The Letting (8 page)

“My country, my country, I do declare. My person, my body, I do swear.” The girls begin to join in, quietly.

“To give them to help you, and in return, you let me live happily noon ’til noon. I’m honored to do for you what I can, and in return, I do see your greater plan. My country, my country, how I love you. My country, my country, will see me through.”

When I look back at my campers, I notice Lulu is lagging behind. The Letting is affecting her way more than I thought it would.

“Lulu?” I ask, slowing my stride so she can catch up. “You don’t want to sing?” She just shakes her head no. “Still your stomach?”

“Yes.” Her voice is small, faint.

“Lulu, is this the first time you’ve ever eaten food like this?” I feel my own breakfast, heavy in my stomach.

She nods.

“I know. It hurts your stomach at first. Just give it some time. It’ll get better.”

Lulu looks up at me and smiles.

I can’t imagine what she’s going to do with the stuffed artichokes and beans for lunch, and the mandatory dinner of liver and spinach. The poor kid.

We make it down to the waterfront for our exercise. Luckily, today is as hot as yesterday, and although it’s uncomfortable, it means the girls won’t have to spend their night soaking in warm tubs to improve circulation. I step into the lake, ankle deep, and they follow. Tiny sunfish shoot by my feet and I wonder, just for a moment, what it would be like to be them, free to swim away from all my problems. Soon enough, all four girls are laughing and splashing; all four forgetting what tomorrow means. Tomorrow. But I can’t forget what tomorrow means. I sit on the gray beach at the edge of the water, feeling the dirty sand make its way into my cut-off denim shorts. I stand up and slide my shorts and tank top off, revealing a black one-piece swimsuit with an open back. It’s my only one, but I like this swimsuit. It allows me to move in the water, and sometimes I swim for miles.

The sun is strong, but not yet oppressive, and I bask in the feeling of the warmth on my body. I lean back and let the sun drench my entire being, feeling, momentarily, relaxed. Then something in the woods grabs my attention and like a shot, I am on my feet. Lulu watches me, as does Raven, but Lilly and Violet are oblivious to any change in me. Lulu and Raven watch me watching the woods.

“Ronnie?” Lulu asks.

“Shh,” I quiet her. Lilly and Violet join the other two girls, and the four of them huddle together, knee deep in the lake. I strain my eyes and my ears to see what or who is out there, but I see nothing. But I can’t shake this feeling there’s something…

One thing is certain, whoever or whatever it is would be unwelcome. There is no reason for Phoenix and his group to show themselves to these girls, so it may be a wild animal, or another small faction of rebels. I’m not taking any chances.

“Girls,” I speak in a hushed voice. “Let’s go up the hill. We’re changing our plan for today.” No matter how upbeat I try to sound, they know better.

Quickly, the four of them wrap themselves in towels and scurry up the hill as fast as possible. I am right behind, rushing them, but there is no way they can move fast enough to make me happy. My long legs would have me to the top of the hill in less than five minutes, but as a group, it will take us nearly fifteen.

Fifteen minutes is plenty long enough for a band of rebels to come and snatch up any one of these girls to sell her on the black market for private blood donations. I never really worried about it before. I was always careful, but I figured my girls were safe in my camp. Were safe with me. But since learning Phoenix and his gang are out there, so close to us, it’s feasible to think another group may be as well. And since I’ve learned I’m the biggest danger these girls face, well then, nothing is as I thought it was.

I scan the woods with every step I take, listening for a snap of a twig or the stomp of a footstep. I push my girls a bit harder. “Come on, girls. Let’s get that blood pumping.”

I’m trying not to scare them, but they are already terrified. The huddled mass that walks in front of me proves that. Looking at them, I think of Gretchen and me, all those years ago. How I thought we would always be lifelong best friends. How I could never have imagined she would become a traitor.

We make it to the top of the hill, and I have never been so happy to see our cabins. I exhale, a sense of peace finally winning out over panic.

“Okay, girls, how about a rest time?” Their limbs are still shaking, and I can tell they are genuinely frightened. I need to fix this.

“Girls,” I say, trying to regain control. “There is nothing to be scared of. Do you remember last night, when I told you to be quiet in case Margaret was nearby?”

Three of them nod. Raven just stares.

“Well, I thought I heard her today, too.” I know it’s a pitiful lie, but it’s all I have. “And if she has special orders for me, today, the day before your”—I stop myself midsentence—“our Letting, I need to hear them. That’s all.”

I speak as soothingly as possible. I hope at least a couple of them buy my excuse. I know Raven won’t, but I’m hopeful for the other three. “So, what do you think of some playtime in the cabin?”

The girls nod and head off to their cabin. I would love nothing more than to crawl into my own cabin and hide, maybe even fall asleep, but I know my adrenaline would never allow it. Besides, I can still feel something. Someone. And I need to get to the bottom of it. If we’re going to be attacked and raided, I had better be prepared.

I look around the campgrounds for a weapon of any kind, but I find we are abysmally unprepared. If Phoenix and his gang or an even more unscrupulous bunch were to come our way, I would have no way to stop them. In the past, I’ve lit fires to scare the rebels off, and none ever infiltrated our camp. But this is different. This time someone is on our turf. After more searching, I decide on a poker from an old, nonworking fireplace in the mess hall.

Armed with that, I begin to walk to the perimeter of the camp. I know this is a bad idea, but I also know I have to stop whoever is there. Maybe, just maybe, whoever it is will be happy with obtaining me, and leave the girls alone. The girls could very well survive the Letting tomorrow, and by the next time they are summoned, maybe Phoenix would have found a way to free them from their horrific fate.

As I walk on faster and faster, I know this is a completely inane thought, and if Phoenix, Gunnar, or Buzzcut are anywhere nearby, they may very well shoot me on the spot. But I have to know. After all of the years of being a closet danger myself, I now want to know when I am facing one.

I walk to a far area of the campgrounds, past the old tennis courts, crossing the invisible border of our camp. I push through the trees about three layers deep, but I find nothing. I do this again by the arts and crafts cabin, and then on the opposite side of the camp, over by the old Infirmary. Again, there is no one. I walk toward the one entrance into the camp, the dirt road, and still I see no one. Finally, I know I have no other choice but to head back down toward the water.

Slowly, fireplace poker in my hand, I start the descent down the hill. Naturally, downhill is so much easier than uphill, so I prepare myself mentally to run back up the hill if I need to. With my aching knee, it will be nothing short of a challenge. But it would be a challenge to anyone chasing me as well. With every slip I make on the hill, I grab myself, steadying myself, trying not to appear weak or feeble, just in case someone is watching. In a matter of minutes, I am back at the waterfront.

Looking around the giant lake, I see how easy it would be for anyone to hide anywhere. There is no way I can canvas the entire area, so since I have nothing left to lose, I offer myself up.

“Okay,” I shout, holding my hands out and turning in a circle. “Come out. Whoever you are, come out and show yourself. You want someone? Then don’t go after a child. I am one of the last remaining O’s. Here I am.”

I hear a twig snap, then another. Then there is the sound of footsteps, rushing in my ears. I think of closing my eyes and bracing for impact, but instead I steady myself and lift my fireplace poker. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can catch an eye or lame someone, even if only temporarily. Maybe I’ll be able to get away into the woods, though I have no idea what I’ll do when I get there.

Then, not far up the beach, I see a figure dressed in camouflage. He walks swiftly toward me carrying a gun in front of him. He holds it pointing upward, away from me, but I feel my heart pound and my palms begin to sweat. I recognize him. It’s Phoenix. I brace myself for his approach. He walks up, right next to me. He narrows his eyes at me.

“Are you really this naïve?” he asks. He looks disgusted with me.

He purposely looks away, and I realize I’m still in my swimsuit.

“Here.” He hands me the denim cut-offs I left lying on the beach. He still won’t look at me. “It’s not smart to leave things lying around. Especially your things. Some of the rebels have dogs trained to find you.” Again, his words feel like a slap in my face.

“Why?” I ask. “If everyone knows where I’m stationed, they can get to me any time.”

“Not everyone knows where your camp is. It’s not common knowledge. And I don’t know what anyone else’s motives are.” He straightens up and tightens his grasp on his rifle. “All I know is it would be easier to grab you when you are away from the safety and protection of your camp.”

I nod, remembering I am a wanted person because I have committed horrible crimes. I shrink back from Phoenix.

“Uh, you should put them on.” He points to the shorts, his eyes still avoiding me.

I nod again, my cheeks burning red, wondering if I look that bad in my swimsuit. I slide my feet into the shorts, one leg, than the other, thinking I’m thin and nearly six feet tall with long legs and tan skin, so it can’t be all bad. But apparently, whatever I look like repulses him. He doesn’t turn back until I’m covered.

“Thanks,” I squeak out and he nods. We stand there, the two of us, quiet for whole minutes. There are so many things I want to ask, like, why can’t we become partners in his revolution? But the words don’t come. Instead, our attention snaps to the gravel road and the sound of footsteps approaching. I raise my poker, and he looks at me for one moment before stepping in front of me, holding the gun. Finally, we see Gretchen on the path. She looks at us, quizzically.

“You’re missing lunch,” she pants, winded from her walk down. Gretchen never makes this trek down the hill, because she’ll have to go back up. She takes a deep breath. “And Lulu’s sick.”

I suddenly forget everything else.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Don’t know. She won’t talk to anyone but you.”

I turn to Phoenix. I’m certain there is something to say, but instead I leave him and sprint up the hill. I feel his eyes on me as I go.

Within minutes, I am in cabin O.

“Lulu?” I ask, quietly. I am huffing and puffing from my run. I fight to calm my breath as I step in, closer to Lulu. Raven blocks my way.

“Raven, honey. Let me by, please.” She does, but even in the midday sun, the cabin is dark, and it’s difficult for me to see. “Why aren’t you at lunch?” I ask Raven, realizing the time.

She just shrugs.

“Go to the mess hall,” I tell her, and she walks out, closing the door quietly behind her. When I am sure I see Raven walk through the lunchroom door, I turn to Lulu.

“What’s wrong? Lulu? Honey? Is it your stomach again? Are you scared?”

In the shadows, I see Lulu shake her head. Somewhere, deep inside, I have that horrific sinking feeling. “What is it then?” I ask. I walk closer to her cot where she is curled up in a tiny ball. I reach down and stroke her back. “Lulu? Please tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“You can’t help me anyway,” she whimpers, and I can tell she’s been crying.

“Why not? There’s nothing that we—”

“I’m no good anymore.” Her voice is shaky and barely perceptible.

“What are you talking about, Lulu?”

“I’ll never see you again.” She reaches out and grabs hold of my arm. It sends a chill down my spine.

“But Lulu, what are you talking about?”

“Oh Ronnie.” Quiet tears wash over her delicate cheeks. “I just blossomed.”

Chapter Six

I sink down onto the floor next to Lulu’s bed. It can’t be, I decide. She has to be wrong. It is not feasible that a nine-year-old girl…The exhaustion I’m feeling from lack of sleep sends a tremor through my body, but my adrenaline keeps me focused. I turn myself to face Lulu and stroke her hair, softly.

“Lulu, honey, how do you know?” I ask as carefully as I can.

She doesn’t speak, she just points to a small pile of soiled clothes on the edge of her cot.

I nod. “Does anyone else know?”

“No,” Lulu whispers.

“That’s good.” No matter what, this needs to stay between us.

I rack my brain for an answer…for anything. But the answer doesn’t come. Instead, the tears do. I chide myself for crying so much. I am usually the girl who never cries. I wipe the tears quickly. The last thing I need to do is instill more fear in Lulu.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Lulu cries, and I force a smile.

Many of my campers have given me this same teary goodbye, but it’s never before been this difficult.

“I don’t want you to either,” I agree, softly. Usually, I follow those words with, “But you’re going to a wonderful place where you’ll see your mother.” The thought of those poisonous words brings a bitter taste to my mouth. Today I say nothing more.

“And I don’t want to go,” Lulu whispers.

“Where?” I ask, just as quietly, understanding now there really is nowhere for her to go.

“To the New World.”

“Why not?” I am unable to say more. Unable to concoct a lie about trees dripping with candy. Unable to shake from my brain the image of streets littered with limp, lifeless children.

“Because it just doesn’t feel right.” The words she speaks are poignant and important, yet they come out of a tiny body, huddled up into an even tinier ball.

How I wish I had followed my instincts any of those times I had wondered. If I had…if I had, would it have made a difference? Could I have kept any one of those hundreds of little girls from being sent to the New World? Did I get caught up in the praise and accolades, and did I refuse to listen…to really listen to my heart? Guilt radiates through me like a searing pain. It is so much worse than the wounds I received from my beating. But there’s no time for guilt. Now there is only time for action.