“Understood.”
“But give weight to protecting the west side, since that’s where we are. Better to defend home turf.”
Connor again nodded and hopped on his bike. I did the same with mine, rolling out toward Main Street and the heart of Santa Maria, arguably the most dangerous part of town for our patrols, if for no other reason than that I was closest to the hornets’ nest that was the Bandits.
The sad part was, there were people living on the east side of town. It wasn’tonlyBandits. But unfortunately, for those very people, the only hope they had was that the Bandits would turn their attention to something besides them.
God help this fucking town. God help us all.
Because whatever the fuck is going to happen in these coming days, it’ll be the bloodiest thing yet.
And may it be the final thing between us.
Rachel
Three Days Later
In the time since I last saw Mason, I had done exactly what he had told me to do.
I’d stayed inside, never once venturing any further outside than a step out my front door. It was like I was in the middle of a war zone, a phrase that was perhaps not as metaphorical as I would have liked. By staying inside, I figured I was keeping myself safe.
I was doing what I had gotten good at from the previous ten years. I was keeping to myself.
I found myself constantly thinking about Mason, hoping that he was safe. I hadn’t heard from him since I saw him, but I understood these were not normal times.
Actually, I wasn’t just “constantly thinking about Mason.” I was going a little stir-crazy at not being able to see him. It was like I knew where he was. I knew how I could find him.
But venturing out and meeting him face to face carried so much risk that it wasn’t worth it. I just found myself hoping this would all end soon enough. Soon enough, the Bandits would be gone. Soon enough, Mason and I could hang out in person.
Soon enough, this pall that had settled over Santa Maria, making normal socialization and meeting in person dangerous, would vanish.
But beyond that, beyond the danger in just being out in public, there was another problem, one that would mandate me going outside.
I was running low on food.
It really wasn’t ideal. I was trying not to have to reach out to anyone, but at some point, one egg was only going to carry me so far. Remembering his advice, I called him.
Nothing.
An hour later, I called again. Nothing.
Hopeful that someone else could help, I called Brock and Connor. Also no luck. I texted all three, hoping thatsomeonewould at least say, “I’ll call you back later.”
Mason wasn’t responding to his texts.
Brock wasn’t responding to his texts.
Even Connor wasn’t responding to his texts.
That left me with little choice but to accept a terrifying reality. I could either go without food until they got back to me, or I could risk it. And unfortunately, right after the worst day of my life, I’d fallen into the habit of just not eating.
It wasn’t a huge problem anymore, as I ate normal portions at normal times, but I knew that staying inside without food carried its own risks. I could not relapse into bad habits. I had to risk it.
First, I grabbed a hoodie that I could pull over my face to cover me. Someone with a straight-on angle would still be able to identify me, but hopefully, it would give me some protection from sideways glances and views from the rear. Second, I grabbed my sunglasses—it was still daylight, and maybe if I wore them in the store, I’d give the idea that I didn’t want to be bothered.
There was always the risk that this much disguise and cover-up would make it obvious it was me, but I did not peg the Bandits for being that smart.
I grabbed my keys, looked outside my window first, saw it was all clear, and made a beeline for my car. I had to imagine the other residents here had the same idea—going outside when the only police officer in town had been shot by gangsters was probably a very poor choice.
