Free The Eleventh Plague by Jeff Hirsch Page A

When I was done, I had to gasp for air. Jackson and the others stood there, jaws wide.
    “Uh … you want us to go kill you something else?” Martin asked. “I think we have a horse that’s lame.”
    Embarrassed, I pushed the plate at Derrick and grabbed the rifle out of the wagon. “Thanks,” I mumbled.
    “Hey, it’s no problem, man. I’d do anything for the guy who shot Will Henry.”
    I turned, glaring at Jackson. “They know about that?” Jackson flinched. “I —”
    “Relax,” Derrick said. “We just wish your aim had been a little better.”
    “Hey, you coming to school with us tomorrow?” Martin asked. I looked at him, blank faced, sure I hadn’t heard him correctly. “School. You know. Teachers. Books.” Derrick whacked Martin in the stomach. “Girls in tight sweaters.”
    “You all go to school?”
    “Sure! How else are we going to get into a good college?”
    The three of them laughed, but I didn’t get it. The way they talked, like they were tossing a ball around in a game of keep-away, was confusing.
    “So you wanna come?” Jackson asked.
    I looked over my shoulder at Dad’s window and shivered at the thought of him lying in that tomblike quiet. What if he woke up and I wasn’t there? I shouldered the rifle and backed away from the three of them without a word.
    Derrick called after me. “Okay! Take it easy. Come back anytime!” Jackson pushed Derrick hard on the shoulder, knocking him off balance.
    “What? I was being nice!”
    “You were being a spaz.”
    I left them bickering, getting halfway across the road, when Marcus spoke up from behind me.
    “Everyone? Everyone, can I have your attention please?”
    Marcus was standing by the fire with Violet at his side, waving everyone closer together. Caleb Henry loomed in the background.
    “Just for a second. Thanks, everybody. Um. I just wanted to say it’s great that we could all be here like this tonight. It’s Thanksgiving today, uh, we think, and I’m sure most of us remember that from back when we were kids. Every year we’d gather the whole family and spend the day together, eating and watching football and arguing.”
    “Was this back on the yacht, Green?” someone called, and a laugh rose up from the group.
    Marcus chuckled. “Well, wherever it was, I don’t remember ever feeling closer to my family than I did right then. And I don’t think I’ve ever felt closer to all of you. We’ve done great work in the past year, haven’t we?”
    There was a general murmur of agreement from the assembled, a scattering of applause.
    “New wells were dug, the crops came in a bit better than expected, and everybody’s house is ready for the winter. But most of all, another summer has gone by and we’re all still here, together and safe. We’re lucky. Damn lucky, I think.”
    Just then Caleb edged Marcus out of the way and came forward. His face looked even rougher in the firelight, creased like an old map.As soon as he stepped up, everyone went quiet. Caleb looked from person to person grimly, then began a prayer. Everyone lowered their heads as he spoke. His voice was dark and sharp.
    “Lord, after the flood, many of us believed it would be the fire next time. All of us here saw that fire, and thanks to your grace we were among the few who found their way through it. As we struggle to please you, we are beset on all sides by those that would tear down all that we have built.”
    As Caleb spoke, his blue eyes searched the crowd. I wondered if he was looking for me.
    “Today we give thanks and reaffirm that the price of your gift is vigilance and obedience to your will. Amen.”
    The crowd murmured “Amen” and then someone at the back of the group began singing a song that I didn’t recognize at first. “Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light …”
    Even Jackson and his friends joined in. Some of the adults laid their hands over their hearts. I remembered it then from the few times Grandpa had sung it when