Midnight by Anna Dove (books for new readers .TXT) 📕

Carlos stepped forward and the young women followed. The trio descended onto the wooden planks of the dock, to which the boats were tied.

“Here,” said Haley softly, motioning to a rowboat. “No sail. Less visibility.”

Filing into the tiny rowboat, they stepped gingerly as it swayed under their weight. Haley tucked her bag in the back and grabbed an oar, sitting on the wooden seat towards the stern. Carlos took the other oar, seating himself on the other seat, and Elizabeth sat between them. Carlos untied the boat from the pier, and threw the rope overboard.

“Row,” he muttered.

Under the cold light of the moon, the rowboat slipped from the pier towards the opposite bank. The Potomac flowed steadily, and Carlos and Haley carefully corrected the direction of the rowboat, keeping its bow pointed at the opposite bank. The dark water ripples around their oars, and the sound of the little splashed and pulls were the only noises to be heard.

Before long they neared the opposite shore, Maryland. They increased the speed towards land, pulling long strokes on the oars, forcing the bow up onto the grassy land in a sudden halt. Elizabeth jumped into the shallow water and pulled the boat the rest of the way onto land; Haley and Carlos stepped onto the grass. There was no movement around them; they were landed on a grassy knoll that sloped into the woods.

“Let me take the front,” responded Elizabeth. “I think I can find the farm from here.”

She stepped to the front, and Carlos put Haley in the middle.

“Let me take the rear,” he said, and Haley gladly accepted.

The trio began into the wooded area. It was not thick with trees but rather a light forest, filled with maples and oaks and fortunately few brambles and low bushes. They traipsed easily through, their eyes straining for movement and their ears trained for any sound. All they could hear was the crunch of the leaves below their feet, the chirping of the spring peepers, and the soft whispering of the wind in the foliage.

The moon rose higher in the sky, casting a strange luminescence in between the shadows of the trees. It was the first time in a long time that any of them had been awake at this hour in the woods. Haley realized that she had forgotten the quiet woodland night air, the fresh breeze, the cool light, and the sense that the world was still very awake at this hour, though in a different way, awake as if stealthily biding its time until morning, breathing in and out in quiet watchfulness.

It crossed her mind that they were very fortunate. How many would be dead by now--killed in fighting over necessities. Water, food. Medicine. The hospitals.

She didn’t want to think any more about that, and so she forced herself onto a different topic. Anything--what could distract? Wilderness survival techniques. There’s a useful thing to think about. The Swiss Family Robinson...hadn’t they made explosives out of coconuts? Maybe that was the movie, not the book. To beat the pirates? That wasn’t so useful here--no coconuts, no pirates. What else had they done? They had built a treehouse, an extravagant sprawling one by the pictures. Had they also killed a tiger? Oh--a better guide, the Survivor’s Handbook that she and her brothers had poured through when they were younger, fantasizing about how they would use all of these techniques when they were inevitably stranded on a desert island or in a deep jungle. They had romanticized survival, and had even played at it in the woods behind their house, sewing leaves together with thin grass thread, building fires and forts, gathering berries--but not the poke berries. Poke berries would kill you. So they made ink, and found bird feathers, and sharpened the tips and made quills and the most rich purple ink that somehow ended up all over their hands and faces and hair.

Elizabeth suddenly stopped and threw her arm out to the side. The others stopped too, their hearts racing.

“Farm,” she muttered under his breath, barely audibly. “The barn is off to our left, but be very quiet—it is within view of the house. Follow me.”

The three crept forward. Soon they were at the end of the wooded area, facing a fenced pasture. A barn and a house sat not fifty yards from them, clearly visible by the light of the moon. Haley wished that she could simply be pretending that this was all true, romanticizing survival and playing make believe in her backyard with her brothers. Instead, it was terribly and frighteningly real.

They moved from the shadows of the woods into the pasture and approached the barn cautiously, slipping through the fence, stepping lightly on the grass on the balls of their feet, holding their breaths. The moonlight illuminated the ground, casting a faint iridescent glow on the specks of dew that were appearing in the frosty midnight air.  No birds sang, no bugs flitted about. The chill of the April night crept up their necks to their cheeks, nipped their noses, and made their eyes glassy. Haley kept her hand on the handle of her gun, watching the doors and windows of the farmhouse as they approached the adjoining barn. All was dark inside; not a soul stirred.

They reached the barn door. A long bolt was drawn across the wooden front. Haley immediately smelled the strong scent of horses and hay as Elizabeth quietly slid open the bolt, being careful not to scrape it on the metal loop in which it rested. Elizabeth pulled open the door, and she and Haley entered noiselessly, while Carlos stayed outside to keep watch.

There was an open space in the roof where a panel was missing, and moonlight streamed into the stable. Ten or twelve horse stalls