Free The Letting by Cathrine Goldstein Page A

perimeter of the camp. I know this is a bad idea, but I also know I have to stop whoever is there. Maybe, just maybe, whoever it is will be happy with obtaining me, and leave the girls alone. The girls could very well survive the Letting tomorrow, and by the next time they are summoned, maybe Phoenix would have found a way to free them from their horrific fate.
    As I walk on faster and faster, I know this is a completely inane thought, and if Phoenix, Gunnar, or Buzzcut are anywhere nearby, they may very well shoot me on the spot. But I have to know. After all of the years of being a closet danger myself, I now want to know when I am facing one.
    I walk to a far area of the campgrounds, past the old tennis courts, crossing the invisible border of our camp. I push through the trees about three layers deep, but I find nothing. I do this again by the arts and crafts cabin, and then on the opposite side of the camp, over by the old Infirmary. Again, there is no one. I walk toward the one entrance into the camp, the dirt road, and still I see no one. Finally, I know I have no other choice but to head back down toward the water.
    Slowly, fireplace poker in my hand, I start the descent down the hill. Naturally, downhill is so much easier than uphill, so I prepare myself mentally to run back up the hill if I need to. With my aching knee, it will be nothing short of a challenge. But it would be a challenge to anyone chasing me as well. With every slip I make on the hill, I grab myself, steadying myself, trying not to appear weak or feeble, just in case someone is watching. In a matter of minutes, I am back at the waterfront.
    Looking around the giant lake, I see how easy it would be for anyone to hide anywhere. There is no way I can canvas the entire area, so since I have nothing left to lose, I offer myself up.
    “Okay,” I shout, holding my hands out and turning in a circle. “Come out. Whoever you are, come out and show yourself. You want someone? Then don’t go after a child. I am one of the last remaining O’s. Here I am.”
    I hear a twig snap, then another. Then there is the sound of footsteps, rushing in my ears. I think of closing my eyes and bracing for impact, but instead I steady myself and lift my fireplace poker. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can catch an eye or lame someone, even if only temporarily. Maybe I’ll be able to get away into the woods, though I have no idea what I’ll do when I get there.
    Then, not far up the beach, I see a figure dressed in camouflage. He walks swiftly toward me carrying a gun in front of him. He holds it pointing upward, away from me, but I feel my heart pound and my palms begin to sweat. I recognize him. It’s Phoenix. I brace myself for his approach. He walks up, right next to me. He narrows his eyes at me.
    “Are you really this naïve?” he asks. He looks disgusted with me.
    He purposely looks away, and I realize I’m still in my swimsuit.
    “Here.” He hands me the denim cut-offs I left lying on the beach. He still won’t look at me. “It’s not smart to leave things lying around. Especially your things. Some of the rebels have dogs trained to find you.” Again, his words feel like a slap in my face.
    “Why?” I ask. “If everyone knows where I’m stationed, they can get to me any time.”
    “Not everyone knows where your camp is. It’s not common knowledge. And I don’t know what anyone else’s motives are.” He straightens up and tightens his grasp on his rifle. “All I know is it would be easier to grab you when you are away from the safety and protection of your camp.”
    I nod, remembering I am a wanted person because I have committed horrible crimes. I shrink back from Phoenix.
    “Uh, you should put them on.” He points to the shorts, his eyes still avoiding me.
    I nod again, my cheeks burning red, wondering if I look that bad in my swimsuit. I slide my feet into the shorts, one leg, than the other, thinking I’m thin and nearly six feet tall with long