Born by Tara Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

summer."
    The reference makes me flinch, as my
granny's face flashes across my mind.
    "When dad died Will took care of us,
but he wasn't a survivor. It wasn’t his fault. Dad let them play." I can
hear the tears filling her face, "When Will got taken I was eleven. Jake
has tried but he's, well he's a moron."
    I look back out into the yard, "He's
amazing Anna. He's still full of the things we've all lost. He smiles and
laughs and sings. I heard him humming the other day and I almost shot him
myself and then I realized I haven’t hummed since I was nine years old."
My skin shivers when I think about spying on him humming. I couldn’t take my
eyes off of him.
    "He's a goof. We will travel
together Em."
    I look back harshly, "He will die if
we make him travel. Those red lines are blood poisoning and once they reach his
heart he's dead. I will go and you will stay and keep him safe."
    I am risking my life for him. I feel like
I am back at the cabin door and she is knocking. I am going to regret this
decision.
    "I'll leave tonight. You will have
to keep Leo with you. He can help you."
    Her voice is small, "I can't ask
this of you."
    It's my turn to smile bitterly,
"Guess you'll have to trust me."
    I stare out into the night, it's peaceful
and quiet. It scares me more than anything suddenly.
    I feel my jaw tense, "If I'm not
back in three days you'll have to cut the leg off and clot it. Don't give him
liquor before you cut it off, it thins the blood and he will bleed out.
Clotting is done with a hot iron. You press it against the stump where the leg
bleeds to seal the veins."
    I don't look at her. I can't. "The
red lines means he has a week at the most. He will need tons of soup and water
and rest. He can fight it somewhat with those things." I stand, "I'll
leave tonight."
    My leg aches at the thought of leaving.
    The barn feels less scary with her in it
and I realize my whole life feels that way.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    I don't look back. I know he's watching
me. I can't bear to see the look on his face. His eyes will haunt me forever.
I've never left him before. He's always part of whatever I undertake. He waits
in the woods while I raid houses, but he's there. This is the first time I turn
my back on him and I don’t know if I will be back.
    I just put one foot in front of the
other.
    When the sun rises I am in the middle of
nowhere. I walk and listen to the music of the birds. The sun is above me and
hot. Spring isn’t like it was when I was little. It's warm and muggy now. I
know I'm about halfway. Lost in the trail and thought I hear something I
haven’t heard in a long time, a buzz. I follow the noise to a hive. It's small
and only half built but it makes me hopeful. If the bees aren’t dead like I
feared they would be, maybe there is hope. I haven’t seen a bee since before.
    I look at the small hive. Humans could do
that. We could rebuild. If we stopped trying to be on top, we could stand a
chance. I watch the busy bees for a moment and turn back to the trail. It isn’t
a real trail. It's just a direction I walked once before.
    The sun sets, making me tired. I've
walked nearly twenty-four hours. I climb a huge tree and lay against the trunk,
in one of the high up branches. I close my eyes for a minute.
    Flashes fill my head instantly.
    My father is pushing me along the road.
Cars and trucks fill the freeway. People sit in them still, but my dad doesn’t
think we have enough time to get out. He has waited for this day his whole
life.
    "Em we need to get to high ground
and we need to get away from these people." His fingers bite into my back,
poking it.
    "Dad maybe we should go back to
granny's." My voice is small, compared to the noise from the masses.
    "No. Run faster Em. We need to
run." He is in front and dragging me up a grassy hill. My little legs
hurt. He's made me workout and run since I can remember, but it's late and I'm
tired.
    I think a bad thought. It's a thought I
will regret always. His erratic