"Mama, they're still following us."
"Shirley stop sticking your nose out the window, they'll notice."
"Too late. They already followed us off the freeway, I don't think they care that I can see them."
Dayna bit back a sigh "Sit down and drink your juice, I'm handling it."
"You're turning into the gas station. Are you going to shoot them when we stop?"
"Shirley, I'm handling it."
"That's how you handled the last time."
At thirteen Shirley was too old to be drinking 'tropical' flavored juice out of a small carboard box and too young to know about the handgun in the glove compartment, that Dayna had been involved in a few bad deals overseas.
Too young to be comfortable knowing that her mother had hidden more than the average amount of bodies.
"While you're busy can I go in and buy KitKats?"
"Fine."
"Money?"
"In my purse. Grab me a coffee while you're in there."
"Okey-dokey."
Shirley dove for the money as Dayna parked the car and the black sedan cruised in slowly behind them.
"So much for a relaxing road trip," Dayna muttered to herself as Shirley hopped out of her seat and raced into the little store. Dayna reached across the dash to unlock the glove compartment.
There was a knock at the window just as she was relocking it and she sat up to find herself underneath a familiar squint.
"Hi," she said as she tucked the handgun into her purse "What's up Greg?"
"Out. We want to talk to you."
Dayna pulled a face a the "we" and was glad she had stuck the extra clip into the side pocket of her purse, which she slung over her shoulder as she opened the car door and slid out into the early Sunday morning air.
"Gentlemen," she greeted the four men as though they were business partners, which they had been once, in a certain sense, but certainly weren't now "Good to see you all again."
It really wasn't.
"We'd like to talk to you," "Greg" said. She doubted that was actually his name, but it was the only one she'd ever known him by "Out in the back."
"Sound good," Dayna gripped her purse strap a little tighter and as though she was entirely in control of the situation led the way around the corner, where they were hidden from the road and any passersby.
Just them and hundreds of miles of cacti and coyotes.
"So I assume we're not all here to catch up?" Dayna asked as she was encircled.
There was no answer forthcoming.
"Fantastic," she sighed as Greg pulled a gun on her "Really. You took it that personally?
"You're a traitor."
"I was never on your side," Dayna shrugged, her hand straying into her purse "Technically I was an infiltrator."
There was a chorus of safeties clicking off.
"We're not really here about technicalities," Greg said "Just retribution."
Dayna clicked her tongue "Oh, you're no fun."
"Got the kid," footsteps crunched in the dirt behind them and Dayna cursed under her breath.
There had been five men. Not four.
She turned to find Shirley's arm in the grip of a burley fellow she didn't recognize and she grit her teeth.
"They only had decaf," Shirley informed her mother "How're you handling things?"
"If you don't want the kid to get hurt, then take your hand out the purse and put it on the ground."
"Not great," Dayna admitted to Shirley as she did as Greg had told her "I mean five dudes? How am I gonna hide all their bodies?"
"Enough Day," Greg said as he moved towards her, gun still trained on her head.
"I could help?" Shirley offered "It'd go faster if I helped."
"Sure, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind." Shirley wrenched her arm free and skipped away, hands raised and fire fell with a roaring.
In a flash, it was just Dayna, Shirley, miles of cacti and coyotes, and five piles of ash on the ground.
"Alright," Dayna picked her purse back off the ground "C'mon. We're gonna be late."
"Over the hills to grandmother's house we go!" Shirley sang as she peeled the wrapped back from her chocolate and skipped alongside Dayna as they trekked back to the parking lot.
"We don't tell Grandma about any of this."
"Not even the part where I turned five people to bacon?"
"Especially that part. No one is supposed to know about the phoenix stuff."
"So I can't make popcorn in the bedroom like I do at home?"
"No. If you must absolutely have popcorn I will make you some in the microwave."
"Fine."
And away they sped, down the freeway, to grandmother's house. A carton of juice boxes underneath the seat and the gun stored back in the glove compartment.
