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“Why did you set the fires?” Maisey demanded.
Rusty gave her a sly smile. “A little distraction.”
“It’s a distraction for us too when that wildfire heads for our camp,” she barked at him.
He did a double take toward the flames. “No, it’s supposed to go burn them out.”
“Did you check the wind direction?” she snapped. It was a rhetorical question because Rusty was too bullheaded to think of repercussions for his actions. She didn’t like him, but survival required strange bedfellows. And that thought gave her the willies because he would never be welcome in her bed.
“I...um...” Rusty scratched his head in confusion like a cartoon character.
“Go find Raven, and see if we can get around this because we can’t stay here.” She turned her back on him hoping that he would obey an order for once. If they didn’t get through those fighters to the dairy, they probably wouldn’t have enough supplies to feed everyone tomorrow.
Gunfire caught her off guard. She dropped to the ground, squinting through the drifting smoke. They were so low on ammunition that she’d only handed out a few bullets to the sharpshooters. She had hoped that with the size of her band, just showing up might win the day. Apparently, the other side was better armed.
Gracie, one of her runners, wove through the chaos of the battle. “They’re shooting at us!” she squealed. “And JoJo got shot. He’s bleeding bad.”
Maisey spun, scanning the terrain for their healer. “Where’s Bug?” Smoke blew in from the fire making her eyes tear, and her throat go raw. She was going to wring Rusty’s stupid scrawny neck.
“He’s tryin’ to fix the bus,” Gracie said.
Unfortunately, Bug was equally good at fixing engines or people, and sometimes she needed him to do both at once. Feeling like she needed to clone herself on the spot, Maisey tried to take charge of the rout. With the fire between them and the dairy, they had to move immediately which meant they needed Bug to get the bus working. This wasn’t going to plan, despite Rusty’s assurances. She’d had Raven scout it, and the dairy had looked undermanned yesterday. They hadn’t known that there might be back up waiting. “Tell people we’re pulling back.”
Her announcement wasn’t necessary. The approaching fire scattered her people. “I’m going to kill him,” Maisey growled through gritted teeth. She’d fought Rusty over this action, but he had gotten the men fired up. They were low on food and everyone was feeling scared. He’d convinced them that the dairy was a plum waiting to be picked, and nothing she could say would make them see the reality of it. She wasn’t the leader of the band as much as the broom that swept them along. Rusty was turning into a stiff wind that would twirl her people out in every which direction.
More gunfire and the screams of pain and fear ricocheted across the woods. She dashed through the smoke trying to take a head count. “Run!” she ordered them, her voice ragged already. The bus wouldn’t be fixed in time. The wind picked up, and the fire was headed right for their last reliable vehicle. “Bug!” She arrived at the bus out of breath to pull him away from under the hood.
He coughed, gaped at the fire and joined her in a headlong bolt to safety.
“Try to gather everyone down by the stream where we camped last night,” she said.
Bug gave her a nod before speeding off through the woods.
Maisey grabbed a few others to give them directions. Her band was scattered through the trees. Between that and the smoke, it was difficult to see if she was missing anyone.
Gracie caught up with her, panting and red-faced. Maisey took her arm to pull her along. “Are they following?”
“The fire made ‘em stop.”
“Thank goodness for small mercies,” she mumbled. “Go back to where we camped last night.” She gave Gracie a shove before turning back to check for stragglers or wounded. As far as their first foray, this was a disaster.