Page 70 of Veil of Silence

Christian stood and pulled on his shoes. “Hurry.”

The boy didn’t move.

Another knock came, harder this time. Then the man’s voice carried through the door. “It’s time.”

Christian grabbed the boy’s sweatshirt from the floor and tossed it toward him. The boy caught it against his chest.

“Get up,” Christian whispered.

“I’m tired.”

“I know. I am too. But we don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t want to.” He didn’t want to walk through the dark or feel the rocks scraping his hands again. Mostly, he didn’t want to hear the man say this was for his own good.

Christian glanced toward the door. “Neither do I.”

As the handle began to turn, the boy shoved his arms into the sweatshirt and scrambled to his feet.

The man stood in the hallway with a flashlight in one hand. He didn’t smile as Christian stepped into the hall and the boy followed.

Three other boys were already waiting outside their rooms. The youngest rubbed his eyes with one fist, and another had put his shirt on backward. Nobody spoke as they walked single file through the building and out the back door.

Cold air hit the boy’s face, and the ground stung his bare ankles. He wished he’d taken time to put on socks.

The man led them down a narrow path through the trees. The boy watched Christian’s shoes in front of him and tried not to stumble over the roots.

Nobody told them where they were going. Nobody ever did.

The clearing appeared ahead, washed in the harsh glow of a floodlight. Two piles of rocks waited beneath it, one on the left and one on the right.

The man pointed toward the rocks. “You know what to do.”

The boys spread out.

The boy went to the left pile and picked up a rock. It was heavier than it looked, with a rough edge that dug into his palm.

He carried it across the clearing and dropped it onto the pile on the right. Then he went back for another. And another.

His arms began to hurt before the first pile was half gone. When the youngest boy started crying, the man didn’t even look at him.

“Keep working.”

The boy carried another rock. His fingers had gone numb, and his breath came in white bursts.

He didn’t know what time it was or how long they’d been asleep before the singing began. He only knew they had moved these same rocks two nights ago.

Except then they had carried them from the right pile to the left.

He glanced at Christian. “Why do we keep doing this?”

The man heard him. “What did you say?”

Christian quickly picked up another rock. “Nothing.”

Footsteps crossed the frozen ground, and the boy lowered his gaze as a shadow fell across his feet.

“You have a question?” the man asked.