Once he had called all of his followers to arms, he knew he had to lie low. Malkin skirted the woodpile and ducked down into the fluffy snow.
“How are you holding up my dear?” Malkin took Sweets’ confused face into his hands.
Shots rang out. Someone was holding their guts in, trying to make it to the mess hall.
“Somebody’s makin’ popcorn,” she cried.
Malkin’s frenzied eyes took in the camp’s devastation. Their attackers had killed almost everyone, but not before taking some stragglers with them first. He scanned the bodies for signs of Reggie, but couldn’t see his telltale jacket through the haze of the snow.
Petra, the woman who ran the canteen, huddled behind the latrine, clutching a hunting rifle that looked too big in her hands. She looked over to where Malkin was crouched. The wo
