Midnight Anna Dove (top 50 books to read txt) 📖

were vegetables, fish, and rabbit or venison, and for dinner there was the same. Food on the farm was not prepared for flavor, although it usually tasted delicious due to the freshness and absence of pesticides or chemicals; the purpose of food was caloric intake and energy required for survival. Nothing went to waste. Each person ate heartily but did not take more than was needed; all extras were smoked or dried or sealed for the late fall and winter, in which all the members of the community hoped to return to their own houses to weather the temperatures, but could not be sure of being able to do so. By that time, they hoped, much of the violence would have subsided and the return would be safer.

With Dayton in the lead, the party entered the farmhouse and never before in their lives had Haley felt such absolute relief; it was a moment in which she forgot the attack, forgot the proximity of death, of pain, of hunger, of fear. They were alive. They were here.

They walked through the foyer into the living room, which was filling with people, and a commotion burst out, as everyone welcomed them happily, Haley’s brothers and parents embracing Haley and Junetta. They were all there, all four brothers. Elizabeth knew the family already, and introduced Carlos to them, and then more members of the community came, family friends, with wide smiles and welcoming arms. For the first time since the attack, Haley felt safe.

17.  The Intruders

 

“When you're huntin' somepin you're a hunter, an' you're strong. Can't nobody beat a hunter. But when you get hunted - that's different. Somepin happens to you. You ain't strong: maybe you're fierce, but you ain't strong." - Muley”

―

John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

 

Not quite six in the morning, and the sky was growing lighter in the east. Haley slipped from the farmhouse, wearing a pair of jeans that she had brought from her parents’ house. The month of June had just arrived with its sweet floral bouquet of smells, its pleasant showers of spring rain, its cheerful young shoots of grass and its fledgling birds nesting in the treetops. Breathing in the warmth of the young morning, she stepped barefoot into the pasture that led towards the lake.

Passing the barn on her left with its red slats and concrete shearing station, she made her way down the dirt path that wound for a quarter mile through the cow pasture before ending at the lake. The cows were snug in the barn, ready for their morning milking, and the pasture was deserted save for the black eyed Susan’s that sprang up in little patches. Above her, the stars faded as dawn approached.

She reached the lake as the first beams of true sunlight pierced the heavens, reflecting in little golden ripples on the surface of the water. Wading into the cool water, she bent down and trailed her fingers on its surface, and then wading deeper, dove in with a splash. Swimming forward with long strokes under the water, she held her breath until she needed air and then rose to the surface, breathing deeply and tilting back her head. Treading for a moment, she surveyed the opposite bank, which was lined with a row of maple trees. The, she dipped her head underneath again and swam back towards the shore, relishing the feeling of the water flowing around her. When she climbed out onto the bank, her jeans hung on her hips, weighed down with the water and her linen shirt hung from her shoulders, dripping onto the ground.

Her feet once again trailed the brown path, past the barn, and she sat on the wooden stoop in front of the farmhouse door to dry off. The water dripped off her clothing, forming a puddle on the stoop. Her eyes rested on the pasture, and the woods beyond.

A movement, at the edge of the woods. Straining her eyes, she made out the shapes of four adult figures approaching. Quickly she rose and slipped inside the door, locking it, and ran into the hall adjoining most of the bedrooms.

“Get up,” she shouted, hitting her fists against their doors as she passed. “There are people coming.”

A flurry of doors opening, people passing through the hallways, weapons taken up. She hoped that the sentries in the woods had just missed the intruders, and that there had not been a skirmish. She had heard no shots fired this morning--the sentries must have not seen the intruders.

Silently watching at the windows, the occupants of the farmhouse waited, their guns cocked and loaded. Closer the four others came now, walking in a slow manner with their eyes on the ground before them. Within earshot, the four stopped, and regarded the farmhouse before walking towards the front door. Haley and eight others, including Carlos and Elizabeth and the Monteforte boys, surrounded the door by backing against the walls on either side of the doorframe while the remaining community members remained at the windows to watch for stragglers.

Steps sounded on the stoop heavily, and then stopped, and a knock, three raps evenly spaced.

Carlos, who was the first one to the left of the door, raised his finger to his lips and looked around at the group.

Three more raps, a little more emphatic.

Silence, not even a board creaking, not a breath, not an eyelash batting.

The doorknob jiggled, stopped. Carlos took a deep breath and raised his gun, but before he could move a volley of gunshots split the silence. The group flattened themselves against the wall as bullets tore through the door, leaving gaping holes through which sunshine and smoke poured. The bullets smashed into the china cabinet opposite the door, and teacups, teapots, and the glass behind which they sat shattered into pieces, flying into the air and crashing onto the ground.

Carlos motioned carefully, pointing to the two doorways leading