Free Colony East by Scott Cramer Page A

dragging an anchor.
    Ahead, a pack of kids had sought shelter under a bridge. When she and Mel stepped out of the deluge, some of the kids eyed them with suspicion, but most with boredom.
    “See those kids behind us,” Mel told them, “they have pills.”
    Heads turned, and some of the kids stood. Abby saw a blade flash in one boy’s hand. Sad regret pumped through her veins. What Brad’s gang had done to Mel’s friends was unspeakable, but why put others in danger? Mel had changed more than Abby had imagined since the night of the purple moon.
    They stepped out from under the bridge and into the drenching rain. Abby craned her neck when she heard a scream. One kid was on the ground. Brad was throwing wild punches and kicks. The other kids scattered, allowing Brad to continue chasing them.
    Abby opened her hand and dropped her rock.
    Brad was now twenty feet away. His glistening knife blade swung back and forth with every awkward stride he took. The clap of his footsteps rose above the rush of rain beating down.
    Anger crackled like furious lightning in Mel’s eyes. “Hurry.” She almost pulled Abby’s arm off.
    They continued, gaining and losing ground to Brad, both parties slowing down to a marathon of caterpillars.
    When Abby spotted the Bunker Hill Monument, she knew that the yacht club was a quarter mile away. “We’re almost there.”
    “How far can you run?” Mel asked.
    Run? “About twenty yards.”
    Mel scoffed. “If your life depended on it, you could only run twenty yards?”
    Her life did depend on it, and Abby had first thought ten yards, but she had doubled her answer.
    “I don’t think so,” Mel continued. “You can run for half a mile. Tell me when we have a half-mile to go.”
    Abby’s lungs screamed for oxygen. She staggered because of cramping muscles. She was afraid of Brad, but she was just as afraid that her body would simply give out.
    The bike path was just ahead. It hugged the harbor and passed close to the yacht club. They only had about two hundred yards to go, which was a lot less than the half-mile warning that Mel had asked for. Abby gritted her teeth and imagined a pack of wild animals was chasing her. The only way to escape them was to become like them, unthinking and focused, fueled by the most powerful instinct of all, the drive to survive. Did animals ever collapse from exhaustion? She was about to find out.
    “Now,” Abby shouted.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    Jordan reefed Stargazer’s sail, an action that involved rolling some of the sail around the boom to reduce the surface area of the canvas. He would sacrifice speed for safety. Salt air corroded clips and hasps, reducing the strength of the rope, and by not raising the sail fully, he would put less stress on the gear.
    The boat was as ready as it was going to be. To get underway, all Jordan had to do was cut the line tied to the mooring buoy.
    He inflated the raft and climbed in. The raft would hold three passengers safely. If Timmy was with Abby and Mel, Jordan would make two trips. He fixed the oars in the oarlocks, dipped the blades in the water, and pulled.
    Fuzzy plumes hovered over the city. The rain looked like coal dust between the dark clouds and building tops. The wind stiffened from the approaching squall.
    When the raft scraped the bottom, Jordan hopped out and sank to his ankles in silky mud. The rain was now coming down steadily, and clouds of steam boiled up at the airport. He dragged the raft toward the beach and flipped it over to prevent the wind from blowing it away. He didn’t want to have to explain to Abby that the tiny yellow dot halfway across the harbor was their raft.
    He retrieved the pills from the base of the flagpole and pushed the bag deep into his wet pocket.
    Just then, two people appeared at the end of the driveway. Jordan blinked and wiped his eyes. With the rain coming down harder, he couldn’t tell who they were. Except for how slowly they were approaching him, they looked like they