The Rising Read Free Page B

more anxious. It was already driving me crazy, being this close to my grandmother, with her in there grieving for me. I kept thinking Corey was right, we were being overly paranoid and maybe, in that paranoia, losing our best chance. Maybe it wasn’t just paranoia, either. Maybe we’d become cowards. Unwilling to take a risk if it meant we might be captured, too.
    â€œI need to move,” I said finally as dusk fell.
    We were sitting against the neighboring cottage, the long grass hiding us. Nobody had spoken in almost an hour and when I did, the guys both jumped.
    â€œI just want to take a walk.” I glanced down at my trembling hands and clenched them into fists. “I’ll be careful.”
    Daniel looked at me, his head tilted, eyes dark, like he wanted to do something or say something. “Okay,” he said finally. Then, voice lowered another notch, “It’ll all be over soon.”
    You’ll see her soon is what he meant. I nodded and said I wouldn’t be long, then crawled through the long grass to a stand of forest. Only when I was deep enough in did I rise and begin to walk.
    Being in the forest only reminded me of my forest, which reminded me of my parents and our lives there and made me wonder whether we’d ever be able to go back. Almost certainly we wouldn’t go back. Salmon Creek was lost to us. My forest was lost to me.
    And it was only then that I truly understood what I’d had—a damned near perfect life. Days spent tramping through the wilderness with my dog, with Daniel, endless idyllic days when we had nothing more to worry about than planning the next school fund-raiser. Even that was hardly stressful—we’d put on an event and the town would open its wallets. The St. Clouds would make a huge donation, and everyone would tell us what an amazing job we’d done. Now I wondered if we could have slapped together a bake sale with tables full of stale Rice Krispies Treats and gotten the same results.
    The scientists had wanted us to grow up healthy and confident. Most of all, though, they wanted us to be happy, so that when we discovered the truth, we’d be okay with it.
    Would we have been okay with it? No. We’d never have forgiven them for the lie. But could we have reconciled ourselves to a life as research subjects and future Cabal employees? I should say no. Emphatically no. Yet I can see a future where that might have happened. If they’d raised us knowing what had been done to us and why. And if they’d given us a choice. Accept what we’re offering or you’re free to leave.
    I grieved for the loss of my old life, and I worried about my parents and my friends, and I couldn’t even walk it off because the patch of forest was so narrow. So I had to circle, which started to feel like pacing, and only made me all the more anxious. When my palms began to itch, I rubbed them against my jeans, still pacing, until the faint rubbing sound turned into a harsh rasp. I looked down to see the skin on my palms thickening, roughening. Hair had sprouted on the back of my hands. My cheeks itched, too, and when I reached up, I knew what I’d feel—the planes of my face changing, more hair sprouting. I barely had time to think “I’m shifting” when my knees gave way, like someone kicked them from behind. I fell to all fours, heaving, the air suddenly too thin, my chest too tight.
    Not now. Please not now.
    I closed my eyes, fingers digging into the dry earth, willing the transformation to stop. Pain ripped through me and I gritted my teeth against a scream.
    This hadn’t happened before. It never hurt before.
    Because you didn’t fight it before.
    But I had to stop it. I should be able to stop it.
    Only I couldn’t, and the harder I tried the more it hurt, the pain so strong I nearly passed out. If I did, then I’d finish the transformation in my sleep, as I had before. Either I let it happen