Dystopian Fantasy by Emily McKay

Author:Emily McKay [McKay, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780718197438
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2012-11-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lily

I hadn’t exactly been paying attention as we drove away from the Farm. I’d been too occupied by other things to look around at the tiny college town where the Farm was located. Now, with Carter asleep in the back, Joe driving, McKenna fidgeting in front of me, and Mel sitting stonelike beside me, I had nothing to look at except the scenery. I simply didn’t have the energy to try to make sense of Joe’s betrayal.

So instead, once I’d wiped the blood out of Mel’s hair, I stared blankly out the window, my eyes searching for any indication that life outside the Farm had continued. I saw no other cars on the road. No signs of life from the farmhouses we passed. The cotton fields were as overgrown as the manicured lawns of the quad had been. The cotton was still in its even rows, the bolls left to rot on the stalks. It had been planted last spring, in the very end of the Before, and no one had tended or harvested the fields. But I’d never been through this part of north Texas before and it was possible to pretend the sense of desolation was normal. With that lie firmly in my mind, I drifted off.

I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke, Joe had pulled the SUV to a stop and was cutting the engine. Blinking, I straightened in my seat. Mel’s eyes were closed, but I couldn’t tell if she was sleeping or not. Even asleep she never seemed fully relaxed. Carter must have woken earlier than I, because he’d crept between my seat and Mel’s and was leaning over the center console, talking to Joe in a hushed tone.

“… no,” he was saying, “but this isn’t what I expected, either.”

Joe mumbled a response. The only word I caught was “plan.”

Carter’s tone was irritated when he said, “We never said this was a foolproof plan. Sebastian promised to get you out. He did. Be glad it wasn’t me, or I might have left your ass outside the fence and let you fend for yourself.”

His response made me feel better—it was nice to pretend I had someone on my side. Part of me wanted to hear where their conversation was going, but McKenna must have realized I was awake, because she glanced over her shoulder at me before saying, “Are you sure that church thing really works?”

Carter looked back at me for a second before he shifted his weight and moved toward the bench seat.

It hadn’t been that long ago that I’d been freaking out at the side of the road and something about the way he looked at me now made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to losing it in front of other people. All alone in my room, sure. In front of family, maybe. In front of Carter, not so much. Why did my emotions always seem so close to the surface around him?

Pushing aside my awkwardness, I asked, “Where are we?”

“The parking lot of the Vidalou First Baptist Church.

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