But had they? Had someone else? Is that what this was?
She’d be glad to get back home where she could discuss and debate her father and uncles on politics and what might really be happening. Her stepmom, Olivia, wouldn’t discuss the president or anything political. She lived in a world of unicorns and rainbows. But her Aunt Gabby was always good for bouncing things off of, or having a calm and intelligent debate with.
Her breath was wasted on Becky and the guys down the hall. They were blithering idiots.
She was better on her own.
But without someone who knew how to read a compass, she realized she needed to take the quickest route, one that she knew well frontward and backward.
The interstate.
Home was a little more than an hour away by car, at normal speed.
Graysie grabbed her gun and tucked it into the back of her pants, stowed the ammo in her backpack, waved goodbye to a still-sleeping Becky, and ran down the two flights of stairs to the security guard’s desk.
“I’m leaving.”
The guard looked up, blinking rapidly at Graysie.
She’d interrupted his nap.
He cleared his throat and stood. “The administration said—”
“—I don’t give a rat’s ass what the administration said. I’m nineteen years old. If I don’t need their permission to have a baby, buy a pack of smokes, join the army, or be shipped over to be shot by our enemies overseas, I sure as hell don’t need their permission to go home. To my home, where I’m safe with my father.”
Graysie flipped her long red hair behind her shoulder and stood tall and defiant—or as tall as her five feet five allowed—her lips pursed and her green eyes glaring at the nervous man.
“See here, young lady. It’ll be dark soon. You need to—”
Graysie held up one finger. “No. You need to worry about what’s going on right here under your nose. Upstairs, there’s shit overflowing. There’s parties going on in nearly all the suites. Underage drinking. Illegal drugs. Pills. You need to get the administration to look into that. And what about water? They’ve got three days to find water for all these kids before they reach a stage of dehydration that will need medical attention. If they’re forcing us to stay here and you all aren’t taking care of us, what’s going to happen when our parents do arrive and their kids are sick… or worse? That’s what you and the administration need to be worrying about.”
She hiked her pack onto her shoulders and jangled her keys in the air. “I have transportation. I have a full tank of gas. And, I have protection.” She turned and lifted up her shirt.
The guard gasped and backed up. He was stunned silent.
“I’m walking out of here and you can either radio someone to open the gate on the car park, or I’ll drive right through it. Your choice, Sir.”
She gave him a firm nod and walked out.
20
Gabby was already making her way toward her sisters when she heard Olivia scream. They’d been gone too long. She broke into a run and slid to a stop at the edge of the clearing with her pistol ready.
She froze, barely believing her eyes.
On the outside of the small clearing stood three Harley Davidson motorcycles; one holding a pig. On the inside, her sisters were fighting—with bikers, no less.
Olivia was a flurry of knees, feet and elbows, trying to dislodge a mammoth of a man who held her from behind against his chest with heavily tattooed arms. He laughed at her pitiful struggling against his strength. She screamed, “Let me go!”
Five feet away Emma was a blur, turning in a half-circle, whipping a metal branding iron through the air back and forth between two very scary looking guys, one on each side of her. The two-foot long tool whistled as it arced, barely missing taking their nose off each time. As they ducked and dodged and laughed at her, grabbing at her clothes, she spit at them in fury.
A small Asian woman, mid-twenties, squatted in the middle of the mayhem on her knees, frantically trying to button her shirt with only one hand while holding her shirt shut with her other arm that ended at her wrist. She snatched up a small tattered purse from the ground, and held it close to her chest, shaking in fear.
And the pig wore a fancy skirt.
Was this even real?
She shook off her confusion and shot into the air.
It was deafening. Everyone froze.
Except the pig. The pig squealed and snorted, frantically twisting to try to free itself free from the strap that held it to the bike.
Everyone scattered.
Two of the men froze with their hands up and mouths open. Olivia and Emma broke free and rushed to stand behind Gabby. The man who’d held Olivia reached out for the Asian woman and shoved her behind him.
“What the hell is going on here?” Gabby screamed, once she had their attention.
Trunk, as his vest announced, wore a look of amused astonishment. “Damn. I thought you girls were joshing me. You really did have someone out there with a gun.” He stared at Gabby, then back at Olivia. Then back to Gabby again.
He gave a long, slow smile.
“Hey boys, look what we have here…” He turned to them and winked. “Twins.”
His crew hooted and hollered and pumped their fists into the air. “Worth more than a one-handed Asian on the list, Boss,” one of them said. “We could win the hunt.”
“Damn straight. As long as they’re pretty, and there’s no denying that,” he said with a slow drawl, smiling ear to ear. He straightened up to stand taller and ran his hands down his vest as though to impress them, and took one step forward.
Gabby’s hands trembled as she pointed the pistol directly at him. “Stop.”
Trunk’s smile slowly melted away.
Emma grabbed onto Olivia, gripping her shaking arm, and Olivia leaned in to Gabby. “Gabby, I wasn’t serious… you can’t just shoot him,” she hissed in a loud whisper.
Trunk’s charming smile was back. “Yeah, don’t shoot me. Shit ain’t that bad yet. There’d be lots of trouble for you over that.” He spread his hands out, palms up. “Look, how ‘bout we negotiate? You ladies ride with us, and she can go, if she wants.” He jerked his thumb behind him, toward the young woman. “When we get back to the club, we’ll tally up our points for the hunt. We’ll feed you, pack you up with water, and then you can leave. I think we’re going the opposite way you were heading—assuming you’re going south if you’re on this side of the interstate—but it’s only an hour away. I’ll even get these two to drive you home on their bikes.” He jerked his head toward his crew who smiled suggestively at the girls.
Obviously, the dipshit couldn’t do math; there were three of them. How would two get them home? Gabby spread her elbows, pushing her sisters back and took a firm stance, raising the gun higher. “I don’t give a shit about your hunt. We’re not going anywhere with you. Neither is she. Get her, Olivia.”
Olivia hurried around Trunk to the young woman, who hung her head in shame. She and Olivia stepped back, farther away from Trunk, and circled back to stand behind Gabby and Emma.