahead. We started walking again, our pace even faster than before. “We need to get off the street. How much farther?” I asked.

“Not too much longer, I’m guessing.”

I kept waiting for the patrol car to circle back for another look. It was another ten blocks before we stood outside a church. “This is it?”

A plain cross topped a white-painted brick building the size of a basketball court. The windowpanes were simple gold and purple squares, but they were shiny clean.

“Beattie told me they’ll help us,” Luke said.

Spying the cross gave me hope that was true. “Are they part of Exodus? Maybe we should talk to them about going to Canada.”

“You still hung up on getting to Canada? I thought you had a promise to keep.”

My neck turned hot and I loosened my scarf. “I do—I intend to keep my promise—I’m just not sure of the safest way to do that right now.”

Luke twisted up his mouth, and I half expected an argument, but then he waved his hand at the church and said, “How about we try going inside?”

“All right.”

We followed a sign with a red arrow pointing to the side of the church, where a set of steps led to a door marked
OFFICE
. The door was unlocked, and the smell of hot coffee greeted us. An older man wearing suspenders over his sweater stood behind a silver-haired woman as she typed on an ancient computer.

A TV screen flickered in the corner. The sound was off, but I recognized the aerial shot of Salvation, the cabins scattered over the snow and the church covered in ripped strips of black solarskin that flapped in the breeze.

“Luke,” I whispered. “We should leave.”

“No, it’ll be fine.”

The man peered at us over his wire-rimmed glasses. “Can I help you?”

Luke stepped forward. “Mr. Beaufort?”

“Yes?”

“Beattie sent us.”

The woman’s mouth fell open. She glanced from us to the TV. “When did you talk to her last?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Is she alive?”

“She was when I left.”

She dropped her head. “Ah, my baby!”

The man squeezed her shoulder. “Vera and I’ve been so worried. We keep waiting to hear.”

Beattie was older than my mom so it was hard for me to imagine her being Vera’s baby.

“The church walls are real thick,” Luke explained. “And the windows are bulletproof. There’s a bunker under the church where everyone can take refuge if the church is breached.”

“And the rest of the family?” the man said.

“Keisha was safe in the bunker, and Cecilia was away. I wish I could tell you more.”

The man came over and shook Luke’s hand. “Thank you.”

Vera stumbled around the desk, walking as if one leg was shorter than the other. “It’s a shameful thing the government did—attacking its own people. Children. Innocents!”

She took me in from the scarf over my hair down to my boots. “You were there. You’re the girl that sent out the distress call.”

I looked to Luke, and he nodded.

“Yes, that was me.”

The man’s face went pale.

“Harris,” Vera said. “We’ve got to help them.”

Harris wiped a hand over his face, and I grabbed Luke’s sleeve. “We should leave, and get the car before it’s towed.”

“No!” Vera said. “Harris Beaufort—we’ve waited days to find out about our daughter. We have to help them.”

“Vera. Settle down, my flower. Of course we’re going to help them. I’m merely trying to think through how we’re going to do it.”

“They need to get someplace safe.”

“I know. I know.”

Luke nodded at a construction-paper sign saying
BARGAIN SHOP
, taped to a nearby door. “Could we buy some new clothes from you?” I asked Vera.

Her eyes formed a question that she didn’t ask. She fumbled in her sweater pocket and came up with a set of keys. “Come with me, the both of you.”

We clambered after her down some narrow stairs, closing the door behind us. Luke leaned over my shoulder. “See, what did I tell you?”