Free Learning to Spy by Leigh Talbert Moore Page B

forced me to reconsider my plans. Instead of a direct approach to escape, these days I decided to try and learn our captors’ ultimate goal. Maybe if I knew why they were holding us, I could figure out a timeline that included my escape, finding Jackson, and getting back here for the others. I didn’t want to be gone longer than necessary.
    Of course, there was also the problem of the supposed tracking devices. I’d studied my arm in the shower more than once, but other than a little purple spot like a pinprick, I didn’t see any signs of a chip. Either it was incredibly small, or it was the same color as my skin—or it was translucent.
    I thought of the time we’d studied microfibers in science class. They were thin as hair and clear. The memory made me hesitant. Who knew what technology these invaders had in their power?
    Every afternoon I walked the length of the fence, studying it and making mental notes. It was mostly unguarded, and there was a patch below the cabins that was almost completely obscured by shrubs. As luck would have it, when I dropped off my ears of corn that day, I saw the hand trowels stacked in a corner behind the churn.
    Glancing around the barn, none of the female guards watched as we discarded our hats and pulled up our coveralls, sliding the arms in the sleeves and raising our zippers. No one saw my hand slide out and cover one of the trowels. I slipped it back up into my sleeve and left the building.
    That day as I walked the perimeter, when I got to the obscured part, I looked around to be sure no one was watching. Then I dropped to my knees and started digging. I almost did a cheer—the ground was soft, even a little damp! Ten stabs and I’d formed a hole. I reached into it and then through to the other side. Just as I suspected, they hadn’t planted the wire too deeply, and it wouldn’t take any effort to break out. I put the trowel in the hole I’d dug and covered it up. This was where I’d escape. Once I decided how to handle the tracking device problem.
    * * *
    B raxton was in his usual spot in the small cluster of trees with his head down. We hadn’t spoken to each other since the day Cleve was taken. He’d even stopped mentioning what Jesus would do and following God’s will. I always thought I’d be happy when that day came, but instead it left me feeling more unsettled and nervous. I dropped beside him in the tiny grove.
    “I found it,” I whispered, watching for any sign of a change in our afternoon guardians. There was none. As usual, we seemed to be on our own.
    “Found what?”
    “A way out. I’m going to use it to escape, and then I’ll find Jackson and come back for the rest of you.”
    He jumped around and clutched my arm again. “No you won’t.”
    I didn’t like being manhandled, and I was sick of his impotence. I gritted my teeth and pulled back.
    “I’m getting out of here. I’ll find help, and then I’m coming back for the rest of you.”
    “You won’t come back when you’re dead.”
    “I won’t be dead. I’m little and I can hide. The fencing isn’t planted in the ground. I’ve already started a hole. I can be out before anyone knows I’m gone.”
    “And the minute they discover you’re gone, they’ll press a button and you’ll die.”
    My lips tightened, and I shook my head. “That chip is the only thing stopping me. But I’m going to figure out how to get around it.”
    “You can’t get around it. That guard said once they discover you’re gone, they press a button and send a current through your nervous system. You drop, and in that instant, your brains fry like an egg inside your skull.”
    It was the same story D’Lo had told me, and I couldn’t stop a shudder moving across my shoulders. I pulled my knees to my chest and tried to deny his words. The only problem was it explained everything—why they didn’t watch us so closely, why they were so lax about security. With less than twenty of us here, it was easy to spot