Chapter 2

"He wouldn't... Mike wouldn't just leave us!" Martha, Mike's mother, pushed through the small crowd, her face a mask of disbelief.

"He did, Martha," I said, my voice flat. "He took the bus, the men, the guns. For Lila."

The name hung in the air, ugly and heavy. Lila, the woman Mike had "rescued" from the desert three months ago. The woman who had him wrapped around her little finger.

"That... that hussy!" Martha spat, her disbelief turning to a familiar, sharp anger. "I told him! I told him she was trouble!"

The other women murmured, a chorus of fear and rising anger.

"What do we do, Sarah?" Emily clutched my arm, her knuckles white. "The Vultures... they'll be here soon."

I looked around at the small, terrified group. We had maybe a dozen hunting rifles, old ones, and not enough ammunition. No real way to fight. No way to run.

Except...

"The old Peterson mine," I said, the words coming out before I fully formed the thought. "It's not much, but the main shaft is deep. We can hide there."

It was a desperate plan. The mine was unstable, a relic from a forgotten silver rush. But it was better than waiting here in the open.

"Everyone, grab what water and food you can, quickly! And blankets! Anything warm!" I yelled, trying to project a confidence I didn't feel.

The women scattered, a flurry of panicked movement.

I saw Chloe, Mike's younger sister, standing alone, her face pale and tear-streaked. She was just a kid, sixteen.

"Chloe," I said, my voice softer. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, fresh tears welling. "He... he wouldn't listen. I heard the alarm. I tried to tell him, before he left with the bus. I said you were worried."

"What did he say?"

"He said I was being foolish, like you. That you were filling my head with nonsense because you were jealous of Lila. He... he slapped me."

My heart ached for her. Mike had always been a bully, but this...

"He told me to stay here and not ruin Lila's special day," Chloe whispered.

The distant rumble was louder now. Definitely motorcycles.

"There's no time," I said, grabbing Chloe's hand. "We have to go. Now."

We herded the women and children towards the rocky outcrop that hid the entrance to the Peterson mine. It was a narrow, dark hole in the side of a hill, smelling of damp earth and disuse.

The younger children started to cry, scared of the darkness.

"It's okay, sweetie," I heard Emily coo to her little boy. "It's like a cave. An adventure."

If only.

We squeezed inside, the air growing colder, the light from the entrance fading.

Martha was surprisingly strong, helping the older women, her earlier anger replaced by a grim determination.

I was last in, pulling a heavy, rotted wooden door partially closed over the entrance. It wouldn't stop anyone determined, but it might hide us for a while.

Darkness enveloped us, broken only by a few flickering flashlights. The sounds from outside were muffled, but the thrum of engines was unmistakable now. Closer.

They were here.

Panic, thick and suffocating, filled the cramped space. Children whimpered. Someone was praying softly.

I thought of Mike, out at Devil's Canyon, laughing with Lila, oblivious. Or maybe not oblivious. Maybe he just didn't care.

The memory of his boot, his face, flashed in my mind.

This time, if I survived, he would pay.