She turned right and led Milly and Peter into the back hallway. They followed (too) closely behind and made too much noise. There was a door at the end, sunlight filtering in through a security window. She reached it and looked out, past the sidewalk and at the buildings across the street. Large trees encircled the town in the near distance. Figures — men and women, and some children — moved along the sidewalks.
She looked back at Peter, then Milly. They were watching her anxiously.
“We’re going to walk out of here like we belong,” she said. “Act normally. Walk normally. You belong here. Don’t draw attention to yourselves, but don’t look away from anyone, either. Got it?”
They nodded back.
“If anyone calls your name, respond,” Gaby continued. “You’re doing what you’re supposed to do — going about your business.”
“Okay,” Peter said.
“Got it,” Milly nodded.
“I don’t see any vehicles except the ones the guards drive,” she said to Peter.
“There aren’t that many still left in town,” Peter said. “There are a couple of trucks and some ATVs parked near the administrative building.”
“Can we get to them?”
“I don’t see how. Besides you, those are the only places they actually guard.”
She could see it in Peter’s eyes again. It was the question that had been going through his mind: “What’s so special about you?”
But he didn’t voice it, and she was glad. Gaby didn’t feel like explaining her relationship with Josh. It was complicated. “See, there’s this guy, and he’s in love with me, but he has a really screwed up way of showing it.”
It sounded messed up even in her head.
“What about the horses?” Gaby asked. “I’ve seen them around.”
“There’s a stable on the south side, but there are people watching it. They’re not armed, but I don’t think they’re just going to give the animals to us.”
“They won’t have a choice.”
“Can you really just shoot them?”
She stared at him, wondering if the shock on his face was real. “Yes,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t want to do that,” Peter said, and shook his head. “Can’t we find another way?”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“I want to leave this town, but not if I have to kill to do it.”
“You bashed Mac’s head in pretty good upstairs.”
He flinched. “That was different. He’s one of the guards, and it was necessary. These other people…they’re not dangerous.”
She could see the conflict on his face, and he reminded her very much of Nate.
Where are you, Nate? Are you dead? Are you out there somewhere? Are you one of those things now, lurking in the darkness?
“All right,” she said. “Then we’ll have to go on foot.” She looked back down the hallway. “The highway is back there.”
“The interstate,” Peter nodded.
“Then what’s on this side?”
“The farms, woods, and Hillman’s Lake, where they get the water.”
“And beyond that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never gone past the lake. I don’t think anyone has except the guards.”
Gaby took a breath. Milly smiled back at her, looking strangely confident in what they were about to do. Gaby couldn’t fathom what was going through the kid’s head at the moment. The last thing she was feeling was confidence. She wanted to escape, but she always thought she’d only have herself to take care of. Dragging a thirty-something guy and his, well, whatever it was Milly was to him, was never part of the plan.
Finally, she nodded. “All right. Remember: You belong here. Act normal.”
“Normal,” Peter said. “Right.”
She turned back around, opened the door, and stepped outside into the bright sun, gripping the AK-47 tightly in front of her, forefinger sliding comfortably close to the trigger.
Seeing and feeling the warmth of the sun from her apartment window (prison cell) was one thing; actually being outside walking under it was another. She had forgotten how freeing and comforting the daylight was. Even with all the potential dangers around her, Gaby couldn’t help but take a moment to soak in the clean air.
The first sound that reached her after stepping out onto the sidewalk was loud hammering from across the street. A dozen men were carefully lowering a large rectangular sign — a gaudy monstrosity featuring a woman lying on her side, barely clothed — to waiting hands below them. There was a second, plainer sign leaning against the building with writing that read: “Housing #14.”
Other buildings around her were being similarly repurposed, their old signs either already redone or in the process of being replaced. They seemed to be working from right to left, probably depending on what they needed. With the constant arrival of new five-ton transport trucks on a regular basis, she imagined they had dozens, maybe even hundreds, of new people in need of homes every day.
Salvation comes at a price. Your blood. Your soul. Your future.
I’d rather die first.
“Let’s go,” she said quietly.
They started up the sidewalk, making a beeline for the end of the street. The road curved left out of town, but the tree line in front of her beckoned, promising safety within the woods beyond. Gaby set a calm, almost leisurely pace, smiling and nodding and exchanging looks with everyone they passed. No one wore uniforms, which helped to set her mind somewhat at ease, and she allowed herself to lessen the pressure against the AK-47’s trigger.
She expected to see men on horseback, but there were none. Instead, the streets and sidewalks were filled with civilians. Men, women, and children. And pregnant women. It wasn’t hard to pick them out of the crowd. There were a lot of them.
“How many pregnant women are in town?” she asked Peter.
“A lot,” he said. “Over a hundred. There are more women here than men. I asked around, and it’s the same in all the other towns.”
She could see for herself that he was right. For every man or boy she saw, there were at least two females. Some pregnant, others not. And there was something else she noticed: They were all young and healthy.
Perfect birth-giving age. To squeeze out babies for the monsters.
Gaby’s mood darkened.
I’d rather die first…
“Peter!” a female voice shouted.
Gaby looked over as a woman in her twenties walked briskly across the street toward them. She was slim and attractive, with long black hair that fell all the way to her waist. She wore a white one-piece dress and beamed at the sight of Peter. Gaby searched for the telltale signs of a baby bump, but there wasn’t one.
“Hey, Anna,” Peter said, smiling back at the woman.
“Where you off to?” Anna asked.
“Um, to the lake.”
“What’s going on at the lake?”
Peter glanced at Gaby, and she could see him struggling for an answer. Lying, apparently, didn’t come easily to Peter.
“They wanted me to look at some plants they found,” he said. “To see if they’re edible.”
The woman stopped in front of them, and bright green eyes settled on Gaby. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Gaby said.
“I haven’t seen you around before. Did you just arrive?”
“You know everyone in town?” Gaby asked, injecting just enough annoyance into her voice to let the woman know it wasn’t her job to question her. She was, after all, the one wearing a uniform (or at least, Mac’s boots and jacket) and holding a rifle.