Read Online The Secret: A Thriller by David Haywood Young - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Haywood Young
Tags: General Fiction
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they started a new chant. “WE PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO THE FLAG…”
I sat down, hard, when they were gone.
* * *
“Y es,” Mr. Morrison soothed me, one hand on my left shoulder. “It can be difficult at first.”
I tried to get my breathing under control, and stared up at him. “At first?”
“Jacob, Jacob. The young ones are a little enthusiastic, true. But they understand: we must defend our own.”
I swallowed. “Against…what?”
“Whom, Jacob. Against whom.” He paused, waiting for acknowledgment. I waved for him to continue. “Against outsiders, dear boy. People who don’t belong here, by reason of race, creed or—not to put too fine a point on it—birth.” He looked into my face, and chuckled. “Relax, boy. Relax. Come by the church tonight—Reverend Bob can explain it to you. It’s simple, really. You’ve missed the noon sermon, but this evening will do as well.”
I stood awkwardly, moving to the window so he wouldn’t see my face. “Bob Germain?”
“Why yes, of course. We must pull together, Jacob. These are difficult times.”
I nodded, still facing away. “Very true,” I said, and tried the only idea I had. “Let me go get my family. They’ll want to hear.”
“Oh!” Mr. Morrison chuckled. “An excellent notion. We’ll look forward to seeing you. All of you this time, if you please.”
He opened his door for me, giving a maniacally happy grin, lunacy sparkling from his monocle. “All of you.”
I nodded and got out of there as smoothly as I could. I wanted to draw my gun but I didn’t want to attract attention.
Even after he closed the door I tried to walk normally, betraying nothing, as I moved down the street.
Two doors down I saw a couple of dead bodies lying in somebody’s front yard. One of them seemed to be clutching a skateboard…but it was hard to tell much about who they’d been. Whom.
So, not a deer or a dog. Still spooked, I kept walking. All those kids had come right by here, and none of them had visibly reacted. Even though the bodies were largely…eaten. By something.
What in the hell was going on? I had no idea. This morning I’d supposed—as a fall-back plan, if nothing else worked—we could try to drive out of town. Now? I wondered whether we could survive the attempt.
And where would we go, anyway? Was anywhere at all safe?
* * *
I felt better as soon as I got into the woods. Until today I’d thought that, whatever was happening, the threats were external. From sources out of town. Of course, Mr. Morrison still seemed to feel that way…but he and the marching kids were more frightening to me than any number of explosions. Or even fanged monkey-people.
My knees shook as I staggered through the woods. Fear or exhaustion, I wondered? Did it matter? I got slightly lost—I’ve never had any sense of direction at all—but found a creek and knew where I had to be. Sighing, I sat on a rock. My feet hurt a little, so I took off the custom-made boots I’d ordered via the internet. Expensive, but…anyway, it still felt like a betrayal of my principles to have anything on my feet. But I didn’t want anything to slow me down if I had to run, I hadn’t wanted to attract any more attention than necessary while walking around town, and there was poison ivy out here too.
Never mind. I dangled my left foot in a pool of water. It felt so good I did the same with my other foot.
Less than a quarter of a mile from here sat Great-Granddad’s old stock tank. Basically a pond he’d dug out with a tractor, and the creek kept it full. Generations of teenagers had used it as a swimming hole.
A feeling I’d been fighting off rose to the fore. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, but—this place was my home. The town, yes, but especially the woods. It felt safe even now. What kind of perverted sense did that make? People were dying by the thousands—millions?—out in the world, my family was in danger right here, and somehow…I had
I sat down, hard, when they were gone.
* * *
“Y es,” Mr. Morrison soothed me, one hand on my left shoulder. “It can be difficult at first.”
I tried to get my breathing under control, and stared up at him. “At first?”
“Jacob, Jacob. The young ones are a little enthusiastic, true. But they understand: we must defend our own.”
I swallowed. “Against…what?”
“Whom, Jacob. Against whom.” He paused, waiting for acknowledgment. I waved for him to continue. “Against outsiders, dear boy. People who don’t belong here, by reason of race, creed or—not to put too fine a point on it—birth.” He looked into my face, and chuckled. “Relax, boy. Relax. Come by the church tonight—Reverend Bob can explain it to you. It’s simple, really. You’ve missed the noon sermon, but this evening will do as well.”
I stood awkwardly, moving to the window so he wouldn’t see my face. “Bob Germain?”
“Why yes, of course. We must pull together, Jacob. These are difficult times.”
I nodded, still facing away. “Very true,” I said, and tried the only idea I had. “Let me go get my family. They’ll want to hear.”
“Oh!” Mr. Morrison chuckled. “An excellent notion. We’ll look forward to seeing you. All of you this time, if you please.”
He opened his door for me, giving a maniacally happy grin, lunacy sparkling from his monocle. “All of you.”
I nodded and got out of there as smoothly as I could. I wanted to draw my gun but I didn’t want to attract attention.
Even after he closed the door I tried to walk normally, betraying nothing, as I moved down the street.
Two doors down I saw a couple of dead bodies lying in somebody’s front yard. One of them seemed to be clutching a skateboard…but it was hard to tell much about who they’d been. Whom.
So, not a deer or a dog. Still spooked, I kept walking. All those kids had come right by here, and none of them had visibly reacted. Even though the bodies were largely…eaten. By something.
What in the hell was going on? I had no idea. This morning I’d supposed—as a fall-back plan, if nothing else worked—we could try to drive out of town. Now? I wondered whether we could survive the attempt.
And where would we go, anyway? Was anywhere at all safe?
* * *
I felt better as soon as I got into the woods. Until today I’d thought that, whatever was happening, the threats were external. From sources out of town. Of course, Mr. Morrison still seemed to feel that way…but he and the marching kids were more frightening to me than any number of explosions. Or even fanged monkey-people.
My knees shook as I staggered through the woods. Fear or exhaustion, I wondered? Did it matter? I got slightly lost—I’ve never had any sense of direction at all—but found a creek and knew where I had to be. Sighing, I sat on a rock. My feet hurt a little, so I took off the custom-made boots I’d ordered via the internet. Expensive, but…anyway, it still felt like a betrayal of my principles to have anything on my feet. But I didn’t want anything to slow me down if I had to run, I hadn’t wanted to attract any more attention than necessary while walking around town, and there was poison ivy out here too.
Never mind. I dangled my left foot in a pool of water. It felt so good I did the same with my other foot.
Less than a quarter of a mile from here sat Great-Granddad’s old stock tank. Basically a pond he’d dug out with a tractor, and the creek kept it full. Generations of teenagers had used it as a swimming hole.
A feeling I’d been fighting off rose to the fore. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, but—this place was my home. The town, yes, but especially the woods. It felt safe even now. What kind of perverted sense did that make? People were dying by the thousands—millions?—out in the world, my family was in danger right here, and somehow…I had
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