To Thee Is This World Given Read Online Free Page B

knowing it wasn’t personal. That it was ‘just one of those things.’”
    “Shit happens. If killing a million people saves a billion, it’s worth it. If you could’ve sacrificed a million people to stop this, you’d have done it in a heartbeat.”
    “Would I’ve?” She looked up at him, meeting his gaze full on. “And if it didn’t work?”
    “Doesn’t matter. You still got to try.”
    “You’re okay with killing a million people, just because you hope it might save the world?”
    He glanced away then shrugged. “Why not? If you do nothing, they’re dead anyway.”
    “You don’t know that. You’re still alive. I’m still alive. They might still be alive, too.”
    “The odds are against’em.”
    “Low odds are better than no odds.”
    “Yeah, well, you’d have to be a real dick to say there’s a chance you might live, so fuck everybody else.”
    “But at least if all you do is refuse to be sacrificed for them, you’re not condemning them to death. You’re just saying that we’re all in the same boat, and that the only person who gets to decide if you get tossed overboard, is you.” She lifted the turkey and began walking away.
    “Who the hell’s talking about sacrificing people? You got to play the hand you’re dealt. Life’s not fair.”
    She stopped and turned back towards him. “People are unfair, not life. Call it whatever you want, but condemning someone to die in the hope that you won’t have to is just trying to bribe fate. It’s no different than slitting someone’s throat over an altar in the hope that the gods will favor you in exchange.”
    Looking skyward, he shook his head. “Bribing fate? Slitting throats? What the fuck are you talking about?”
    “What else do you call letting someone die so that you can live?”
    “I call it making hard choices.”
    “How hard is it to do something that helps you?”
    “Really fucking hard. Especially when you don’t want to do it, but you have to ’cause you don’t have a choice.”
    “You always have a choice. You just convince yourself you don’t so you can pretend you aren’t doing something bad. Because you’re a good person and good people don’t do bad things. Unless they have to. Whatever that means.”
    “It means you have a damn good reason.”
    “It’s funny how good reasons never seem so good when you’re the one the bad thing’s being done to.” She turned around, walking away from him once more with the sun behind her and her shadow running ahead of her on the ground.
    He glared at her back, his mouth pressed tight in a narrow, rigid line, and threw his hand up after her. “It’s not like that.”
    “Then what is it like?”

5
    S he and the dogs curved through the oaks onto a bank beside a stream flowing quick and shallow into a still pool before rushing on its way. Beside the pool, two ancient live oaks, gnarled and weathered and stained by countless floods, stood arching away from each other, framing the sheer cliff on the far side of the stream. And behind them, the trees stood out in sharp relief against the aqua-gold sky, their shadows stretching out over the sand towards the water and their leaves rustling in the warm breeze.
    The dogs trotted over to the pool and began lapping up the water with large, rhythmic gulps. She set the turkey down and slipped off her backpack and arched her shoulders, rolling them back and stretching each arm over her head, pushing hard against the air as if it was a great weight.
    Favoring his ankle, he entered the clearing behind the three of them, stopping to watch as she wedged the turkey into the lowest crook of one of the giant oaks. He let his bags fall to the ground and examined his palms, wincing as he worked them open and closed.
    She climbed the oak closest to her, and half a dozen feet off the ground, braced herself against its giant trunk and fastened one side of a sleeping-hammock to it. Then she hopped down and pulled the other end up the second