Chapter 18
When they started toward the bathroom to let Gena wash up, the flames raged hot and bright inside Iris’s mind.
“We can’t do this right now,” she said, shaking her head. “We may be running out of time.”
Iris’s mother looked at the axe over Iris’s shoulder, the rifle over Gena’s.
“Wait here just one minute. We’re gonna need more than this.”
She set out at a fast pace back toward the tree trimming supplies, detouring wide around Dale’s messy remains.
“You’re bleeding,” Gena said. She touched Iris’s undamaged cheek, turning her face to the side.
“That might help us. If everyone out there sees what went on, they’ll be willing to fight.”
Gena and Iris walked forward to help with the load of weapons Carol Rutherford carried. Three more axes, several loops of loose chainsaw blad
