One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 4, page 7

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Fírí Parızada breathed through her nose so she wouldn’t suck dirt into her mouth. Did the person see her laying on the ground behind her dirty duffel bag?

She focused on listening for footsteps or any other inadvertent sounds. Dry leaves crackled in the breeze. The Enforcer cruiser continued to wail its siren. Why didn’t Zhíno shut that plagued thing up? But no other sounds.

A horse whickered.

A dog barked in reply.

A sheep bleated.

What the plague? There was no perverted gunman back here. It was just a barnyard. Animals made those earlier sounds, too.

Maybe she could hide in whatever passed for a barn at this desert farmhouse.

Fírí stood and dusted off the front of her sweatshirt and denim pants. She lifted her shoe bag and started striding toward the animals. Her duffel was getting heavy, but she wasn’t about to leave it behind. It was more valuable than anyone else knew--even Zhíno. He had just though she was obsessed with her shoes, and Fírí went ahead and let him.

A sheep ghosted in the night ahead of her. And a couple goats. And was that a pig there?

The duffel bag clanked into something and before Fírí could stop, she walked straight into a chainlink fence. She grabbed it with her free hand to stop its clattering. In front of her, the night scattered away, animals visible and dark scurrying from the noise. Wings beat the air--a chicken, perhaps. The sheep bleated again. A pig grunted. A cow mooed.

Were the animals all together in one big pen? Didn’t these people separate them like most farmers? Fírí frowned. Farmers usually separated their animals, right?

It didn’t matter. She had to find somewhere to hide.

She heaved her shoe bag over the fence, nearly losing her balance in the process. The duffel landed with a squishy thud. Mud, or at least really chewed-up dirt.

As quietly as she could, which wasn’t very, Fírí stuck her feet into the chainlink gaps and scaled the fence. It was only two meters tall, but perched on top, Fírí felt she sat atop a flagpole. She quickly jumped down into the animal yard, her feet sinking to her ankles.

The animals surged back and forth, indistinct in the darkness, but always several meters away from Fírí.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I don’t want to eat you. I’m just hiding here for a while. I’ll be your friend.” She peered into the darkness. “Where’s the barn?”

The animals quieted slightly, mostly slowing down. A small, spotted dog zipped around the yard, not barking but keeping the other animals riled.

“Calm down, boy,” Fírí whispered as loud as she could. “Calm down!”

The distinct sound of a door unlatching and swinging open on oil-needing hinges hit Fírí like a gunshot. She froze, caught her breath. A shiver ran down her back; her knees buckled. She landed kneeling in the soft soil. She was found. And now that she was inside this fence, she was trapped. Koro-brained fool. You plagued this one. They’re going to rape you for sure.

An elderly woman’s voice called out, “Hello? Do you need any help, dear?”

Help? Who was this? Did she have anything to do with the two sick Zhéporé-spawns in the driveway?

“Dear, please come inside. You’re frightening the animals.”

Maybe this woman didn’t know anything about the guys out front. They must’ve both been in the truck. So therefore this old lady truly wanted to help her, or at least get her out of her animal yard.

Maybe Fírí could hide inside the house. But would the old lady be able to hide her from the crazy men when they waved their rifles in her face? Maybe Fírí should just get out of there, run off into the desert again.

Fírí didn’t budge a millimeter.

“Dear?”

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