Devil for a Lost Cause

Thirteen

After our initial shock wears off, we both spin around.

Behind us across a parking lot, three men corner another against a dilapidated motel. Our distance hides us from them, but that also means the bushes cutting the lot in half and the trees make it difficult to see their faces. There's another scream, and I realize it's not a man being cornered. It's a woman.

"We have to help her," Roland says immediately.

All instinct yells at me to run. I'm twenty feet away, and already I can tell the attackers are strong.

"Sam? Are you listening?"

I swallow. "We can't. We can't take them down."

"But we have to do something!—"

"Shhh." I turn to him sharply. "Keep your voice down."

"We can't let those men have at her," he hisses in my ear. "Not if we can help."

Across the street, one of the men forces his victim against the wall with a pocket knife.

Roland grabs my jacket roughly. "Sam—"

"All right, Roland, shut up!" I wrench from his hold and drag in a breath. "Let me think."

He's right. If we don't step in, no one will. The girl's been caught by two buff men and another, taller one. There's no way she's getting out of this on her own.

I move closer and crouch behind a tree near an unlit shop, Roland trailing behind. I strain to see better. It's hard to make out the girl's words because of how much she stutters when she speaks.

"Look guys, I-I-I don't have anything, 'kay?" she says. "Nothing."

"You aren't from around here, are ya?" the one with the pocket knife rasps.

"Here." Keeping my voice low, I hold out the bag of food to Roland. "Go back to the apartment and take this with you."

"What?" He shoots me a look of disbelief. "I'm not leaving you."

"You don't understand the South, brother. Once those men find out we have food, they're not leaving until they get it. Now go."

"No." He crosses his arms over his chest. "Why don't we call the police?"

"Not enough time." I'm about to threaten that if he doesn't leave, I'll make him wish he would've, but the girl speaks again.

"Please," she begs. "I want to go home. That's all, you can let me go, and I'll never come back here. I swear it."

"Ah, now come on," another man slurs. He stumbles forward, obviously intoxicated. "You don't gotta leave so soon. The party's only startin'."

"Sam," Roland whispers.

"Wait for it."

My fingers dig into tree bark. I wish I'd brought my dagger. I was in such a hurry to get out of the apartment I forgot about it, so instead I scan the ground and pluck up a rock, thankful it's at least the size of a baseball. I set the food down.

In the light, tears slide down the girl's face. All three men close in on her now.

"Sam," Roland cautions.

My heart pounds. "Now."

I bolt out. "HEY!" I shout, which is probably stupid, but my first objective is to get their attention.

They turn their sneers on me, and the yellow light from the street lamps makes their features look sharper, more like creatures than humans.

"What do we got here?" One of them tosses a hand at me. He wears dust-coated boots and a black cowboy hat that dips low on his forehead. "The hero of the night," he finishes in a drawl.