Dark Parties (23 page)

Braydon’s looking for another exit, but the trees create a barrier around us. Braydon edges to the left. It’s the wrong angle
to get us safely over the lip of the road, but I’ve got to trust him. He steers the bike to the right. We are airborne for
a moment and then slam down to the ground. It’s only by Braydon’s strength and skill that we manage to stay upright. We slow
down as we weave our way through the forest. The uneven ground jostles us. I bounce out of sync with Braydon. The trees are
so close that I can almost feel their rough bark on my skin. I look behind us. The white van has stopped on the road. Maybe
we are safe.

The obstacle course ahead seems impossible, but Braydon twists and turns us. We bounce over the ground, lined
with tree roots. My head snaps back and forth with every jolt. I hold tighter to Braydon. We are well away from the road.
The bike is slowing down at an alarming rate. The chase must have drained the battery. We roll to a stop.

I hop off the bike. “That was…” I start but can’t find the words. “You were…” My legs falter underneath me. Braydon drops
the bike and rushes to me.

We scan our surroundings, ears burning to hear the crack of a twig or the pounding of feet. But there’s only a cool, eerie
silence.

He pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. I can hear his heart pounding. My heart feels as if it’s reaching for his
in heavy, hard beats.

He rests his head on mine. “We can’t stay here.”

“We’ve got to be close.”

“Yeah, and they know we’re here. They might come looking for us. Neva, I think we should go back to the highway. We didn’t
think this through.”

“We can’t go back now.”

“I agree.”

I cock my head, confused. He picks up the bike and checks it out as he talks. “We’ve got one battery. We can keep heading
north. It’s nearly deserted up there. We can camp out in the woods, live off the land for a while. Braydon and Neva can disappear
forever.” He’s removing weeds from the engine and battery.

I let his proposal sink in. I wouldn’t be the Minister of Ancient History’s daughter. He wouldn’t be my best friend’s boyfriend.
Until this moment, I never imagined a future,
not a future that makes my heart lighten the way Braydon’s idea does.

He raises his eyebrows. “What do you say?”

I want to say yes more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I’m silent.

“We should get moving,” he says when he sees my indecision. “I’ve got to change the battery and then you need to decide.”

I watch him hook up the new battery. I let myself think about a life of only Braydon and me. I try to imagine living in the
wild, in a place the government has abandoned. No one watching us or telling us what to do.

But then I think of Sanna. I see her face when she caught Braydon and me kissing. The look of confusion and then despair.
I can’t abandon Sanna, but I’m not sure I’m strong enough to rescue her either. It doesn’t feel like there’s a choice. When
he’s finished, black grease is smeared on his cheek. He seems to have lost his polish. Even his red boots don’t seem as shiny.

When we climb on the bike, I desperately want to tell him to drive north and keep going. It’s probably the smartest thing
to do. We have a better chance of survival if we run away. But I can’t. “We can’t leave without Sanna.” I could never be happy
knowing I abandoned her.

His shoulders sag. “I don’t see how this can end in any way that means we’ll be together. We’ve got this chance to start over,
to leave everything behind.”

He’s right. We won’t be together. If we go after Sanna, the government will come after us. If we somehow manage to
free her, then she’ll need Braydon more than ever. If we get home again—which seems like a very big if—I have an invitation
to a new life outside the Protectosphere.

“I can’t abandon Sanna,” I say softly.

“We may not find her. And if”—he pauses and raises his voice—“if we find her, we might not be able to rescue her.”

“We’ve got to try,” I say, and hug his back. He starts the engine. We slowly drive up one of the hills that surrounds us.
Maybe we’ll be able to see where we are and where Sanna might be. The hill is steep and we have to walk the bike to the very
top. He lays the bike on its side.

The forest goes on forever, but at the base of the hill in the middle of this valley is a huge, square brick structure with
a lush green courtyard in the middle. It looks like an old manor house. I can see shapes that must be people milling around.
It’s hard to tell what they are doing, but their pace is slow. Beyond the main structure is a square building with no windows.
It could be a barn. Four dark figures orbit the building, security guards, no doubt. It has to be the Women’s Empowerment
Center. If it weren’t for the security guards traveling a well-worn pattern, this place wouldn’t look sinister at all.

Women’s Empowerment Center. It doesn’t sound so horrible.
Empowerment
isn’t a bad word.
Women
has become the word that isn’t so great recently. Being female makes you more likely to disappear. What are they doing to
these women? Brainwashing them? Making them accept that the greatest gift they can give their country is children? They wouldn’t
torture them, right? They want them healthy
so they can return to society, find partners, and make babies.

We notice movement on the gravel road leading to the cluster of buildings. It’s the white van. Braydon and I instinctively
duck. From our crouched position, we can see the van pull around to the far side of the building and park. We shift so we
are sitting. Five people exit from the back of the van. They disappear behind the building. We watch for a while longer.

“It’s getting dark,” Braydon says. I hadn’t noticed. “We can’t do anything tonight. Let’s find someplace to sleep and then
figure out our next steps tomorrow.”

He leads me and the bike down the hill. We almost don’t notice it because it’s made of forest trees and covered in brown,
dying shrubs. It’s a small wooden shack. “You stay here. I’ll go check it out,” he says.

I’m too exhausted to argue. The shack is only a little taller than Braydon. He waves me forward after a few minutes. Once
we and the bike are safely inside, I realize there is no roof. There are beams crisscrossing from wall to wall but nothing
between us and the Protectosphere. There are no windows and only one door with a huge plank that rests in a solid latch. Braydon
secures the lock. “I think we’ll be safe here for the night,” he says, and begins to empty the contents of my duffel bag,
which has been tied to the back of the bike. He hands me a piece of cheese and a hunk of bread. We’ve been sipping water from
his canteen all day. There’s only a little left. We are too tired to talk. We eat standing up on opposite sides of the shack.

The floor is overgrown with weeds that in places nearly reach my knees. Braydon stomps them flat and spreads a blanket on
the floor. I take off my jacket. It feels as if it’s molded to me with sweat. He turns his back to me, carefully slides off
his boots and lies down. My skin is damp and the night air is cold. I shiver. He pats the place next to him. I stretch out
beside him. The dry grass and weeds crunch beneath me.

We are afraid to touch. We stare up at the sliver of moon, the only thing keeping us from being shrouded in complete darkness.
It feels as if we are at the end of everything. My fear of the dark is trumped by a million other fears.

“Neva,” he whispers, and rolls on his side, facing me. It’s a question and a plea all wrapped tightly in my name. He lowers
his face to mine. I kiss him tenderly on the lips, giving him my answer. We kiss with eyes wide open. I want to see and feel
this moment.

He pulls away painfully slowly. I follow, not wanting to lose touch. His hands explore my body. His eyes follow his touch
and he works his way down, removing each piece of clothing and then kissing my bare skin. He lingers at my tattoo. I cover
it with my hand, suddenly embarrassed. He laces his fingers through mine.

I feel as if I’m imploding and exploding. I don’t want to be scared anymore. But I am. I’m terrified of what might happen
next. I want him to stop, but I’m equally terrified of stopping and never feeling this way again.

“Are you okay, Neva?”

I kiss him, maneuvering him until he’s on his back. Now I
undress him with trembling fingers. Our bodies are pressed together. I can’t get close enough to him. There’s a rhythm to
our passion. Our hands, our lips flow instinctively over each other’s bodies.

I want desperately to break our vow, but something keeps us from crossing the line. We don’t speak. We both know breaking
the vow means letting the government in, and tonight there’s only Braydon and me.

I open my eyes, but my body is still heavy with sleep. Braydon is draped over me like a blanket. We are lying in shade, but
the sun is shining brightly. I stare at him for a long time, wanting to recapture last night. In the harsh light of day, I
see my best friend’s boyfriend and someone I barely know lying naked next to me. But that’s not how it felt last night.

I can’t change what happened. If I’m honest, I don’t want to. I won’t regret it. I’ll keep those memories trapped in a bubble
away from labels of good and bad and right and wrong.

I slip out of his grasp and dress quickly. I lift the latch a millimeter at a time. Braydon has rolled over and wrapped himself
in the blanket. His bare shoulders and feet are exposed. I feel a rush of the emotions we shared last night. My life is divided
into before and after our kiss in the dark.

I have two more days. One day to save Sanna, and tomorrow at midnight I can escape. If I have any hope of succeeding, I need
to take it one moment at a time. I retrace our steps to the top of the hill. I watch the buildings in the valley for a long
time. I notice how people move in and out of the main building. I figure out how the guards patrol. A dark car with what I
think is the crest of Homeland pulls up. A man in black delivers what looks like a cooler and then drives away.

I hear steps behind me. I turn to see Braydon walking toward me. His hair is sticking up on one side and his faced is creased
from sleep. I realize I must look as equally disheveled. He slips his arms around my waist. We sway slightly as if moved by
the gentle morning breeze. He kisses me. “You okay?”

I nod.

We are cheek to cheek. “What’s the plan?” he asks. “I can practically see the cogs turning.”

It’s funny to feel his jaw forming words against my face. I put my hand on his cheek and hold him there. I have been thinking.
I know the first part of a plan, but the middle is going to have to be down to a little luck and a lot of improvisation.

“Absolutely not,” he says when I’ve explained as much
of a plan as there is. “I should be taking the risk. I won’t let you do it.” He breaks the connection between us.

“This is a place where they take women. I can blend in. And”—I swallow—“if I get caught”—I talk faster. I can see his face
getting redder—“It won’t happen. I won’t let it, but if I do, you can tell my parents. My mom won’t leave me here.”

“What are you thinking?” He raises his voice and it feels too loud.

“I’ve got to do this, Braydon.” I survey the Women’s Empowerment Center, nestled in the valley below us. I think of my grandma
and my mom. Of Sanna and her mother. Senga and her three daughters. “I’m doing this with or without you. But I have a better
chance of success if we work together.”

We stare out over the treetops. I lean into him and we are kissing again. But this kiss isn’t passionate like last night.
It’s sad and tender, a long good-bye. I pull away slowly. I can’t give in to this now.

“Okay, let’s go over this again,” I say when I find my voice. We run through my plan over and over and over. I’ll be ready.
I can do this.

Braydon runs up the hill. The sun is setting and flickers in the trees behind him. “Okay, Neva, the van’s on its way.” He
collapses at my feet, panting. He found a vantage point on a nearby hill that let him see the main road. He’s run all the
way to alert me. We went over and over the plan. We
didn’t talk about anything except details and possibilities and worked out everything we could think of.

“I guess this is it.”

He hugs me. “We can still walk away. We don’t have to go through with it.”

I can’t let him make me emotional or frightened. There’s so much we both want to say tangled in the air between us. I kiss
him one last time and race away.

I watch the guards from a little way up the hill. I time it just right and sneak behind the barnlike building. I hear shouting.

I look toward the space where I left Braydon. A finger of black smoke winds its way skyward. Our plan has been set in motion,
and so far everything is going as we envisioned. Braydon set a fire to distract the guards. I flatten myself against the wooden
building and count: one, two, three, four, five guards charge up the hill. That’s all the guards on perimeter duty. My thoughts
shift to Braydon. I pray that he’s okay. He was supposed to set the fire and then drive a safe distance and wait for some
signal from me.