Facing South (The Drifts, #2) by Emily V. Webster

Author:Emily V. Webster [Webster, Emily V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emily V Webster
Published: 2021-12-13T16:00:00+00:00

14

It feels like I’m floating. And as I lift into the rainbow-colored sky, I see more of the ground below me. Luscious greenery and all different sorts of animals running through purple fields. I hear laughter, and there’s one distinct giggle that intensifies. I swivel around in midair and catch a glimpse of Natalie, a giant smile on her face, two silver birds flapping their wings beside her. And behind them, Mom and Dad mounted on eagles that soar by us.

I want to speak, but I can’t make any noise. And then thunder cracks, darkening the bright expanse of land. A bolt of lightning comes crashing down, striking my sister out of the air. I try to go after her, but I keep floating higher toward the storm clouds. Maybe Mom and Dad can save her, but I don’t see them any longer. The birds in the sky turn into red-eyed crows, and the animals that were running through colorful fields turn into black ash scattered in splintering cornfields.

And then I no longer float, but instead feel like I’ve been thrown like a dart toward a spot in the ground where jagged rocks have come up. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that if I don’t see the impact and watch myself get impaled, it won’t hurt as badly.

My eyes burst open as soon as my mattress falls back into the frame of the bunk, my body hitting hard with it. I look up at the burly recruit standing beside me. He’s holding an empty can, which he lugs across the room.

“What are you doing?” I try to sound more menacing than I feel, but I don’t think it works.

“Looking for food.” Grayson makes a disappointed face. “Guess no one hides anything good under mattresses here.”

If you only knew, I think. I stopped hiding stuff under my mattress a while ago. I find that hiding it above me works, like where Ray pulled the duct tape from under an unused bunk. But I’ve seen a bunch of other recruits still use their mattresses as a hiding spot for their stuff. I’m sure it won’t take Grayson long to realize that.

“Eat your own food. I saw how much you took.” I want to roll over, turn my back on him to show that I don’t want him bothering me more than he already is. But last time he thought I did something to offend him, he slugged me across the face.

“It’s gone. Ate it all.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of rationing?”

“When I don’t have beady eyes watching my every move.”

“I didn’t think you were afraid of anyone.”

He furrows his brow, seemingly more in confusion than irritation, but I get ready to push myself off my bunk away from him just to make sure. “I’m not,” he says. “Doesn’t stop people from stealing, though.”

I relax. “You just steal from others.”

“Exactly,” he says like there’s nothing wrong with it.

Peeking up at the underside of my bunk, I spot my water bottle with about two-thirds of its contents left and the remaining unopened can.

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