Article 5 (Article 5 #1)(20)

“There’s no other way? No holes in the fence? No other exits?”

She shrugged helplessly. “The guards walk the perimeter every hour. The only way out is through the front gates. And there’s a watch station there, and guards that search the vehicles.”

“No one has ever escaped?” I asked in disbelief.

Rebecca curled in over her midsection. When she spoke again, her voice sounded small, as if she were years younger.

“One girl did, right after I got here. She made it over the fence and into the woods, but it was snowing so badly she died of hypothermia. Brock made the soldiers bring her body into the cafeteria to show us what would happen if we tried to run away. She was all black and blue and…” Rebecca shook her head as if to clear the memory. “That was when Brock okayed the orders for the guards to shoot anyone who got too close to the fence.”

I flinched, thinking of how crushing it would feel to gain freedom only to lose it.

“Only three people have made a decent run for it since then, and they’ve all been killed. No one tries for a long time after something like that happens. If you’re crazy enough, you’ll be the first since Katelyn.”

The realities of my intentions were rooting deep in my gut. If I ran, I had to face the possibility that I might not survive, and if I died, it would most likely be violently. But if I stayed, I wouldn’t know if my mother was being beaten or thrown in prison or shot.

Entrapment. I had two choices. And both were bad.

“You know, if you age out, they don’t legally have to look for you,” she told me.

I couldn’t wait until I turned eighteen, but something in her voice told me she wasn’t talking about me.

“Is that why you and Sean haven’t run?”

She nodded. “I’ll be safe in three months. But if he ever decides to leave, the FBR could kill him.”

So she was staying of her own choice. To protect a soldier.

I shook my head skeptically. “They wouldn’t kill one of their own.”

“You’re wrong. The Board would give him a trial. If he goes AWOL and they catch him, they’ll execute him. That’s the way things are now. If you don’t think they’d do it, remember why you’re here.”

As the air stilled between us, my thoughts branched into a dangerous place. If Sean could be executed, could my mother? It seemed improbable, but not impossible.

I needed to get out. Soon.

*



TWO nights passed before Sean figured out a plan.

We were in class, reading a handout entitled “A Lady’s Dress Code” when he caught my eye. A slight nod of his head, and without hesitation I raised my hand to request an escort to the restroom. Before the Sister could ask Randolph take me, Sean had stepped forward and was holding the door open to usher me down the hall.

Once we were away from the others, he quickly told me that the headmistress had given him orders to cover for another soldier preparing to take leave, which meant a double shift of his normal perimeter sweep. When this happened, he would lead me to the fence and look the other way as I climbed over.

It sounded simple but was far from problem-free. First, it was still eight days away. Second, I was on my own after I got past the fence, which meant roughly four hours and fifteen miles of walking through the Appalachian wilderness alone. And third, once I got to the nearest gas station, I would have to hitch a ride home, which meant I’d have to find a willing civilian with a car who didn’t care about gas money.

“You’d better book it,” Sean advised. “Once they figure out you’re gone, they’ll come looking. I won’t be able to do anything then.”

I nodded, and though the swelling in my throat had gone down, I felt a new lump emerge. It was a terrible plan, but it was all I had. He looked at me for a long while, as though surprised that I was really considering this. I couldn’t tell whether he thought I was brave or stupid. Probably the latter.

“It’ll be better for everyone if you just wait until you age out, Miller.”

“I can’t wait,” I told him firmly. “Not knowing she could be in a place like this.”

His expression was bleak. I asked if he knew anything more about my mother, and he denied it. I wondered if there was more to this than he was letting on, but as we were already on a fine line, I let it go. I didn’t have enough dirt on him to risk what he’d already offered. And ultimately, the guy with the gun calls the shots.

So I waited.

*



ROSA returned the following afternoon. She sat beside me in silence during Brock’s session on social etiquette. There were no snide jokes, no cocky, gap-between-her-two-front-teeth grins. Her eyes, resting atop half-moon bruises from Randolph’s fist, were no longer rebellious, but bland. Vacant. She was as empty as the girl we’d seen after we’d first arrived.

There was no question in my mind now that the scream I’d heard when I’d been in the clinic had been Rosa in the shack. When I asked Rebecca about it, she remained vague. Spooky, she called it. That’s all. But I was frightened.

In the days that followed, I did what I could to be inconspicuous. I was polite when forced into awkward social interactions with the staff and the girls, and I followed the rules. I didn’t show my frustration or pain when my clumsy, distended hands dropped things, or when I couldn’t close my fist to hold a pencil. I didn’t attract any attention, and in that way, I let Brock think that she’d won.