Another gunshot was followed by a slow hiss. The vehicle leaned to the left as the front tire lost its air. And then another shot, blowing the other tire, which tilted the truck forward as it rested on the flats.

Harper shoved the key into the front pocket of her jeans. She slid out of the cab, but slipped in the loose mud. Relentless torrents of rain pummeled her raw body and soul as she lay on the ground, confusion warring with anger at what was happening.

She flinched when a metallic bang hit the bed of the truck. A grenade bounced to a clanking halt against the tire. Another one followed, landing near the first.

Harper came out of her daze and started to run-away from the guns, away from the impending blast.

The explosion tossed her body through the driving rain and dropped her in the brush like a cannonball. Her bones rattled on impact. Pain. There was so much pain. Harper drifted on the fringe of consciousness while she fought the blackness trying to take hold of her. She dared to breathe in the damp air and opened her eyes to the greens of rich moss and dripping ferns. Facedown in the brush, she tasted moist earth on her lips and blood in her mouth. She ran her tongue along her lower lip, confirming the source of the copper tang.

Sickening smoke began to fill her nostrils, drowning out the lush smell of the woods. Awareness flooded her mind. Fire. The truck. Bobby.

Harper pushed herself up, ignoring the sharp agony prickling through every nerve. She stood, trying to steady herself against the stinging rain and destruction.

Her brother’s beloved truck was nothing more than a fiery metallic skeleton. Burning chunks of debris littered the surrounding area. The hammering rain kept the flames from igniting the foliage. A small harbor of light in the sea of gloom.

Sheer anguish seized her, grasping her heart and squeezing relentlessly with a crushing fist.

Harper fell to her knees, hands on her head.