Читать книгу The Last Musician - Jason Peterson - Страница 10

The idea was simple enough. Create a diversion, and make a run for it. Although, as with all plans, the potential for disaster was real.

Kristoffer crouched in Elder Heckle’s cramped basement. Across his shoulder was one of the Elder’s leather satchels, which he and Ethel had quickly stocked with enough food and water to last Kristoffer for a few days. After that, he would be on his own. They had also packed the note, and at the last second Elder Heckle had given Kristoffer a small wooden flute he had whittled as a young boy many years ago. It was a good luck token, Elder Heckle had said. And maybe it would be useful along the way.

Kristoffer opened the small window leading to Elder Heckle’s backyard. People were all over the place, spilling over from the front. He saw neighbors, church members, and Ethel’s old friends. They argued. Pushed each other. Screamed. Whatever was happening to them was tearing them apart.

Wait for the signal, Kristoffer thought. Wait for it.

“The boy is coming out.” Kristoffer heard the words, and he knew at that moment, Elder Heckle and Ethel were opening the front door. They were to pretend they were caught up in the anger and they were dragging Kristoffer out to be destroyed by the masses. They knew it was probably only a matter of time before they were caught up in it too.

The crowds behind the house stopped fighting and started walking to the front. Kristoffer knew he had to make a run for it just after they left but before they discovered he was not there.

He waited for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds, then stuck his head out. No one was there.

“Get the boy. Get the boy.”

He heard the chant from the front of the house as he climbed out the window. The satchel snagged, and as he tried to yank it free, he heard the commotion from the front of the house grow louder. Shouts and jeers. Did they know he wasn’t there? Were they coming around to get him? Was Ethel safe?

He couldn’t worry about that now. The satchel broke free, and he ran as fast as he could across the backyard. He looked back once and saw the mob overtaking the house like a colony of ants on a hill. He hoped it would not be the last image he ever had of Greenwood.