"Thank you," Rhea whispered, clutching Johnny so tightly he whimpered. "Thank you, thank you." She cried the words into her son's hair, her whole body shaking. "We need to go. Iyisha. Please."
But Iyisha couldn't move yet.
She stared at the corpse on the floor. The woman's eyes were still open. Her arm lay twisted unnaturally against the bedframe. Blood spread across the boards, dark and wet. Iyisha's gun hung limp at her side.
"Iyisha," Rhea pleaded again, voice thin with terror. "Please. We have to go."
Iyisha forced herself to swallow. Her throat felt raw. Numb. Finally she nodded.
They ran.
Down the hall, down the stairs, across the snow-covered yard. Every sound seemed too loud. Every shadow too close. Iyisha didn't trust her legs, but they carried her anyway. She kept looking over her shoulder, half expecting someone to come charging after them.
They reached the southern section of the compound when a soft voice hissed their names.
"Iyisha. Rhea."
They turned.
