Internment(36)

I barely register David’s words. Hearing his voice is thrilling and heartbreaking at the same time. Then I’m slapped with the realization of what I’ve done—the ridiculous risk I’ve asked him to take by coming here. It’s not worth it. I don’t know what I was thinking. “David. I love you so much. But I was wrong to ask you. You can’t come. It’s dangerous. Impossible. We don’t have visitors.”

“Layla, we’ll figure out a way. Remember when I said this wasn’t going to be the end of you and me? I meant it. I’m with you. Always. Is there someplace we can meet without anyone knowing?”

“David, I don’t know. There are guards and cameras everywhere. There are drones flying patterns above the camp. There’s no place they can’t see us.”

“Is there anyone on your side who could help?”

I hesitate. “I’m not sure. Maybe I could ask Corporal Reynolds.”

“Corporal Reynolds?”

“Don’t freak out. He’s a guard here. He’s the one who got me the phones to call you. He’s helping me.”

“Layla, that seems dangerous. Are you sure he’s not trying to trap you?”

“I don’t think he’d go to all this trouble to turn me in. I mean, they don’t need reasons to take you away in this place.”

“Jesus. Fuck. I can’t believe this is the world now.”

“Tell me about it. I trust him, David. I mean, as much as it’s possible to trust a stranger in the camp—a guard. I think my gut is right about him.”

“If you trust him, I do, too. Please be careful. I love you, Layla.”

I hear a bell ring in the background. I would do anything to be at school right now, back to the way things were. To the Before. Not now, in the endlessly painful After.

“I’ll figure something out. I’ll call you, or maybe I can ask him to. Either way, see you tomorrow? Maybe? I hope?”

“I love you forever. And I will see you tomorrow.”

This might be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had; it’s definitely the chanciest. But we’ve made the choice. The only direction now is forward.





My hands shake as I pull on my black hoodie. I guess it’s my official sneak-out uniform now. David is here. Close. So close. I pray that nothing goes wrong. Corporal Reynolds agreed to help me. To help us. I’m pretty sure he feels bad about all this. He should. And on the outside, I might care that I’m using his sympathy or guilt to get him to conspire with me, but what other choice do I have?

I tiptoe out of the trailer. It’s a little past midnight. I have to get to the rock garden on my own. There are no guards outside, like Corporal Reynolds told me. I stick close to the Mercury Homes, avoiding the searchlights. They travel across the camp in a pattern. So I count the seconds and run from shadow to shadow. My heart races, pounding in my ears. And my skin is covered in goose bumps. The logical part of my brain is screaming at me to stop, to go back to the trailer. But I don’t stop. I can’t.

Corporal Reynolds is waiting for me at the garden. When he sees me, he puts his hand up, telling me to wait. A beam of light passes inches from where he is. Then he beckons to me to hurry.

“I sent the guards at this end away. And a buddy rerouted the drones, but you have five minutes. Tops. You hear me?” His voice is tight. Strained. And his face looks stricken, but I’m not sure by what. “The Director is off-site today. That’s why I was able to redirect a few things. But don’t think you’re safe. Not even with me by your side. Not for a second. Do you understand?”

I nod. I hear the weight of his words—how serious he is about what he’s saying. But I can’t feel them. My only emotion right now is a giddy elation because David is here. Here. In this place. Where I thought everyone had forgotten us. But Corporal Reynolds is staring at me with expectant eyes. My halfhearted nod isn’t enough. “I get it, Corporal Reynolds. I’m in danger all the time.”

“Yes. You are. And like I said before, call me Jake. I think it’s fair to say I’ve crossed the guard line, here.”

“Jake? Thank you,” I whisper. Before I realize what I’m doing, I put my hand on his arm, a tiny spontaneous gesture of thanks that startles both of us. I pull my hand away.

Jake points across the Midway to a red metal toolshed at the back. There’s a jeep parked next to it. We hurry toward it, not saying a word, but I’m utterly certain the drumming of my heart is echoing through the canyon.

Jake stops me at the door and hands me a flashlight. “Remember what I said: five minutes. Keep your ears open. If you hear my voice at all, don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Don’t come out. I’ll open the door when it’s safe. Got it?”

I nod. And put my hand on the doorknob.

“Layla,” Jake whispers, “there are no cameras in there. But speak softly.”

I push open the door. It’s so dark inside.

“Layla.” It’s him. It’s his voice.

I turn on the flashlight, and David steps toward me and wraps me in his arms. I cry into his shirt, and he holds me tighter. It feels so good to be held by him. Is it possible to miss something even more while you’re experiencing it? Then we kiss. It’s slow and soft and lovely, and makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time. For one perfect moment, the entire world disappears.