The Reaping Read Online Free PDF Page A

in the colony, I saw it every day. I saw how happy they are. You did that.”
    I close my eyes, and the tears stream down my cheeks. I try to keep the whimper in my throat, but it escapes and gurgles out.
    “I don’t know what I can do to convince you. You are good, Terra. You can’t take responsibility for all the bad that happens.”
    Something in his voice changes, and I open my eyes. His face is inches from mine, and though my sight is blurry from crying, I can still make out the green in his eyes. His brown hair is wild from sleep and running, and he has a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. His lips turn down at the corners, and worry is written there and in the crease between his eyebrows.
    Somehow, I’m able to put aside the pain and look just at him. With the earnestness in his eyes, I believe every word he says. In my brain, I know Jack is right. It’ll just take a little longer to convince my heart. Jack leans his forehead against mine.
    I clutch his hands, sure that if I let go I’ll wake up from this dream and be back in the cabin, sleeping in the loft and wondering when I’ll run across another desperate band of nomads; surrounded by people but all alone. But Jack clutches me back just as hard, not even considering letting go. I’m thankful for that. He still understands me so well.
    We stay that way for I don’t know how many minutes before I realize my fingers are going numb and I finally loosen my grip. As I turn around, I freeze, staring at the black box thirty feet in front of me.
    A scanner is there—one that wasn’t there before.
    “What is it?” Jack follows my gaze to the scanner box. “Does that one still work?”
    Oh, it’s so much worse than that. It’s brand new.
    His arms drop to his sides. “You’re sure?”
    I nod and take two steps forward. Jack grabs my wrist.
    “Don’t go any closer. There’s something strange about that one.”
    I pause, cocking my head to one side as I stare at the scanner. He’s right. Most functional scanners make a faint mechanical whirring sound. This one is quiet as a grave. Only the sun reflecting off the glass at its top offers some semblance of life.
    What do you think?
    “Let’s give it a wide berth.”
    It seems silly to avoid a machine that reads trackers, seeing as neither of us has one. But still, we step in a wide circle around it. It isn’t until we’re ninety degrees from where we started that I look at it closely again and realize what’s been going on. Its glass head has been slowly pivoting to watch us. My gut clenches.
    It knows we’re here.
    Jack looks back at it and frowns. “Is it an automatic sweep? Or is it watching us?”
    I crouch down and Jack falls beside me. As we hit the ground, I watch the head keep its steady rotation until it’s facing away from us.
    Automatic.
    Jack lets out a breath. “Okay. Hurry while it’s not looking.”
    I don’t know if it scans for anything else besides a tracker, and I don’t want to stay around to find out. I jump up and lead the way through the woods. I follow a winding path between trees, hoping we’re well out of sight before its head swivels back our way.
    “How far to the cabin?”
    Not very.
    A shallow creek cuts across our path and burbles down the gentle slope south of us. I hop across the rocks in the stream, being careful not to get my shoes wet. Then I notice another of the new scanners. I stop behind a tree.
    “Another one?” Jack’s chest rises and falls, and he turns his head to peek out.
    I nod.
    “And we’re going straight ahead?”
    I nod again. About a mile.
    “We’re almost there.”
    My gut clenches when he says it. Not coincidence.
    “What isn’t?”
    New scanners so close to the cabin.
    His brow furrows. “Let’s get to the cabin before we decide that. The scanner is turning away. Get ready.”
    And then he’s off running through the trees again, his long legs stretching into bounding strides. I follow him, ducking under low branches and