SAFE by Dawn Husted Read Free Book Online

if the shuddering
was coming from the shaking of my own legs. I’d never actually felt an
earthquake. However, I didn’t see anything else moving around me, so I was
positive it was the latter. I didn’t let my knees give way, and held my position.
Unmoving and not showing this person any of the fear trapping me. My shoulders
sat firmly back and my head upright, sturdy, chin outward. My breathing was a
different story. I had to get it under control. I began counting numbers and solving
scientific equations in my head. Try to relax .
    Every
step this person took towards me, I focused more on my tedious thoughts. Seconds
passed, and I had already counted to fifty and solved two equations. My eyes
stayed focused. More seconds gone.
    He,
not she, was closer now, and I finally made out part of his appearance. He
looked plain, no lines. There were no vines covering his skin. But how was that
possible?
    Surely
my eyes were going as crazy as the thoughts running through my mind. I tried
rubbing the blurriness from them, and then regained my superior stance, arms
taught by my side.
    He
walked with his weight leaning more to one side, hobbling, favoring his right
leg. A wrap was tied around his left thigh where his pants looked as if they
had been torn off; his right leg still holding the entirety of the navy
material they were made from, the left shredded directly above the wrap.
Strings of thin fabric flung down over the rest of his skinny leg and dry blood
painted his skin like a backdrop to the fabric. His dark hair was an enormous
tangled mess, strewn about his head, sticking out in every direction.
    Now,
he was close enough for me to touch.
    My
eyes didn’t lie; there were no vines.
    His
body looked frail and his bony joints large, poking through his skin. Eyes
dark, unmoving, drilling deep into mine. He was old. Wrinkles creased around
the edges of his lips and eyes.
    I
stood still as he gradually sniffed the air around me. Then he turned his head and
looked into the car. He saw James. He jumped back, and then looked at me. The
expression on his face was unreadable. Angry? Lips together in a thin line,
eyebrows furrowed. His chest rose and he glanced at James again.
    I
didn’t know what else to do but ask, “Please, will you help us?” I uttered the
words quickly before my unavoidable death, which I was positive he had considered
carrying out. I looked down and noticed his left hand holding a small hatchet
with a sharp, shiny tip. His fingers grasped the hatchet tight, unyielding.
    He
responded to my question with a few low grunts and bent over into the car, pulling
James’ body out easily, and then he tossed his lifeless body over his shoulder—still
holding the hatchet with his left hand. Without any words, he turned around;
James’ blood trickled down the man’s back.
    I
quickly reached into the car and grabbed my backpack from the backseat and the
guard’s gun—not forgetting the severed fingers for their useful DNA. I stuffed the
digits into my pack, strapped the gun over my shoulder, and then sped up beside
the old man. I wasn’t sure if he was leading us into a trap, but I didn’t
really have a choice.
    He
was the first Lower I’d seen outside any mandatory Land meetings. In fact, I
never actually conversed with any of them—ever. I didn’t know what to expect.
The only thing I knew for sure was that there was a reason they lived all the
way out here on the outer edge—away from the Colony.
    I
walked behind the old man, not saying a word. He was silent as well.
    A
few feet from his house, I turned my head towards a rustling noise on my right,
but nobody was there—that I could see. A few more feet and we’d be on his
doorstep.
    The
man pushed the curtained entrance to the side. As I followed him in, the
interior was pitch black. I had walked into a place that made the outside seem
like there was plenty of light. I couldn’t see James or the old man. Suddenly, a
memory washed over me from when I was