Somewhere Over the Freaking Rainbow - By L.L. Muir Page 0,67
of course, but Somerleds had come from great distances for their former leader. Seven or eight years at one leadership post was standard and in that time he’d worked among many.
The circle was only half so big, but it was full of smiling souls who had been her friends—none so close as Jonathan and Lucas, who had lived with her in the big house more than three years—but they squeezed her hands and wished her Godspeed.
Jonathan was last. He hugged her and lifted her easily into the air where he swung her in circle after circle.
She laughed. Of course he would miss her and watch for her—if he still remembered—hoping their paths would cross again, but he needn’t say so. It was all in his laughing eyes, lit by unworldly lights.
He put her down and opened his arms wide toward the center.
Step. Step. Step.
“Be happy, Jamison,” she whispered. Facing the tree house, instead of Jonathan, she took her place and held out her arms.
She winced when the voices started.
***
Jamison’s happy dream was invaded by the sound of Skye’s laughter. That first day, in the school parking lot, that button he’d wished for, to make her laugh again—someone was pushing it! He sat up, suddenly alert, and wondered at the time he’d wasted harassing her instead of making her laugh.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again. With every bit of time he had left with her, he’d make her laugh; hopefully those moments would make the less pleasant ones fade. They’d go to the hospital and make Granddad laugh as much as he could stand.
With every bit of time left.
When Granddad dies, she’ll be leaving!
No matter how hard he tried to look at both tragedies as separate, they smeared together into one giant ball of dread. And after being crammed into his strongbox, over and over again, those thoughts had wiggled out of their cramped quarters and now danced in his head like mimes, warning him to wake up and pay attention.
He was awake, fully awake, and his attention was drawn to the smelly wood covering the window. It couldn’t be morning, but there were lights winking between the slats. And someone was singing, badly!
They were having one of their Exploding-Man Ceremonies he’d talked about on the recording, about the night that had been wiped from his memory! And if they were sending someone off—
“Skye!”
He stood and banged against the wood. He’d done too good a job nailing it down. No use.
What had he said on the tape? It was all over, right after the singing?!
Too dark to see anything inside, he lunged for the drop door and fumbled with the latch. Thank goodness he hadn’t felt the need to use the bolt.
No time!
He dropped onto the fork in the trunk and nearly lost his balance, but caught himself.
There, in the field, a crop circle like he’d expected. A figure stood in the center, but with his eyes still blurred with sleep, he couldn’t tell who it was.
The singing improved. What did that mean?
The figure in the center began to move. No, it was rising. In the air!
“Noooo!” His voice broke. “Noooo!” he screamed again. “Stop! I’m coming down!” He didn’t dare wait to see if they’d heard him. He had to get to the field, had to get the hell out of that tree.
He had to be in time. He had to!
Please, God, don’t let them blow her up! Don’t take her! Please!
He remembered what she’d thought the other night when he’d brought out the ropes. She thought they were going to swing over the fence.
He’d use the rope and pulley to get up in the tree hours ago, with the weighted pallet as a counter-balance. Now, with the pallet on the ground and the end of the rope in his hand, he jumped back off the branch. The pallet’s weight jarred the rope, but it lifted off the ground.
Jamison swung like Bloody-freaking-Tarzan over the fence, and as if it were a tire swing over a familiar swimming hole, he let go of the rope at just the right moment and went sailing out over the corn. Too bad his legs didn’t stay under him.
He landed on his back, knocking the wind from his lungs. His spine might have been broken but he didn’t stop to check. He just rolled to his side and kept moving while he waited for his lungs to inflate.
Where were the lights?
He looked back to the tree house to guess the direction and veered to the