Eve of Destruction Read Free Page B

She had been right about me, or so she thought.
    I was a coward.
    Mrs. Goring took one more look at us and let out a large, impatient sigh.
    â€œCome on, I’ve got pancakes and a jar of peanut butter at the Bunker. That’s all you’re getting.”
    She moved toward us, and we broke apart like crepe paper so she didn’t have to slow down. She was fast, four or five steps away before any of us tacitly agreed to eat her food by marching in line behind her.
    â€œI didn’t think you’d all come,” she said, turning and staring at Ben Dugan without stopping. “Especially him.”
    Ben didn’t take the implication that he was weak or spineless without firing back.
    â€œYou walk pretty fast for someone who’s supposed to be on her deathbed.”
    Mrs. Goring cackled, sending a crow flying off a nearby branch, screeching back at her.
    â€œWe’re all dying, Ben Dugan. Some of us a lot faster than others.”
    No one else tried going toe to toe with Mrs. Goring after that, and a heavy silence fell among us. When we reached the fort, Mrs. Goring unlocked the door, pushing it open.
    â€œYou know the drill. Wait at the table, I’ll bring the pancakes.”
    She started to walk away as we gathered like a flock of birds at the foot of the stairs leading up to the door. As I stared off toward her makeshift house I thought I saw a figure move near the front window. But the wind was blowing through the trees, casting long shadows over the Bunker and Fort Eden, playing tricks with my eyes.
    â€œIf you’re not dying, then why are we here?” Kate asked Mrs. Goring. She had a genuine look of curiosity on her face as Mrs. Goring stared coldly at me.
    â€œAsk him,” she said, and then she was moving toward the Bunker, the only other building on the property.
    Everyone stared at me, and I felt the weight of my Recorder in my back pocket.
    I knew there was something on the device I should have shown them before we left. I’d thought maybe Mrs. Goring really was dying, that my secret could stay hidden.
    But I had been wrong.
    Looking at Marisa and knowing what this might do to us, I wished Mrs. Goring would drop dead right there in the woods.
    â€œIt’s my Recorder,” I said. “I record things with it.” 3
    I sounded about as dumb as I looked, but it didn’t change the fact that I was making everyone nervous.
    â€œWhat kinds of things have you recorded?” asked Alex. He’d been fairly aloof up until then, but sitting around the table in a tight circle with the rest of us he was suddenly alert.
    I pushed a button on my Recorder, a device that had the look and feel of a first-generation digital music player.
    â€œI just recorded you talking, so there’s that.”
    â€œAnd it records video, too. Right, Will?” Marisa said. She knew all about it, just not all the stuff that was hidden inside, buried behind passwords.
    â€œWhy do I get the feeling you’ve got recordings of me on there?” asked Kate. It wasn’t so much a question as a statement: if you did that, I’m going to tell Connor to kick your ass.
    â€œLook, you guys . . .” I was getting an old familiar feeling of wanting to be alone. Under the table I took Marisa’s hand, partly because it was a comfort, but also because I had a bad feeling it might be the last time I’d ever get to do it. Mrs. Goring was going to be back any minute. I was cornered, trapped, unprepared.
    Better I tell them than have Mrs. Goring do the dirty work for me. It would only be worse.
    â€œJust tell us, Will,” said Marisa, squeezing my hand. “It can’t be that bad.”
    Oh yes it can , I thought.
    â€œBefore I came here, before we all came here,” I began, glancing between all the eyes staring back at me curiously. “I was afraid to be near anyone. You guys know that, right? You know I couldn’t come in here. I was a