In a Handful of Dust

“It’s just my shoulder, I think,” she answered, trying to control the panic in her voice.

“Can you crawl?”

The acrid smoke from the smothered fire filled her nostrils and Lucy gasped for air. “Yeah, I think so,” she said, ignoring the flare of pain that shot through her shoulder as she followed the sounds of Lynn’s movement toward a window.

A clammy hand clasped around her ankle. “What’s happening?” Joss asked, her voice pitched high with fear.

Another bullet sliced through the plaster wall, mixing a cloud of dust with the smoke that hung low in the heavy air. Lynn growled at Joss to whisper, and the three of them hovered close to a window, heads below the sill. Lucy barely resisted the urge to shake Joss’ hand off her leg, and gritted her teeth against the pain spreading through her arm, like hot needles surging under the surface of her skin.

Lynn rose an inch so she could see through the hole where the window had been, but immediately dropped. “It’s too dark to see,” she whispered. “And too many openings here for me to cover them all.”

Lucy felt cold metal in her hand; the butt of the pistol. “Take this,” Lynn said, “and you and Joss find the stairs. Go on up if you think they’ll hold you, but get out of this room.”

“What about you? Where you going?” Lucy asked, a panic darker than the room sprouting in her belly. “Don’t leave me here!”

“I’m going outside,” Lynn said, voice pitched low. “I can’t see them, but I might be able to hear them out there without the rain pounding on the roof. If we at least show ’em we’ve got guns, they might back off.”

“And if they don’t?” Joss asked.

“If they don’t, Lucy isn’t a bad shot.”

Lucy felt Joss’ grip tighten on her leg. “Don’t you dare get hurt,” Lucy said to Lynn, her voice a growl over the drumming of the rain. “I’ll be really pissed at you if you die.”

“I’ll be fine, and you’ve been pissed at me before. Now go on.”

Lynn was gone when the next flash lit the room, and Lucy spotted the rickety shadow of the staircase. She began crawling toward it without a word, well aware Joss didn’t need encouragement to stay close. The needles in her arm surged with movement, and she bit down to keep from crying out. She bumped into the first step and clamped her teeth as the pain shot through her shoulder, drawing blood from her bottom lip.

She crawled up six steps before the wood beneath gave away. Joss trembled a step below her, tangling herself in Lucy’s legs in an effort to find cover. Lucy flicked the safety on the pistol and lay very still. The rain let up, the relentless pounding on the slate roof falling back to a low thrum. A rifle crack rang out, and an unmistakable male yelp of pain. Lucy smiled in the darkness.

“How’d she do that?” Joss asked. “How’d she know where to shoot in the dark?”

“Lynn’s rifle is another arm to her. Shooting someone in the pitch black is no different to her than you finding your own face in the night.”

Joss was silent after that, as was Lynn’s gun. The rain spattered on the roof, its inconsistent rhythm fading into a sprinkle.

“I’m here.” Lynn’s voice cut through the darkness, and relief radiated through Lucy at the sound.

“We’re on the stairs,” she called. “You scare them off?”

“Seems that way. Come on out of there. We’re not staying a second longer.”

Joss and Lucy slipped down the staircase, groping in the dark for their belongings. Lucy grabbed the straps of Lynn’s backpack and her own. She could hear Joss moving through the blackness to her right, where she and Lynn had been sleeping.

“I’ve got your two blankets,” Joss whispered. “Can you grab mine?”

Lucy felt around for a few moments before realizing Lynn had used it to smother the fire. That bit of explanation could wait for later. When Lucy tried to lift her pack, the weight sent a fresh bolt of pain through her shoulder, and she cried out.

Lynn was beside her quickly, taking both Lucy’s pack and her own without comment. They left the house through the back door. Even though it wasn’t raining anymore, they were soaked within seconds from the drops clinging to stalks of grass. Lucy followed Lynn, her good arm laced through one of the packs, while Joss held on to Lucy’s shirt. The night was utterly dark, and Lynn didn’t move them far before stopping.

“Should be okay here,” she said. “There’s a little cover, and they won’t be able to track us in this pitch.”

Lynn grabbed Lucy’s hand and touched it to a tree. Lucy leaned against it for support, sliding down to the ground in exhaustion. She heard Joss doing the same beside her, and the three rested against the trunk for a few moments in silence.

“Sorry about your blanket,” Lynn finally said.

Beside her, Lucy felt Joss shrug. “It’s okay.”

“We’ll get you a new one once we’re back on the road.”

“Sounds good.”

“How’s your shoulder?” Lucy felt Lynn’s hands wandering up her arm, but she shrugged her off.

“It hurts,” she said. “But there’s nothing you can do without any light, and I’m not dying.”