should report him to the authorities, or at least, take away his bow.” Sunnie gathered her hair into a ponytail and corralled it with her purple scrunchie. “Old people have very poor eyesight.”
Great, now the inside of Mavis’s head hurt, too. She reached for the handle and yanked open the car door. “Get. In. Side.”
Proper elocution did not require moving her jaw.
Sunnie frowned at the Civic’s butter cream interior. “Why is he firing at us anyway?”
Could teenagers do anything on a sane timetable? With the flat of her palm, Mavis spun her around and pushed her toward the open door.
Pausing with her hands on the roof of the car, Sunnie twisted at the waist and rose up on her toes. “We live in this neighborhood, you douche bag. Stop shooting at us!”
“Did it ever occur to you that Mr. Quartermain isn’t the one firing arrows?” Mavis grabbed the back of her niece’s jacket and tugged her down before shoving her face first into the car. “Stay inside and stay down.”
“Of course, it is. No one else would use such a stupid weapon.” Using her feet, Sunnie stopped the door before it could close. “He can’t do this to us, Aunt Mavis.”
“Well, he did.” Blades of yellow light cut across the dark street. Mavis checked her watch. Six-twenty. Curfew was officially in effect. She glanced toward the main intersection.
The cherry on her day would be if the Marines went patrolling in their tanks.
She didn’t want to be blown up any more than she wanted to be shot with an arrow.
Should they abandon the car and walk home? By cutting through the park, they could be home in five minutes. But they’d be unprotected, out in the open. She could think of five places where a sniper could ambush them from the safety of the bushes. And then there was the fence hemming in part of the park.
No walking. No splitting up. They’d take the car, together. But first, she had to get through that lock.
“You work for the government.” Sunnie jerked forward when Mavis reopened her door. “Tell him.”
“In case you missed it, the government isn’t exactly in charge. It was people like Mr. Quartermain who kept the looters, rapists and other undesirables out.” Had the power made him nuts? Mavis doubted it. Despots, dictators and tyrants gave glimmers of the sickening hunger long before they seized absolute power.
Someone else pulled that bow string.
Her skin tightened over her skeleton. She hated unknowns. They had a tendency to blow up in her face. She stroked the white scar following her jaw line. Sometimes literally. Crouching behind the door, she swept her niece’s legs inside then reached under the seat.
“But it’s not right.”
Had she ever been that naive, believed the Hollywood fairytale that good would triumph over evil? Mavis’s fingers brushed smooth duct tape before encountering cold metal.
“People didn’t conform to that rule before the Rattling Death.” Wrapping her hand around the hard edges, she pulled. The ripping sound echoed around the car.
“Well, they should have. We live here. We’re just trying to…” Sunnie jumped on her seat before hugging her knees to her chest. “What are you doing?”
“Surviving.” Mavis rocked back on her heels and inspected the gun. Her tongue felt overly large in her mouth. Stars twinkled in front of her eyes before she deepened her breathing.
Yanking the silver duct tape off the Sig-Sauer, she checked the chamber. A shiny brass casing winked back at her. She ejected the magazine. Full. Good. She might need all thirteen rounds. With shaking hands, she shoved the clip home, spun about and scanned the area.
Not even a lizard stirred in the skeletal remains of the hedge. As for the dumpsters and burned out cars... Mavis dismissed them. The arrow had come from high ground. She focused on the trees. Although two stories tall, the scraggly pines couldn’t conceal the fading pink rays of daylight.
Nowhere to hide there.
“Where did you
Great, now the inside of Mavis’s head hurt, too. She reached for the handle and yanked open the car door. “Get. In. Side.”
Proper elocution did not require moving her jaw.
Sunnie frowned at the Civic’s butter cream interior. “Why is he firing at us anyway?”
Could teenagers do anything on a sane timetable? With the flat of her palm, Mavis spun her around and pushed her toward the open door.
Pausing with her hands on the roof of the car, Sunnie twisted at the waist and rose up on her toes. “We live in this neighborhood, you douche bag. Stop shooting at us!”
“Did it ever occur to you that Mr. Quartermain isn’t the one firing arrows?” Mavis grabbed the back of her niece’s jacket and tugged her down before shoving her face first into the car. “Stay inside and stay down.”
“Of course, it is. No one else would use such a stupid weapon.” Using her feet, Sunnie stopped the door before it could close. “He can’t do this to us, Aunt Mavis.”
“Well, he did.” Blades of yellow light cut across the dark street. Mavis checked her watch. Six-twenty. Curfew was officially in effect. She glanced toward the main intersection.
The cherry on her day would be if the Marines went patrolling in their tanks.
She didn’t want to be blown up any more than she wanted to be shot with an arrow.
Should they abandon the car and walk home? By cutting through the park, they could be home in five minutes. But they’d be unprotected, out in the open. She could think of five places where a sniper could ambush them from the safety of the bushes. And then there was the fence hemming in part of the park.
No walking. No splitting up. They’d take the car, together. But first, she had to get through that lock.
“You work for the government.” Sunnie jerked forward when Mavis reopened her door. “Tell him.”
“In case you missed it, the government isn’t exactly in charge. It was people like Mr. Quartermain who kept the looters, rapists and other undesirables out.” Had the power made him nuts? Mavis doubted it. Despots, dictators and tyrants gave glimmers of the sickening hunger long before they seized absolute power.
Someone else pulled that bow string.
Her skin tightened over her skeleton. She hated unknowns. They had a tendency to blow up in her face. She stroked the white scar following her jaw line. Sometimes literally. Crouching behind the door, she swept her niece’s legs inside then reached under the seat.
“But it’s not right.”
Had she ever been that naive, believed the Hollywood fairytale that good would triumph over evil? Mavis’s fingers brushed smooth duct tape before encountering cold metal.
“People didn’t conform to that rule before the Rattling Death.” Wrapping her hand around the hard edges, she pulled. The ripping sound echoed around the car.
“Well, they should have. We live here. We’re just trying to…” Sunnie jumped on her seat before hugging her knees to her chest. “What are you doing?”
“Surviving.” Mavis rocked back on her heels and inspected the gun. Her tongue felt overly large in her mouth. Stars twinkled in front of her eyes before she deepened her breathing.
Yanking the silver duct tape off the Sig-Sauer, she checked the chamber. A shiny brass casing winked back at her. She ejected the magazine. Full. Good. She might need all thirteen rounds. With shaking hands, she shoved the clip home, spun about and scanned the area.
Not even a lizard stirred in the skeletal remains of the hedge. As for the dumpsters and burned out cars... Mavis dismissed them. The arrow had come from high ground. She focused on the trees. Although two stories tall, the scraggly pines couldn’t conceal the fading pink rays of daylight.
Nowhere to hide there.
“Where did you
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