Free Gated by Amy Christine Parker Page A

we’ll get to the Silo in time.
    “Go faster, you stupid piece of crap!” Will hollers.
    We’re halfway through the development now, almost to the stables. Some of the animals are in the fields beyond it. Several of the horses lift their heads as we pass. Their ears are flicking back and forth like they can’t figure out what all the fuss is about. I give them one last long look. I wish I could find Indy, put my hand on his nose, and feelhis steamy breath on my fingers one more time, but it’s too late for that now. My eyes are wet with tears, but I don’t bother to wipe them away. Will slams on the brake and we throw ourselves out of the cart and toward the clump of apple trees that disguise the entrance to the Silo.
    Will makes it to the door first. It’s set into a low hill in the center of the trees. I don’t have to catch up to know that it’s already locked up tight. Will’s head is in his hands and he’s on his knees in the grass. Brian and Sss. Marie come up behind us. When they see Will, Marie loses what’s left of her composure. She runs up to the reinforced steel door and pounds it with her fists.
    “Let us in! Please, let us in! Don’t do this!”
    She screams and pounds and none of us say a word. They can’t hear her. To the people beyond the door, we are already dead.

If a man is too confident in his salvation, he’ll lose his passion for it.
—Pioneer
     

     
    Once Marie gives up and stops pounding, the world settles into an eerie quiet, holding its breath. I’m not breathing either. I don’t think any of us are. I look up at the sky, search for some sign of smoke or fire or both. What’ll happen first? Solar flares? Pioneer’s never been very specific about what exactly will kick things off. Maybe it’ll be the earth. It could shake and crumble and erupt all at once like a bomb that folds in on itself rather than out. A minute goes by. I clench my fists and try to be still so I can listen.
    No one talks.
    No one moves.
    Two minutes.
    Still nothing happens.
    I’m sweaty and chilled and panicked to the point of immobility. What do we do? There’s no place to hide out here that’ll be safe. Our only option is sealed off and just beneath us. It’s maddening that we’re this close, but we might as well be one hundred miles away for all the good itdoes us. I need to move, run out into the field, to do something, but I can’t. There’s nothing we can do now. Nothing.
    “Please God, please God, please God.” I’ve been muttering these words under my breath without really realizing that I’m doing it. They startle me. I’m praying and it isn’t to the Brethren. It’s like a reflex reaction that I didn’t know that I had. In my panic, am I hoping Noah’s god will take pity on me, since I’m pretty sure that Pioneer won’t? But don’t I already know how Noah’s god answered the prayers of those left outside the ark, those wicked unbelievers? He let them drown. And it makes sense. They disobeyed his command. If Noah’s god exists, why would he take pity on us?
    My pleas should be to the Brethren. We’re their chosen people. At least we were before today. But maybe we aren’t anymore.
    “What d-d-d-do we d-d-d-do now?” Marie stutters in between wails, her face contorted with fear.
    “I don’t know. I … I tried, but … I don’t know,” Will says, more to himself than to her. He sinks down onto his knees and puts his face in his hands.
“Why?”
he hollers at the ground.
“Why?”
    “I can’t die. Not like this. We’re supposed to be inside. They left us. They just left us,” I mumble, but no one’s listening.
    Marie’s crying gets louder and she starts shaking. Her tears collect along her chin before they drip onto her shirt. She looks up at the sky and opens her mouth to saysomething more, but she can’t get the words out, she’s hiccupping and cryin V di9;the sg too hard.
    “They have to know that we’d be close by. Why couldn’t they’ve waited a