Prologue

The wife and mother swept the floor in easy draws, the sound of the straw against the tile punctuated by the noise of her children playing.

“Get the children away from the window,” her husband commanded. The man jerked his hand from right to left and back again.

“What?”

His eyes flared and she could see the veins in his neck bulge as he stretched it forward. “Get the children away from the window. Now!”

“Children, come here.” She stopped her sweeping and motioned them to her.

The little boy pulled his sister’s toe in a silly game they played, and they both broke into voluble giggles.

“Children,” he screamed, “go to your mother!”

Both children started and eyed their father.

“What’s wrong?” She watched her husband move along the wall in a stealthy manner. “What’s wrong?”

“Shh, listen.” The man swallowed as he braced his rigid fingers against the door and put his ear close. “Can’t you hear them? Listen. They’re coming near.”

The little girl left her brother drawing finger circles on the floor and stepped close to her father. “Who’s near, Daddy?”

He grabbed the little girl’s jaw with his hand and squeezed it. She grimaced and tried to pull away, but he clung on all the tighter, and then laid his face nearly on hers. “Quiet,” he spoke in a hiss.

His wife drew a quick breath. “Oh no, God, please.” Her prayer was short. The broom clattered as she dropped it to the floor and hurried to her daughter, putting her arms round her. “Yes, yes, we’ll be silent,” she assured her husband.

The man released his grip. “Stay low and stay alert. Find cover. We can’t let them know we’re here.” He spun round and went toward the bedroom.

The mother bent down and pulled her daughter to her. The child leaned into her body and whimpered.

“Quiet, my love, you must be quiet.” The mother stroked her little one’s soft hair. “You must be a brave little girl.”

She felt her hands begin to tremble as she came to her feet. Gripping her daughter’s hand, with her other arm she scooped up her son, who sat quiet with wonder on the floor. Both children in hand, she darted her eyes cross the room. What now?

Her husband reentered the space. She gasped.

He gripped a gun braced against his side. He said nothing but moved determinedly along to the window. She could see the alarm in his eyes, his face skewed with fear, as if destructive possibilities screamed out a warning.

She felt tears spring to her eyes.

“What’s Daddy doing?” her son asked in a tiny voice.

“You must be Daddy’s brave little boy,” she whispered and watched a tear trickle down her daughter’s cheek, red from her father’s clench.

The woman could feel the icy fingers of panic grip her heart. Holding her children’s hands, she ran from the room into the kitchen where she grabbed a table knife.

She spied the back corner behind the wooden table. “Come along, children,” she encouraged. She crouched low, urging her precious little ones with her as they crawled along the floor under the table to the corner.

She could hear her husband bark unrecognizable slurs to those who threatened beyond.

“Are we playing army?” her little girl asked.

“Yes, yes, we’re playing army. We must obey orders and stay quiet.”

Her daughter’s eyes were filled with bewilderment, and a single sob slipped from her tiny lips.

The woman maneuvered herself round and placed her back against the wall, her legs pressed against her chest where she hid the knife. She clutched her children, pulling them against the sides of her body. “We’re going to stay right against the wall and close to each other.” She could feel her heart pounding. “Remember Daddy loves you very much,” she murmured as they huddled together in the dark corner. She tried to hum a calming lullaby, though her voice quivered. A single tear escaped and slowly slid down her hot cheek. “He loves us very much.”