How to Raise an Assassin

CHAPTER 33: THE FIRST REAPER

Sunlight awakened me. I was lying in a bed of tall stems of wheat. My body ached, and my head hurt.

I heard voices above me, too many to count. They were singing something in unison led by one member who recited a verse that was collectively repeated by the others around.

"A life of freedom is a life worth fighting," sang a man with a voice that had bass that shook my body out of its shock and awoke me fully from this bed of dirt.

"A life of freedom is a life worth fighting," chanted the others—men, women, children.

The lead singer's voice sounded closer to me as the wheat rustled in front of me. "And God created us all-good and mighty."

As the other repeated the lines, I heard blades cutting through the wheat around me. This could become a problem if those blades harvested me along with the wheat.

"Satan's tail sings to us with a rattle," he sang as his shadow loomed overhead. I fought the aching pain to push myself up off the ground. I wasn't sure where I was. Was this part of the fifth stage of initiation? If so, I didn't think I could handle anymore hurt. And where was Ash?

After the others repeated, the man sang his last verse. "He shatters good into evil with a battle."

And after the others repeated, the curtain of wheat was yanked from in front of me. I was standing clutching my stomach. The man stopped and backed up.

"Whoa there little missy, where'd you come from?" he said with a twang that didn't really match the times. He was beaded with sweat beneath the hot sun. He wore a tank-top that was dirty with grime and yellow-stains. He had muscles that looked like they could forge iron. His hair was nappy, but he had not an ounce of facial hair.

"Mr. Kendrick, we just gonna stop with the singing?" shouted a feminine voice from beyond the fields that sounded almost as gruff as Auntie's.

"Miss Emma, you may wanna see this," said Kendrick. "I think we gots ourselves a survivor."

The tall grass of wheat parted to my left and blocking the sunlight was a thick white woman with blond hair wearing a tank-top that sweated with as much grime as Kendrick's.

My eyes widened. This can't be. Her blue eyes, the curls of her blond hair, her thick frame, the patch of pink skin on her upper right arm and a dark patch on the top of her right wrist.

I used to pass her portrait every single day going up to my room. "Momma Emma?"

Emma stared at me as if I were a fallen star. Then she locked eyes on my chest. I looked at myself and noticed that I looked like I escaped a pack of wolves. My clothes were torn. Blood coated my jeans. And the soles of my shoes had mouths that exposed my toes.

But she wasn't focused on that. She was staring at the burn mark...the one just above my right breast where the shirt was torn just enough to see the sickle born mark that looked like a crescent moon.

"Help me get this young child inside Kendrick and have everyone take a break while I tend to her."

"Sure thing Miss Emma, but you know the harvest is due at the market in two days and we can't afford to lose out on time. We'll continue working..."

"No Kendrick. You don't work unless I'm working with you. You ain't in the south anymore."

She reached down and lifted me up in her arms. The sunlight blazed down upon me. The heat was intense. I looked around me and saw the eyes of many staring at me. Most were African American or Native American. They had looks of concern on their face and trembled in fear.