The Cage by Megan Shepherd Read Free Book Online Page B

for him, but how could she not? She knew all too well the devastation of squealing brakes, tearing metal, burning plastic. She ran a finger across her lips, not sure how to convey the rush of sympathy she felt. She wanted to squeeze his hand. Press her cheek against his and whisper she was sorry. But her mother was still alive—how could she ever sympathize?
    “It must be hard not to have your dad around either,” she said at last. “But it’s a noble thing he’s doing, serving in the army.” She winced. She sounded like her dad on the campaign trail, not a friend.
    Lucky was quiet for a while, picking at his toes, but then he brushed his hair back and grinned. The tension broke. “Have a soft spot for soldiers, huh?”
    She smiled. “Of course.”
    “I was on my way to enlist when I woke up here. Just . . . saying.”
    His words slowly sank in, as her cheeks warmed.
    Was he flirting?
    He went back to picking at his toes. “My granddad didn’t want me to enlist, but there aren’t a lot of options for a kid like me. I wasn’t exactly academically gifted. Besides, if you get in at eighteen, you can retire by thirty-eight with a full pension. Thought I’d head to Hawaii after my service. Cash government checks and grow old on a beach somewhere with a girl and a guitar.”
    Cora perked up. “You play guitar?”
    He examined his left hand, flexing it slightly. “Not so much anymore.” He watched his tendons working, frowning like he was reliving some bad memory. “I busted my hand a few years ago. Got mad and punched a wall. But I still like strumming around, alone so no one can hear how bad it sounds. Music helps me make sense of things.”
    Cora’s heart squeezed. “Yeah, I . . . I know exactly what you mean.”
    Their eyes met, and she told herself not to look away. Her bleary eyes and tired muscles seemed to fade around him. At last she cleared her throat. “Maybe whoever put us here will fix your hand. Nok said her asthma was cured, and Rolf’s bad vision.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize we’d been taken by such thoughtful kidnappers.”
    She leaned into the pillow of his jacket, soaking up the smell of him lingering in the seams. “I think Nok’s tougher than she seems. She acts meek, but . . .” She paused. She’d caught Nok in a lie about her living situation in London, but Nok hadn’t struck Cora as dangerous or malicious. Just scared. And Cora wasn’t one to judge—she was keeping secrets of her own. “Anyway, I like her. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a girl friend.” She ran her finger over her chapped lips, regretting saying anything. “Please don’t ask why.”
    “I don’t care why.”
    She smiled. “You’re good at this, you know. Keeping everyone calm. You’ll be a good leader, in the army.”
    “Leader?” He snorted. “All the army teaches you is how to follow.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “You want to know how I really get the others to listen?”
    “Besides punching Leon in the face?”
    He smiled, ignoring the comment. “Chickens.”
    “Chickens?”
    He nodded solemnly. “My granddad bought a chicken farm after the war. Preferred their company to humans. They’re not so different from people. You’d be surprised.”
    “You’re serious?”
    He smiled in a self-conscious way that formed the hint of a dimple in his left cheek. “When laying hens get flustered by a dog or a hawk, you have to reassure them or they won’t produce. You put gentle pressure on their wings. Makes them feel safe. Not many people know this, but chickens are smart. They respond to a hierarchy. That’s where the whole idea of pecking order comes from.” His smile faded. “Whenever my granddad introduces new chickens to the flock, he plays them music. The same song over and over. It lulls them into complacency.”
    Cora pulled his leather jacket tighter around her shoulders uneasily. “You think whoever put us here is doing the same thing, with that