Serena’s eyes filled. “You could have kept it. Instead, you shared.”
“Of course. We women have to stick together, right?” Because they had, even if silently.
Kit smiled at Serena. “When Obadiah broke my finger, you stacked the firewood in my arms so I wouldn’t have to pick it up.” Being damaged or ill wasn’t considered a reason to excuse a woman from working.
“When I burned the bread,” Serena nudged Mary, “you took the blame.”
“After Bryson left me so bruised I could barely move”—Ellie turned to Layla—“you abandoned your own chores to take on my job doing the laundry.”
There were smiles and misty eyes as they shared and remembered.
“We women stick together,” Kit repeated softly.
“Yes. That’s right.” Mary’s lips trembled, but she nodded firmly.
Mary had been married for thirty years. Her husband hadn’t given her a choice in joining the PZs and had refused to let her leave.
“Hey, we totally forgot. The staff put out drinks and snacks for us.” Layla rose. “Over on the table—”
A crash came from outside the room. Then a man’s shout, “Bitch, where are our women?”
Kit jumped to her feet at the sound of the voice from her worst nightmares. Her mouth went dry.
“That’s Captain Nabera.” Layla was whimpering.
Doors slammed. Near the front of the building, women were screaming.
Nabera shouted, “Door-to-door search.”
There was the hard sound of boots on wooden floors.
“They’re here. Dear God, they’re here,” Serena moaned.
Children scrambled from the corner, fleeing to their mothers.
Run, run, run. Heart hammering, Kit turned in a circle, frantically looking for an exit.
She didn’t know how to escape the room.
Situational awareness. Why hadn’t she paid attention as Hawk had said?
A child shrieked, and Kit almost panicked, thinking it was Aric. No. Her son was safe with Hawk.
There were other children here. Her fear was pushed aside by determination. Help the children.
She spun and snapped out, “Miriam, block the door.”
Dashing across the room to another door, she yanked it open, hoping it would lead to somewhere that could be barricaded better.
It was a closet only big enough for one person. Worthless.
At the door to the hallway, Miriam braced a chair under the handle. Others pushed more furniture against the door and the chair.
A man’s voice came from the hallway. “There’s someone in there. Sounds like kids.”
Mothers immediately silenced their children, as he rattled the handle and tried to open the door. “It’s braced shut,” he hollered. “Fucking cunts.”
A bullet came through the door—and someone let out a shriek.
Other men were talking.
“Yeah, got women in here.”
“Might have some fun before we leave, huh?”
“Get that door open.” The voice was Captain Nabera’s. “Get a hatchet.”
Shaking started deep inside Kit’s body as if her very bones vibrated with fear.
Think, Kit, think. “If someone has a phone, call 911.” Living in the compound, the women had lost the almost instinctive response of calling the emergency number.
One woman whipped out a phone.
When the men break in, we’ll be trapped here. Kit headed for the door to outside.
“Yes,” Mary agreed. “We need to get out of this room.” She started shoving women and children that direction.
Kit shoved the door open and went out with the wave of people.
Outside, she could almost hear Hawk’s voice. Where is your line of retreat?
She moved away from the building to look around. The outside area was a small meditation spot. A thick privet hedge with no openings divided it from the other sides of the yard. The far wall was the six-feet tall privacy fence that enclosed the grounds.
They’d never get the children over that fence before getting caught.
Kit scowled. Screaming wouldn’t help. The area was residential. No one would come running to help.
Loud thumps showed the men were battering down the door into the room.
“Block this door too,” Mary ordered. She’d pulled a folding chair out with her.
Men’s voices came from the other sides of the privet hedge, sounding frustrated. The thick bushes blocked them for the moment.
The women would soon be flanked, as Hawk’s westerns would say.
Those western heroes—the Sacketts—often escaped pursuit by fleeing up a mountain. “Where’s a darn mountain when I…”
Her voice trailed off as she spotted a ladder leaning against the side of the house. Stacks of shingles and tools were scattered on the roof.
With yells of success, the men made it into the room and started rattling the handle of the outside door.
Fear swamping her in a cold deluge, Kit ran toward the ladder.
No. Not without the others.
She shoved her panic down and grabbed the nearest woman. “Up the ladder, Serena. Now.”
Serena climbed the ladder onto the roof, followed by Daisy. The older children followed, scrambling up like monkeys. Women carried their babies and younger children, getting help from the unencumbered.
Finally, Mary went up.
Kit had her hands on the first rung when men kicked out the glass and came out the windows into the meditation garden.
She went up the ladder like her feet were on fire and swung onto the roof. “Pull the ladder up!”
The women were herding the children to the steep valley between two roofs—one over the original house and another over a garage add-on. The V would provide a hiding place rather than making them easy targets.
Two of the strongest women started lifting the ladder, hand over hand.
The men let out a yell and grabbed it.
Noooo. Snatching up loose shingles, Kit flung them down at the PZs.
Yelling in pain and outrage, the men batted at the barrage.
The ladder was free.
“Pull,” Mary shouted, and the women hauled the ladder up and out of reach.
The crack of a gunshot sounded, and something stung Kit’s outer arm. Following the others, she dove for the V to get out of sight.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Obadiah’s treacherous bitch up there.”
At the sound of Captain Nabera’s cruel voice, Kit felt her courage shrivel into a tight ball of fear. Her mouth was too dry to swallow.
She edged out enough to look at him. I’m out of reach. He can’t touch me.
The knowledge didn’t help.
His gaze met hers, and his mouth curved in a vicious smile. “Come down, cunt, and I’ll let you live. Otherwise, all they’ll find of you will be tiny pieces.”
As if to make sure she understood, he snapped at another man, “Set the explosives, inside and out.”
They’d blow up the house? Her mouth went dry.
“You’re one of us, and Obadiah’s gone.” Nabera softened his voice. “Lower the ladder, Kirsten. Come down to me, and you’ll live.”
The twisted lust in his gaze turned her stomach until she thought she’d heave. She’d seen his expression while Obadiah was kicking and punching her. In his hands, she wouldn’t live; she’d die screaming.