The Reaping - By M. Leighton Page 0,65

where I no longer had any. It was clear that, for me, there was really only one option. It had been bred into me all my life. I was no quitter; I would fight.

I had a mother and a sister that I’d never known. I’d been robbed of a normal life for seventeen years and I wasn’t about to give up on the possibility of having a normal life somewhere in the future.

Dad said he thought I could save my sister. Maybe I could save us both. I would fight, but not the way I was expected to fight. I’d fight for my life and for my sister’s. I’d find a way to get us out, to free us from whatever deal had been made. And I’d find a way to save Derek and his brother, too. I had to.

My resolution wavered the tiniest bit when, unbidden, one word popped into my mind. How? How could I do what had never been done before, what had never even been attempted, as far as we knew? How could I do the impossible?

And, just as quickly as the doubt had arisen, it was allayed by another vision of my father’s smiling face. I knew the answer. I’d do it for Dad. Because he didn’t raise a quitter, he raised a survivor.

I felt a smile creep across my face, probably one of the first genuine moments of happiness I’d felt in a long time. Then I looked at Derek. I thought he could use a little pick-me-up and I remembered something else I’d seen in Dad’s closet.

“Will you take me for some target practice tonight? For just a little while?” I turned my smile up a little brighter when he raised his head.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “Go get dressed. We’ll take the car.” I got the feeling that last was said as a little push, to see if I was going to freak out again. But I didn’t.

“Great. I’ll meet you in the garage.”

I dressed quickly, throwing on some jeans and a sweater, then grabbed my backpack and threw a few things inside. I rushed into Dad’s room and immediately found what I was looking for. Everything was just where Dad had left it.

I heard Derek start the car and pull out of the garage so I hurried out the door and hit the button to close the garage on my way out.

We were well on our way when I asked Derek to take a different direction, toward the lake. Though he tossed me a curious look, he said nothing as he made the necessary turns.

As we turned off the main road toward the clearing, I saw a PRIVATE PROPERTY sign nailed to a tree. We really had no right to be there, but I was feeling a little reckless and counting on the clearing being vacant.

When Derek cut the engine, I got out of the car and glanced around. It looked very much the same as it had when I’d come to this very spot with Stephen Fitchco, minus all the party accoutrements and people. And fire. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that we were alone.

Quietly, we made our way across the clearing and down the dock to the little boat still tied at the end. I reached out and steadied the little dinghy, threw my backpack in and stepped carefully in after it.

I looked up at Derek. “You coming?” I couldn’t help but grin. It seemed Derek was always saying that to me.

With a little shrug, he stepped down into the boat with me, grabbed the oars and untied us from the dock.

I told Derek where we were going and he got us into position then began to row. I leaned back to watch him, much as I’d done that night with Stephen. I couldn’t help but compare the scenario and the two men involved.

This was someone I cared about, probably even loved, though I couldn’t be absolutely certain since my experience in that arena was virtually nil. This was someone I would gladly (I think) give myself to. This was someone who thought enough of me and my best interests not to take that step no matter how much I wanted to, much less try and force me. This was someone who actually protected me. If I had to be stuck on an island with someone, even if it was only a few hundred feet from civilization, there’s no other person I’d rather be

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