or not?”
“That depends.” He gauges me with his green
eyes. “What’s in it for me?”
Oh. I hadn’t really expected that. So far,
we’ve only met charitable, selfless people in Dartmoor who said
they believed in miracles and generosity. This guy obviously has a
very different life philosophy. Which shouldn’t surprise me,
because he’s opposed to Dartmoor’s government. “Uhm,” I stammer.
“What would you like?”
An unpleasant smile creeps up Victor’s face
when his gaze rakes me up and down. “Well,” he starts out
suggestively.
Out of nowhere, Walt is between me and the
redhead. He shoots Victor a contemptuous glare. “Hold that thought,
and don’t say it out loud if you know what’s good for you,” he says
icily.
Victor turns pale. “Fine.”
An idea pops into my head. “I have this,” I
say, handing over the New Testament. “It isn’t worth much, but if
you help us I promise I’ll bring you an object from the cathedral.
You’ll get it when we come back.”
I see him swiftly considering my offer.
“Deal,” he says, his voice trembling slightly. Apparently, my
proposal is even more tempting than I thought.
He turns around and walks toward the farm.
Walt frowns at Victor before grabbing my hand. “What a
disrespectful brat,” he grumbles. “The way he looked you over. I
had half a mind to knock him over the head.”
I laugh nervously. “I wouldn’t do that around
here, if I were you. Before you know it, soldiers will be here,
needles at the ready.” I lean into him and kiss him gently on the
lips. “Thanks for standing up for me,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome,” he replies. “Now let’s take
a look at how Victor is planning to get us out of this place.”
That quickly becomes evident when Victor
leads us into the barn where they keep cattle. In the rear wall is
a door, almost invisible amidst the old, dark wooden planks. It
swings open on creaky hinges, showing us the world beyond the
fence. So there’s a hole in the barrier – a gate used by refugees
who have reconsidered the president’s promise of a perfect life
under Gideon’s law.
“How far is it to Exeter?” I say, gazing into
the distance.
“About seven miles.” Victor shoots me a
dubious look. “Are you sure you’re prepared enough for this
trip?”
“We have a map.” I grab Walt’s hand and drag
him along. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Make sure you follow the track running
downhill from here,” Victor warns us. “It will keep the border
patrol from seeing you once you go off into the wild.”
“Where do all the refugees go?” Walt wants to
know. “I thought the wilderness was poisoned land?”
Victor grins. “I’m not supposed to talk about
it. But don’t worry – all those selfish, violent thugs who escape
are better off out there.”
I’m happy we’re leaving. Victor’s sarcastic,
self-satisfied ways are starting to grate on my nerves. “And so
will we,” I add. “What time should we be back?”
“Before dark, please.”
Walt nods briefly and we walk out the door
hand in hand. Victor is right – there’s a narrow trail crossing the
moor, probably worn out by the feet of all the refugees who have
fled Dartmoor before.
“Well, we’re on our way,” Walt says, letting
out a relieved sigh once we end up at the bottom of the hill and
Dartmoor is hidden from view. “It’s about a two-hour walk.”
“Walk?” I smile at him. “Why would we
walk?”
“What do you suggest, sprout wings?”
I bump his shoulder. “No, silly. We’re going
to ride a horse.”
Walt seems even more puzzled now. “What?”
“Wild horses live on these moors,” I explain.
With my trained eyes, I spotted their tracks as soon as we left the
farm, not to mention all the dried-out horse pats. Walt has
probably never ridden a wild horse before, and already I’m
chuckling at the thought of him sitting behind me and desperately
clinging to my back during our trip. It doesn’t happen a
“That depends.” He gauges me with his green
eyes. “What’s in it for me?”
Oh. I hadn’t really expected that. So far,
we’ve only met charitable, selfless people in Dartmoor who said
they believed in miracles and generosity. This guy obviously has a
very different life philosophy. Which shouldn’t surprise me,
because he’s opposed to Dartmoor’s government. “Uhm,” I stammer.
“What would you like?”
An unpleasant smile creeps up Victor’s face
when his gaze rakes me up and down. “Well,” he starts out
suggestively.
Out of nowhere, Walt is between me and the
redhead. He shoots Victor a contemptuous glare. “Hold that thought,
and don’t say it out loud if you know what’s good for you,” he says
icily.
Victor turns pale. “Fine.”
An idea pops into my head. “I have this,” I
say, handing over the New Testament. “It isn’t worth much, but if
you help us I promise I’ll bring you an object from the cathedral.
You’ll get it when we come back.”
I see him swiftly considering my offer.
“Deal,” he says, his voice trembling slightly. Apparently, my
proposal is even more tempting than I thought.
He turns around and walks toward the farm.
Walt frowns at Victor before grabbing my hand. “What a
disrespectful brat,” he grumbles. “The way he looked you over. I
had half a mind to knock him over the head.”
I laugh nervously. “I wouldn’t do that around
here, if I were you. Before you know it, soldiers will be here,
needles at the ready.” I lean into him and kiss him gently on the
lips. “Thanks for standing up for me,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome,” he replies. “Now let’s take
a look at how Victor is planning to get us out of this place.”
That quickly becomes evident when Victor
leads us into the barn where they keep cattle. In the rear wall is
a door, almost invisible amidst the old, dark wooden planks. It
swings open on creaky hinges, showing us the world beyond the
fence. So there’s a hole in the barrier – a gate used by refugees
who have reconsidered the president’s promise of a perfect life
under Gideon’s law.
“How far is it to Exeter?” I say, gazing into
the distance.
“About seven miles.” Victor shoots me a
dubious look. “Are you sure you’re prepared enough for this
trip?”
“We have a map.” I grab Walt’s hand and drag
him along. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Make sure you follow the track running
downhill from here,” Victor warns us. “It will keep the border
patrol from seeing you once you go off into the wild.”
“Where do all the refugees go?” Walt wants to
know. “I thought the wilderness was poisoned land?”
Victor grins. “I’m not supposed to talk about
it. But don’t worry – all those selfish, violent thugs who escape
are better off out there.”
I’m happy we’re leaving. Victor’s sarcastic,
self-satisfied ways are starting to grate on my nerves. “And so
will we,” I add. “What time should we be back?”
“Before dark, please.”
Walt nods briefly and we walk out the door
hand in hand. Victor is right – there’s a narrow trail crossing the
moor, probably worn out by the feet of all the refugees who have
fled Dartmoor before.
“Well, we’re on our way,” Walt says, letting
out a relieved sigh once we end up at the bottom of the hill and
Dartmoor is hidden from view. “It’s about a two-hour walk.”
“Walk?” I smile at him. “Why would we
walk?”
“What do you suggest, sprout wings?”
I bump his shoulder. “No, silly. We’re going
to ride a horse.”
Walt seems even more puzzled now. “What?”
“Wild horses live on these moors,” I explain.
With my trained eyes, I spotted their tracks as soon as we left the
farm, not to mention all the dried-out horse pats. Walt has
probably never ridden a wild horse before, and already I’m
chuckling at the thought of him sitting behind me and desperately
clinging to my back during our trip. It doesn’t happen a
Similar Books
