Free Gated by Amy Christine Parker Page B

few more minutes? Nothing’s even happening yet. They could’ve let us in.” Brian glances at the entrance to the Silo, but there’s no hope in his face. He knows that his questions don’t matter anymore. We all want a different answer than the one we’ve got. We want a way to make things okay.
    Will lets out a hard laugh. “You think so? What’s Pioneer’s first rule? Huh? When that door shuts, it doesn’t open again for five years until the Brethren come for us. For any reason. We all knew that.”
    I can’t look at any of them. I want to blame each of them for this. Marie convinced me to break the rules. Will and Brian made that stupid ladder. I didn’t even want to go in the first place. If we’d been where we should’ve been—in bed—we’d be safe right now. These thoughts settle into my chest and expand until I’m afraid that I can’t keep them to myself. But what good will it do to start yelling at them now?
    Marie is sniffling loudly. She’s cried herself out for now. She’s leaning into Brian and he’s holding her arms with his hands as if he can keep her from falling to pieces this way. Will isn’t holding me and I don’t want him to. What I want is to run, or grab Indy and race out onto the prairie, try to get ahead of the destruction, but I don’t know which way it’ll come from. So I stand still and wait.
    Bang!
    Every other minute or two, Will kicks or pounds at the door. There’s no rhyme or reason to what sets him off, but each time he starts back up, the rest of us jump.
    “Could you quit doing that?” I finally snap, because if he doesn’t stop soon, I might go crazy.
    Will shoots me a look and I stiffen because now I’ve managed to direct all of his anger at me instead of at the door. He shouts, “What should I do? Give up? Just stand here and look stupid like the rest of you?”
    “Ease up, Will,” Brian warns.
    “No, I’m not gonna ease up. Unless you have a better idea—in which case, I’m all ears. Tell me what you think we should do.” He glares at Brian and then at me. When his eyes meet mine, his face softens just a little.
    “All right, look, I just can’t … stop … I mean … They locked us out. They left us to die.” He takes a few steps away from the door and yells, “
Nothing’s
happening! Open the door!”
    “They don’t know that,” Brian says quietly. “They have no way of knowing from down there—or of hearing us. And you said it yourself, even if they did, they wouldn’t open it.”
    “Well, then we have to make them hear, make them change their minds,” Will shouts before turning to rush past us and away from the orchard.
    “Where’s he going?” Marie wails, and Brian closes his eyes like he’s about a half second shy of losing his patience.“Pull it together, babe, please? Look at Lyla. She’s not freaking out.”
    I’m not?
    I haven’t given any thought to how I seem to everyone else, because I feel like my insides have gone all loose and jiggly inside my skin [nsi">I hav. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I still can’t quite believe that it has. We’re supposed to be in the Silo. We’re supposed to be part of the future, not still-breathing relics of the past. I wrap my arms around my body to try to physically hold myself together.
    Marie is just beginning to quiet down as Will charges back down the path toward us with an ax, his eyes targeting the shelter door. He raises the ax over his head and we all duck as if somehow he’ll hit us by mistake even though we’re nowhere near him. He swings the ax at the door. It connects with the iron and makes an impressive sound before it bounces off. The ax handle vibrates in Will’s hands and he curses as he almost drops it. But then he’s swinging it at the sides of the door, striking at the cement walls on either side. He’s grunting and yelling and swinging over and over again, but making very little progress. He sort of reminds me of one of those Looney Tunes