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I picked Jenny up and ran. I ran for my fucking life back into the living room while screaming Day’s name over and over and over again. I ran outside, Jenny’s weight straining my arms, and screamed for him.
“Mama!” Day sobbed from behind me in the kitchen. I whirled around just as he crawled out of one of the lower kitchen cabinets, his face pale and stained with tears.
“Oh, my God, baby,” I sobbed, dropping to my knees and gathering him against me and Jenny. I crawled across the floor, holding them both, until I was flush with the crook of the corner cabinet, all three of us tucked into a shadow.
I untied the ropes binding Jenny’s feet together, then reached up and felt through the dark for the junk drawer, grabbing a pair of scissors.
“Is she hurt?” Day hiccupped.
I shook my head, my hands trembling so badly I was afraid I’d be the one to hurt her if I wasn’t careful.
I slowly cut the tape away from her mouth, careful not to rip the tape off completely. She coughed and gagged, shaking her head violently before growling deeply in her throat.
“Go get Grant,” I hissed, my hands on either side of her face. “Go!”
And she was gone in a flash, running right through the screen door, leaving it shredded in her wake.
I gripped the scissors like a weapon and held Day to my chest as the sounds of a battle echoed through the house. I couldn’t tell who was who, who was crying out, and who was being thrown against a wall, or the floor, or the window that suddenly shattered.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to Day, finding it impossible to swallow.
I jumped and cried out, my scream mingling with Day’s cry of terror as two gunshots rang out through the darkness.
“Go!” I cried, shoving Day toward the back door. “Go now!”
“Where?” Day cried, his eyes round and shining in the moonlight coming through the kitchen window. “I don’t want to leave you Ma—”
I shoved him again, almost knocking him over.
“Mama!”
“Run!” I cried.
He screwed his face up, tears spilling down his cheeks as he turned from me and crawled through the hole in the screen and disappeared into the night.
I gripped the scissors, shaking as I rose to my feet. It was silent in the house, nothing but a soft shuffling sound coming down the hallway. I looked up at the hutch near the front door as I walked through the living room.
Grant had a gun there.
I took three large, silent steps and rose onto my tiptoes and curled my hand around the cool metal, the weight of it a surprise.
I wasn’t sure who had been shot, whether it was Kirk, or Henry.
But I was going to find out.
And if Kirk was alive… he wouldn’t be for long.
My head ached severely as I crept toward the den. I pulled back the hammer on the handgun, swallowing thickly as I blinked to clear the tears from my eyes.
Someone moved in the dark as I reached the archway and I pointed the gun at them.
“It’s me, Moira.” Henry sighed, panting as he lowered himself to the ground.
I didn’t lower the gun, not yet, not until my eyes adjusted to the dark and I saw Kirk’s shadowed body lying limp on the floor in the corner of the room.
I felt along the wall for the light switch and turned it on, blinking to adjust to the sudden brightness.
“Oh, Henry,” I said, lowering the gun as I ran toward him. He was bleeding, but I couldn’t tell from where.
