Read Online Hopscotch by Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online

welcomed the groups back home, asking each Sharetaker what he or she had seen, how many trinkets they had sold, how many new members they had found.
    Teresa took a step closer, glad to see a man whose course seemed so clear to him, whose life had a clear-cut path—all the things she was missing in herself.
    Rhys's gaze locked with hers, and she stood like a rabbit afraid of being flushed from the underbrush. It was as if he managed to peel away all of the masks that hid her inner strength from the world. He could look through her, into her mind and heart, and see the hunger and vulnerability in her eyes.
    “The Sharetakers are not a free ride for lazy people,” Rhys said with a stern edge. “We believe that humans can be complete if they share everything, share their lives, their muscles, their labor. We all work hard so that we can live peacefully together, the way people were meant to exist. One heart, one mind, many bodies. If you join us, you must join us wholeheartedly. Hold back nothing—neither your possessions nor yourself. In return, you will receive all that we have, every person, every body, free for the taking.”
    Then Rhys smiled, and his expression softened. He reached toward Teresa and grasped her small hands in his, squeezing tightly. He stepped back from the press of people and opened the doors to the building. “Come inside, Teresa, and we'll help you settle in.”
    The other Sharetakers focused on the newcomer who had caught their leader's attention. Then they all came forward, welcoming her, introducing themselves.
    Teresa easily succumbed to their overtures. Her concerns and questions about her own life washed away. She followed the Sharetakers through the doorway into the strange building and a brand-new life. This place was filled with many more mysteries, but perhaps now she might find the answers . . . or at least the solace that she sought.

10
    Another weekend, Garth went to the artists' bazaar with more artwork and undiminished optimism.
    The side of a nearby building carried an up-to-the-minute COM-news screen as a public service. On the broadcast, guards from the Bureau of Incarceration and Executions led a decrepit and shuddering old man to his death. At the bottom of the screen, the BIE logo shone like a red bug.
    Garth got the attention of a pottery-artist who molded wet clay, which she would fire into small terra-cotta wind chimes. “What's going on?”
    She gestured at the screen with a muddy hand. “One of those idiot anti-COM terrorists from two years ago. The main deputy, I think.”
    Garth drew a deep breath. “The ones who blew up the substation down by the flower market?”
    A beignet chef dusted with white powdered sugar said, “That's almost the last one. The instigator of the whole mess is still at large. Robertha something or other. Now she's hiding under a rock.”
    Garth closed his eyes. He knew far more than any of these others, but he did not want to admit it, did not like to remember that day.
             
    Soft Stone had stood inside the monastery doorway, blocking their exit. “I'm going to give you three children some credits. Go out and buy flowers so we can brighten up the monastery. I'm sure you can handle that without an escort. In fact, you may want to pay the flower seller a little extra for whatever you purchase today—correct, Eduard?” Her voice was hard, devastating.
    “Uh, no problem.” Eduard looked deeply embarrassed. Garth and Teresa looked at him, neither of them understanding.
    “By rights, this task should fall to Daragon, as well, but he is so far behind in his mental exercises, I've asked him to stay here.” The bald woman opened the heavy door, and a flood of daylight poured in. “Be safe,” she said, sincere now.
    Garth and Eduard each folded one of Teresa's arms in their own, flanking her as they hurried away from the Falling Leaves. When they reached the flower market, they walked among the bouquets, the gaudy stalks, the