One night, when we made camp a bit earlier than usual, I wandered toward the campfire and was shocked to find Zeke sitting near the f lames, reading to Bethany and Caleb. Stunned, I crept closer, hardly able to believe it. But he was reading, his low, smooth voice reciting passages from the large black book in his lap, the two kids perched on either side.
"'Moses stretched out his hand over the sea,'" Zeke said quietly, scanning the pages before him, "'and at daybreak the sea went back to its place. The Egyptians were f leeing toward it, and the Lord swept them into the sea. The water f lowed back and covered the chariots and horsemen-the entire army of Pharaoh that had followed the Israelites into the sea. Not one of them survived.'
"'But the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left. That day the Lord saved Israel from the hands of the Egyptians, and Israel saw the Egyptians lying dead on the shore. And when the Israelites saw the mighty hand of the Lord displayed against the Egyptians, the people feared the Lord and put their trust in Him and in Moses, His servant.'"
A bitter lump caught in my throat. For just a moment, I saw myself and Stick, huddled together in the cold shell of my room, an open book between us. Zeke didn't look up, didn't notice me, but I listened to his calm, quiet voice as he read, watched Caleb and Bethany hang on his every word and felt a strange sense of longing pull at my stomach.
"Ezekiel!"
Jebbadiah's voice echoed over the campground, and Zeke raised his head. Seeing the old man waiting for him several yards away, he closed the book and put it in Caleb's arms.
"Hang on to it for a second," I heard him murmur, ruff ling the boy's hair as he stood. "I'll be right back." When Zeke left, curiosity drew me closer, wanting to see the book, to hold it in my hands and read the title. Bethany looked up, spotted me, and her eyes got wide. Scrambling to her feet, she ran off after Zeke, leaving Caleb sitting alone by the fire, a vampire looming over him.
Puzzled, Caleb craned his neck, looking back at me, and smiled. "Hi, Allie!" he said as I moved up beside him. "If you're looking for Zee, he just left. He'll be right back, though."
"Can I see that?" I asked, pointing to the leather-bound tome in his arms. Caleb hesitated.
"It's Zee's book," he said uncertainly, holding it tighter.
"He told me to watch it for him."
"I won't hurt it," I promised, kneeling in the cool grass.
"Please?"
He paused a second more, then brightened.
"Okay, but only if you read me something."
"I..." A part of me recoiled, remembering all those lessons with Stick, and how he stuck a knife in my back for my trouble. But I was still curious, and if this was the only way to see the book without tearing it out of Caleb's hands... "I guess so," I said, and Caleb beamed at me.
Handing it over, he scooted close and perched beside my leg, listening expectantly. Settling back, I gazed down at the leather-bound tome, the first real book I'd seen since f leeing New Covington. It didn't have a title, just the symbol of a gold cross gleaming in the center of the cover, much like the one Zeke wore around his neck. I held the book on its side and saw the edges of the paper were gilded gold, too.
"Read something, Allie," Caleb insisted, bouncing next to me. I rolled my eyes and opened the book with a crackling of pages, turning to where a ribbon bookmarked the middle.
It seemed as good a place to start as any.
I read slowly, for the letters were tiny and strange, a style I hadn't seen before, "'Again, I looked and saw all the oppres-sion that was taking place under the sun: I saw the tears of the oppressed-and they have no comforter; power was on the side of their oppressors-and they have no comforter.'" I felt a chill in my stomach. When was this passage written? The tears of the oppressed, and the power of their oppressors, with no comfort on either side. It seemed to be speaking about the entire world, right now. I swallowed hard and continued.
"'And I declared that the dead, who had already died, are happier than the living, who are still alive. But better than both...is the one who has never been born, who has not seen the evil that is done under the sun.'" I shivered and closed the book. Caleb watched me, a confused frown on his face. "What does that mean?" he asked.
"That
that particular passage," said a new voice from above us, "was not meant for certain little ears." Embarrassed, I stood quickly, facing Zeke, who had walked up with a half amused, half concerned look on his face. "Go get dinner, rug rat," he told Caleb, who grinned and scam-pered off toward Ruth and the crowd that was gathering around her. Zeke looked at me, furrowing his brow, though his expression was more intrigued than upset. "I didn't know you could read," he said in a low voice.
I shrugged, holding out the book. "Kind of a depressing story," I said, unwilling to reveal how much it spooked me.
Zeke smiled as he accepted it.
"Some parts of it are," he agreed. "But there are others that can be quite comforting, if you know where to look."
"Like
where?"
He paused, then opened the book again, f lipping to a certain spot as if he had them memorized. "This one," he said, handing the book back to me, pointing to a certain line. "My favorite quote."
"Zeke!" called another voice, Ruth's this time, echoing shrilly over the campground. "Did you tell Darren he could have your share of the jerky?"
"What? No!" Zeke whirled around as Darren jogged away, laughing. As Zeke took off after him, Darren shouting he'd better catch up before he ate his share of the meal, I bent to the passage Zeke pointed out.
"'Yea,'" I muttered, stumbling over the archaic word,
"'though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For you are with me.'" A nice thought, I mused, watching the boys chase each other around the campground. But I knew better. Jeb was right; there was no one watching out for us. And the sooner Zeke came to realize that, the longer he would survive this hell.
"Sneaking off, are you?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes. "Jeb won't like it. Where are you going?"
"Why don't you just make something up?" I said, taking a step forward, pleased when she hastily backed up. "That's what you've been doing all this time, right?" She f lushed, and my smile widened. "I notice you don't talk to Zeke or Jeb when you're spreading your lies. Afraid they'll see the forked tongue come out?"
She looked as if she wanted to slap me, and a part of me hoped she would. I bet she wouldn't be nearly so smug with a missing tooth. For a moment, she struggled to control herself, gripping the bowls of stew so that her delicate knuckles turned white. "I don't know what you're talking about," Ruth said at last, and I snorted. Glancing at the bow in my hand, she sneered at me and raised her chin. "You think you're going to bring something back? What do you know about hunting?
If you think Zeke will notice your pathetic attempt to show off, you're sadly mistaken."
"Yes, shooting a deer so the lot of you won't starve because of the delusional paranoia of a madman is me showing off." I rolled my eyes. "What a brilliant assumption. Why don't you go tell Jeb that?"