From inside the basement, someone screamed.
It sounded like Pix.
Elle rolled to her side, her ribcage throbbing from the impact of the kick. The silent fight continued as the man grabbed her by the hair and yanked her forward. Pieces of hair tore out of Elle’s scalp. She lifted her knife and shoved it forward, sinking into flesh. There was a strangled scream as the hands released her hair. She fell, pulling the knife toward her, feeling it glide through bone and cartilage.
Elle backed away, feeling her way toward the struggle in the back of the basement. The flashlight had been flicked on again, and it was lying sideways on the floor. Elle glimpsed a shadow of Jay struggling against a bigger man. It was impossible to make out faces, but she guessed the man was middle age. Georgia ran forward and pushed off the wall, snapping her boot into the man’s shoulder. He bent over with the hit and Jay shoved his fist into his face.
There were three more people in the back of the storeroom, and the basement door had been opened. More were coming inside.
The cache had been completely infiltrated.
Elle was furious.
“We have to go!” she told Jay. “Now!”
They were sorely outnumbered.
“Alright, kiddies!” someone yelled. It was a male voice, deep and raspy. “Time to stop with the playground antics. One of my men is dead, and that’s not something I’m willing to overlook.” A pause. “Why don’t you just walk to the front of the room and surrender? We won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Sure, they won’t hurt us, Elle thought. They’ll only kill us.
She knelt and grabbed the flashlight, flicking the switch off again. The only light in the basement was the stream of sunlight coming in through the entrance. Three people were standing on the steps.
“Come out, come out wherever you are,” the man drawled.
Elle felt Georgia’s hand in the darkness. She leaned close to her head and whispered, “We have to draw them into the basement, then we’ll dash for the door.”
Georgia relayed the message to the others.
“I know you’re in here,” the man said. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be. We won’t hurt you. We’ll give you a home. A place with food and water. How does that sound?”
Elle wanted to show him how that sounded, but she knew better.
She rounded the back end of the basement, tiptoeing around pallets. The kids followed suit. Elle silently instructed them to separate across the storeroom. She stayed where she was, almost directly in front of the basement steps.
The man kept talking, trying to draw the kids out of the basement, to the front of the room. Elle knew what he was doing; he was lulling them into a sense of false security, weakening their defenses. She slowly unzipped her backpack and reached inside, feeling for the right object…yes, there it was.
“If you come out now, we’ll give you a nice home at the Pits,” the man said.
At this, Elle froze. A chill ran up her spine.
“You’ll be taken care of.”
You lying dog, Elle thought. The Klan will never take me again.
Elle dug for the lighter in the bottom of her pack. She found it. Her hands were shaky; she willed them to cooperate. She flicked her thumb along the roller and the flame ignited. She was holding a box in the other hand — a box with a fuse.
Elle threw the package toward the steps, dropped the lighter back into her pack, and covered her head. The box exploded, sending sprays of fiery color into the basement. The men on the steps dove for cover, and one of them was knocked off his feet. The colored balls of fire kept popping, rattling the basement, creating chaos.
Firecrackers. One of Elle’s favorite post-apocalyptic weapons.
Elle sprinted toward the exit, climbing the stairs with lightning speed. She charged into the alley, the daylight burning her eyes. She glanced behind her. Jay was next, and then Georgia. Elle fixed her gaze straight ahead and kept running. They needed to hide.
The screams of the men in the basement didn’t fade until they were two blocks away. Elle slowed her pace a bit, but she didn’t stop until they were safely on the other side of the city, near Santa Monica Boulevard again.
She placed her hands on her knees, breathing hard. She was hidden behind an overflowing garbage can in the alley near an abandoned Mexican restaurant. Jay and Georgia came to a halt beside her. Elle reached up and touched her shirt. She was dripping in blood — not hers, but the man who she had stabbed inside the basement.
“Flash, where’s Pix?” Georgia gasped.
Georgia’s hair was mussed and her shirt was torn. Jay’s knuckles were bloody; Elle could see a piece of white bone protruding through the skin.
Flash leaned against the alley wall, struggling for breath. His glasses were sideways. “She was… right behind… me,” he panted.
Elle stood up. Pix was nowhere in sight.
“Did she make it out of the basement?” Elle asked.
“Yeah, I saw her come out,” Jay replied. “I didn’t check afterward, though. I was… running…” He seemed embarrassed. “I thought she was with Flash.”
As Flash regained his breath, it seemed to dawn on him that his sister was missing. “Pix?” he called.
“Shhhh,” Georgia hissed. “Dummy! Do you want the whole posse to come down on us again?”
Elle frowned.
They had no idea what had just happened.
Elle waited. Her heart rate slowed. Her fight or flight instinct vanished, and she crouched low, watching the street. They all watched, hoping Pix had just fallen behind and that she would catch up.
Elle counted the minutes. One, two, three… five… seven.
Too long.
“She’s not coming,” Elle stated. “They got her.”
“Who got her?” Jay demanded. “What was that, anyway? A basement full of food and thugs? We almost died down there, Elle!”
“Welcome to the city,” Elle replied.
“We can’t just leave her behind!” Flash said, eyes wide. “She’s my sister!”
“We can and we will,” Elle replied. “Do you know who that was in the storeroom? The Klan. We can’t mess with the Klan.”
“But they’ve got Pix!”
And she was as good as dead, if Elle was right.
Chapter Six
They were hiding out in a tiny, single-level apartment living room. The curtains were drawn and they spoke in whispers. They had backtracked as far as they dared, searching for Pix. There was no sign.
“Is she… dead?” Flash breathed.
They were sitting on the cold, damp floor.
“I heard that big guy in the basement say something about ‘The Pits,’” Georgia said. “He said he wanted to take us there. What is that?”
“Is that where they took Pix?” Flash asked, a spark of hope on his face.
“If it is,” Elle replied, “she’s dead.”
Jay demanded, “ Why? Have you heard of the Pits?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of them.”
“What are they?”
Elle grimaced. “It’s a Klan game,” she said. “They throw prisoners into big pits in the ground and make them fight. To the death. Klan members bet against each other — not with money, but with gold, guns or supplies. It’s bad. Very bad.”
“They’re taking my sister there?” Flash whispered. He was trembling. Jay and Georgia looked equally distressed. Elle just stared at them, thinking.
“They round up anyone they can find,” Elle answered. “Men, women and children. If you get taken to the pits, you’ve been given a death sentence. Nobody survives for very long.”