Crimson Born - Amy Patrick Page 0,8

tragic accident.

Where had they all come from? And what were they doing?

From my position flat on my back, I couldn’t see the buggy or my friends. I could see Reece’s car. Which suddenly flipped and landed right-side-up on its tires.

I stared in disbelief as he opened the driver’s side door and got out. He looked as shocked as I was.

The woman moved toward him but stopped in her tracks at the wail of a siren. The intermittent flashing of colored lights pierced the darkness, and the others froze in place as well.

“Police?” one of the men asked.

“Ambulance,” the beautiful woman said. “Dammit. It’s close. Leave them. Let’s go.”

“What a waste,” a girl’s voice said, the disappointment clear in her tone. “And I was hungry too.”

There was a gasp from Reece’s direction. He turned and ran, leaving the highway and cutting across a pasture.

“Want me to go after him?” a large man asked. “His size would make for a good soldier.”

The woman, who appeared to be in authority over the others, stared into the dark field. “No. Let him go. He might fight back and get loud about it. The first responders will be here any moment. I don’t want there to be any witnesses. We’re leaving before they spot us.”

Now the man came to stand directly over me, looking down at my helpless form.

Long pale locks of hair fell forward, nearly hiding his face. His leather-clad shoulders were so wide they blocked out the moon.

“What about this one? I thought you wanted her.”

“We’re still two hundred miles from the Bastion. It’s too far to carry her without being seen,” the beautiful woman said. “Even for you.”

There was a pause as she appeared to think. Finally, she swept one arm to the side in an authoritative gesture.

“Move her off the road—hide the body. We’ll send someone back for her. As for the boy... he’ll find his way home eventually. They always do.”

I woke the next morning. At least I thought it was morning. Maybe it was afternoon. The sun was up, and it was exceptionally bright.

I wasn’t directly exposed to it but lying just inside of some sort of large pipe—a culvert maybe? A trickle of water ran down the center of it from one open end to the other.

How had I gotten here? Had I taken a bump to the head and wandered away from the accident scene?

The accident.

A double-punch of alarm and grief jolted me as my senses returned to me fully.

Josiah. And Aaron and Hannah.

And Reece. Were they okay? Where were they?

Getting to my feet, I ran toward one of the openings, shielding my eyes with both hands against the contrast between the interior of the cool, shaded pipe and the bright sunshine outside.

The minute I stepped into the light, my skin began to sting and then to sizzle. I plunged my hands into the pockets of my skirt and instinctively ducked so my bonnet would shade my face.

But my bonnet was gone. Where was it? I’d taken it off for the party but had put it back on for the ride home.

Whirling around, I ran back into the culvert, searching its murky floor. A puff of soiled black fabric caught my eye, and I bent to retrieve it.

The bonnet was certainly the worse for wear, stained with dirt and dried blood.

No matter. I needed to find my friends. Draping the hand-sewn garment over my head, I stuffed my long, heavy locks beneath it and tied the strings under my chin before setting out again.

The sun was still uncomfortably hot, but I no longer felt the sting of sunburn. Keeping my head down and following my ears, I made my way to the highway and searched for wreckage.

There was none. Maybe I was farther away from the crash site than I realized?

Maybe it had never happened at all. I seemed to remember in the aftermath of the crash being unable to walk or even move, but here I was moving freely, in perfect health, in no pain whatsoever.

That made no sense. It must have been a nightmare.

But wait—there, off to one side of the road... a black, wide-brimmed hat lay abandoned in a ditch.

Josiah’s hat.

Naturally, it wasn’t distinctive in any way. It could have blown off the head of any man from our community—or from any other Amish community for that matter. The whole point of our plain dress was to not stand out, not draw attention to our outward appearances.

But I knew it was his.

And how did