Free Learning to Spy by Leigh Talbert Moore Page A

little paper cups onto trays in rapid succession.
    Just as fast, the guards moved among us, placing dentist-office Dixie cups of what looked like water in front of everyone. A separate guard came to where I sat on the floor, clutching my knees. She lightly took my arm.
    “Please return to the table.” Her voice was smooth. “You’ve had a shock. Have some water.”
    I wasn’t about to drink anything they gave us. It was Day One all over again, only this time, it was Guyana. We were all being served the Kool-Aid. Next stop, mass graves.
    Stupidly, my friends and fellow prisoners had no such qualms. Didn’t anybody watch the History channel? I stared as they all took shaky sips without hesitation.
    “Just take a small sip.” The female guard was still with me. “It’ll calm you.”
    My throat constricted. My whole body was on revolt. Shaking my head, I didn’t meet her eyes. I only stared at the white cup of water. Braxton was at my side, and he drained his. What the hell made him do that? Did he want to die?
    Seconds ticked past and nothing happened. Nobody passed out. Nobody did anything strange—except forget what we’d just witnessed here. Braxton picked up his fork to finish his lunch. They all did. Like one of us had not just been taken out “swiftly and finally.”
    Only he had, and I was reeling from the shock. I barely knew Cleve, but he represented hope to me. He was my backup, and now I was completely alone.
    I wanted to mourn him, but I knew I had to hide my feelings or risk suffering the same fate. I’d have to figure out my next steps, and I’d have to double up on the secrecy.
    * * *
    A week passed, and they moved us girls from pulling potatoes to gathering ears of corn. The guys were put in the barn, shoveling and cleaning the stalls or digging pits for burying garbage and waste. No more boxes were buried from what I’d heard, but I was tense, on edge after the showdown in the dining hall.
    Braxton was changing, I could tell it. He didn’t pray so much anymore, and he’d stopped talking about the end of the world. He just sat and watched and slowly became more and more withdrawn.
    The sun beat down hot as we walked among the cornfields, and sweat tickled little lines down the back of my neck and between my shoulder blades. As usual, I lowered the top of my coveralls and tied the sleeves around my waist to catch a little breeze as I walked through the rows.
    The familiarity, the knowing what to expect was somehow comforting. I still had to get out, but for a moment, I could be with the earth, the plants that never stopped growing, and catch my breath.
    Jackson’s daddy had taught me how to feel the ends of the ears to see if they were ready for harvest before twisting them down and off the stalk. The other girls would pull back the green husks and poke their fingernails into the kernels to see if the middles ran clear and watery or milky-white—the sign they were ready to be harvested. The only problem with that was the ones that weren’t ready were now exposed to insects and birds and most likely wouldn’t survive to feed us.
    At lunch, I sat with Yolanda on my left and Flora on my right. After the watcher passed behind us, I slid half of my meat onto Flora’s tray hoping it would be enough to keep her blood healthy. Dr. Green said anemics could die of heart attack, but I’d made up my mind we weren’t losing another person.
    I was calm on the outside, placid, but a knot of anger and defiance ached in my chest. I was getting us out of here, and not another one of us was going in those boxes.
    Flora’s cheeks gained more color and her freckles weren’t as noticeable, but she was more lethargic as the days passed. I decided it was the additional calories combined with her easier work assignment. Or maybe it was because she believed even more she was never getting out of this camp alive.
    I on the other hand, felt my body getting stronger. My brain was clear, and what happened with Cleve