“Sera!” I hissed, but she didn’t hear me. She was below seat-level again, doing something I couldn’t see.

I scanned the back of the main house as I approached the car, then squatted next to the rear tire just as the back door of the house opened and two more guards came out. I pulled open the rear door of her car, and Sera’s squeal of surprise was swallowed by the shouts of the guards as they discovered their coworker’s body.

“It’s me!” I hissed, and Sera exhaled. “We gotta go!”

“Okay, just let me...” she whispered, bending again to gather her things.

“Now!” I snapped, and she flinched. And that’s when I realized what was taking her so long. She was gathering the photos that had fallen across the backseat and floorboard. Her mother’s album was old and worn out. It had practically fallen apart in her hands.

They must have looked through it all the time. That thought nearly broke my heart.

But then there was more shouting. More footsteps. I peeked through the rear windshield to see that three guards had become five, and they were fanning out across the porch, handguns and rifles drawn, prepared to search the property. They wouldn’t have to go far to find us.

“Sorry, Sera, but we have to go.” I sank out of sight again. She peeked over the backseat, then dropped onto her heels in the floorboard, air wheezing in and out of her lungs.

“Shit!” she whispered. “Do you have another gun?”

“Can you shoot?”

She shook her head, but her hands were steady as she gathered the photos. “But I’m a fast learner.”

“Good. I’ll teach you—if we get out of here.” I scooped the last of the loose photos into my left hand and dumped them into the computer bag she held open, then took it from her and slung the strap over my shoulder. I helped her out of the car—awkward, with us both squatting—then carefully, silently closed the door.

Then I peeked around the end of the car.

There were too many of them. They were all armed. Even if they were all horrible shots—and they wouldn’t be—they were close enough that it would take more effort for them to avoid hitting us than to hit us.

“Change of plans. Give me your keys.”

“What?” Her eyes were huge again. But her voice was steady. “We can’t drive out of here!”

“We can’t walk out, either, unless you’ve decided your body didn’t come with enough holes in it.” And that wasn’t possible, because her body was perfect. My job was to keep it that way.

She peeked through the rear window again, then dropped into a squat with her back against the car, eyes wide. “What’s the plan?”

“Give me your keys. Crawl into the backseat and stay down on the floorboard. I’ll drive us into the dark, then we get out and shadow-walk into the closet.”

She nodded. “Sounds easy enough.”

“Except for the part where you lose your car to a storm of bullet holes.”

“Can bullets penetrate a car?”

“This car? Yeah. So stay down. Ready?”

“No.”

“Too bad.” I plucked the keys from her hand and pulled open the back door. Three of the guards’ heads swiveled in our direction, but they weren’t at the right angle to see the open door.

Sera climbed onto the rear floorboard, then pulled the door mostly closed. I opened the front passenger door and crawled across the bucket seats, banging my knee on the center console. The interior light came on. And that’s when the bullets began to fly.

Rifles are loud. So is the collision of bullet and car.

Bent almost in half, I stepped on the brake pedal and shoved Sera’s key into the ignition. I turned the key, and when her engine growled to life, I shifted into Drive and stomped on the gas without even peeking through the windshield. It was a straight shot into the yard. The blissfully dark yard.

But I forgot about the curb. Tower’s stupid backyard parking lot had a stupid fucking curb all the way around it.

The front tires slammed into the raised concrete then rolled over it. My chest hit the steering wheel and Sera hit the back of my seat.

She screamed as more bullets ripped through the trunk. Several shattered the rear windshield and lodged in the headrest of the driver’s seat, and I hoped she’d stayed down and the bullets had all gone up.

I stomped the gas pedal again, and as soon as night washed over the windshield, I swerved sharply to the right and slammed the gearshift into Park. “Out!” I shouted as bullets ripped through the passenger side of the car. I dove out the driver’s door and rolled onto the grass as Sera’s door opened.

She crawled out onto the grass, shaking, and I pulled her up by one arm, pinning her computer bag between us when the strap fell off my shoulder. More bullets flew, but most of the guards were shooting handguns. Bigger bullets, but less power.

“Give me your hand!” I said, pulling her farther into the dark.

“What?”

“I have to be touching your skin.” But all I could find was her sleeve.

She fumbled in the dark, but couldn’t catch my hand, so I shoved the computer bag at her and picked her up as though giving her a bear hug, one hand sliding beneath the back of her shirt.

Two steps later, the air changed. Silence descended with the weight of my own conscience, and we collided with the closed closet door. Sera fumbled with the knob and the door flew open before I was ready. We fell to a heap on the hall floor. When I looked up, I found three different guns aimed at our heads.