CROC

Willow stood on the bank, her eyes wide and unblinking. "Willow." She needed to leave. She needed to hide.

She didn't respond.

"Willow," I said louder. It was as if she'd emptied. The men were slowly getting closer. I hurried from the water and forced her to look at me. She blinked as if waking from a dream.

"Their focus will be on the men in camp. Go wait in the garden with Julia."

She shook her head. "The kids—"

"I'll protect the kids." The thought of her anywhere near a fight made my blood so hot it burned.
"I need you to promise me you'll protect our baby. Promise me you'll wait in the garden."

She stared at me, saying nothing with words, and everything with her scent. The sound of boots plopping in the mud set my teeth on edge. We didn't have time for this. "Promise me!" It wasn't a request any longer, and I was no longer thinking like a human. Protect. That was the only word I knew. The only thing that mattered.

"I promise." Her voice was so small, so broken, not hers.

I pressed my palm to her stomach and kissed her head, inhaling her scent like I could ingrain it into my nose. "Go." I released her and returned to the bank. Then the call I'd barely been holding in exploded from my chest.

The gators answered, tearing onto land and headed toward camp. I wouldn't let them face the men alone, where they could be picked off one by one. Not again. At least now, we had help. I turned just in time to watch Willow disappear from view, then I ran as hard as I could into camp.

The men were alert by the time I got there. Some already armed, the others scrambling to get there. Merle rushed up to me. "What the hell is—"

"Officials are headed this way," I shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. My gaze scanned the masses, searching frantically for the kids. I needed to get them somewhere safe so I could return to Willow and Julia. Men rushed back and forth, falling into position and training their guns on the path. It wasn't until the majority settled that I finally saw them. They were balled together behind the barrel of apples, frozen in silent terror.

I rushed forward and hoisted them into my arms. "I'm here," I soothed.

They clung to me, burying their faces into shoulders. The first shots fired, and the babies jolted. Protect. That was all that mattered. My family would live. They would be unharmed. I ran, leaving the fight behind. My feet pounded the ground far beyond the camp, deeper and deeper into the thickest part of the woods, where a massive pine caught my eye.

"Hold onto my neck," I said. "Don't let go."

Their tiny arms curled like snakes intent on the kill. I gripped the bark of the trunk and hurried into its branches. "It's okay." I had to pry them loose. "It's okay." I sat them together on the same limb. "You'll be safe here. I'm going to go get Willow and Granny Julia."

Eric gripped my leg. "No go!" he cried. "Safe."

"Pappy has to go sleep now."

"No!"

My chest constricted. "I promise, I'll come back. No matter what. But I need you two to be very brave. Can you do that?"

Eric nodded, and a single tear dripped off his nose. Eve took him into her arms. She suddenly looked too wise. I didn't want this to be normal for her. This wasn't good enough. Pappy had protected me. He'd kept me safe from the world, even after he was gone, and I owed it to them to do the same. Yet, here I was, failing them, leaving them alone the way he'd left me.

The gunfire intensified, becoming a constant roar in the distance.

"I'll be back," I said one last time, then I forced myself to jump to the ground and race toward the danger.

***
FERN

Tex ran unlike any man I'd ever seen. As if I weighed nothing, he flew through the trees, jumping over logs and ducking branches. The gunfire grew louder with each foot he gained, and my heart matched the rhythm. Rapid. Deafening.

I was going in the wrong direction. Everything I'd learned—all the thoughts that plagued me—demanded I get free. I needed to leave, to run. But then I'd look at Tex's face, see his desperate urgency to go forward, and all I could hear was Daddy. All I could hear was his voice saying those words.

It's our job as good people to help.

Tex skidded to a halt close to the edge of camp and lowered me to my feet. He stared through the trees, then cursed beneath his breath. "I don't know what to do." He ground his teeth. "Shit!" His body spun to face me. "Okay, Darlin'. Here's the plan. I want you to stay right here. How far can you shoot that bow?"

Stay here? Alone? Neither helping nor running? Doing nothing. I didn't do nothing. Help and die. Don't and live. Those were the only two choices. Not nothing.

It's our job as good people to help.

"Hundred yards. Up to two-fifty if I'm lucky."

"Good, if a suit comes, you stick an arrow in his ass. Just like huntin'. Can you do that?"

"I'm not staying here," I said. "I can...I can help."

Help. Good people help. Good people die. My gaze lowered to the ground, scanning the rotted leaves, seeing none of them. Instead, I saw birthdays and Christmases. I saw Summer nights out in the woods and Daddy's face the first time I'd made the shot. I saw John racing beside me through the pastures, laughing.

My mind settled, rinsed clean by the images. Because good people lived. They'd lived. All those memories I'd refused to visit were my life. They were my reason, and now, my reason stood in front of me, another good person running toward the danger. I couldn't walk away, to be alone, to replay Daddy's words over and over, knowing I'd ignored them. Daddy's words had kept me alive. He'd taught me how to survive, and now I knew what he'd been trying to say that day. I knew why he'd been willing to risk himself, to risk us all.

There was no point in living if I couldn't live with myself.

"Of course you said that." His harsh words came from between his teeth. He yanked a forty-five from the waistband of his jeans and let it hang at his side. "Stay with me. Do not leave my side."

I readied my bow and jogged to keep up with his pace. When we reached the edge of camp, Tex walked right in and lifted the pistol out straight in front of him. His men crouched in various positions, firing, ducking, and shouting back and forth to one another as alligators and bears worked together to fling bodies and rip away limbs.

Tex emptied the clip, and Officials dropped like glass bottles off fence posts. One, two, three, another and again.

Running on pure adrenaline, I lifted my bow and began loosing arrows. One. Two. I didn't hear Daddy or Mama or John. I didn't hear them because they were gone. Men like these came to our home and took them away from me. From the world. Good people. I fired more, breathed in, breathed out. It was that day. Another day just like the one before, only I wasn't running. I wasn't alone. I was with good people, and it was my job to help.

Tex released the empty clip and let it fall to the ground, then jerked another from the inside of his jacket. "Where do men wear suits, Boys?" He bellowed up into the atmosphere.

A chorus of men's voices rang up over the carnage. "A funeral!"

He popped the new clip into place and shot an official ducked behind a distant tree. His voice deepened and projected, like some long dormant beast. "Whose funeral is it?"

"Ain't my goddamn funeral!" They roared back in sync.

Shots erupted, and I ran out of targets for my arrows. I couldn't aim quick enough. No sooner would I find an official, bullets would fill him, or a mass of fur would barrel forward to tackle him to the ground.

The world narrowed, and it was too full. Blood splattered, men screamed, curses and growls and roaring bears molded with the gunfire to create one deafening cacophony that split my ears.

Then, little by little, it quieted, until all I could hear was the chime it left behind. I stood, bow clutched out in front of me, chest heaving, staring at the carnage. Bodies lay scattered and piled over one another. Bears and men, gators and blood-stained clinical white.

Tex gripped my shoulders and shook me. "Fern? I asked if you're alright!"

I nodded and sucked in a rattling breath. "I'm okay." Was I? So much death. So much destruction. So much loss. Again.

He pressed my head against his chest as if to shield my eyes. As if to save me from a sight that was already ingrained. I let him because I needed it. The stability. The safety.

"They came up the far side out of nowhere," a man said just behind me.

"I want all of our supplies onto the boats. Have Hank and Jim run and bring them upriver."

"Hank is dead," the man said.

Tex grew silent for a long moment. His breaths shuttered, but it was so slight, I didn't think I would have noticed were I not pressed so close to him.

"Have Reggie get the second boat. I want the men organized. Get a group together to transport our supplies onboard and another to check the wounded. Take anyone who can be saved to Lucille."

A roar sounded in the distance, followed by a wailing cry.

"Get it done," Tex said, already moving toward the sound. "We don't know how much time we have before more of those mother fuckers show up."