A freak accident at Chloe's seventeenth birthday party reveals her psychic abilities, and the community responds by condemning her as a witch who must be burned alive. As she attempts to escape across the dystopian, war-ravaged territory of her home...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
PEEKING AROUND THE WINDOW FRAME, Wayne announced, "They've got us surrounded."
Chloe peered from the other side of the window frame and saw men rustling through the bushes. Others were hiding behind tree trunks at a safe distance. Undoubtedly, this was the entire force of the sheriff's Regulators, combined with other citizens who felt like joining the posse. They knew that the men would charge sooner or later. None of their pursuers would want to wait for surrender considering the longer they were out on the trail, the more painfully they would feel the lack of home cooked food. At the same time, all the men held back at a safe distance, most likely because Chloe had already wounded one of the two Regulator scouts.
Using a horseshoe hammer from his pack along with horseshoe nails and three baseboards torn from the walls, Wayne had managed to block the front door so they couldn't be surprised from behind. The house had paned window frames, so if anyone attempted to break in through the windows, they would almost certainly hear it. Wayne had also used a horseshoe nail on every window to keep the men outside from sliding them open. Fortunately, from their position, Chloe and Wayne had an excellent view of the front door and three windows. Almost on cue, six men charged toward the front door of the house.
"Give them a warning shot, but don't hit anybody," Wayne said.
Easier said than done, Chloe thought as she took aim ahead of the men. The pistol shot and burst of dirt directly in front of their path sent them scampering back toward the safety of the bushes and tree trunks.
In response, a volley of shots came toward the window, sending plaster dust and shattered bits of wood flying across the kitchen.
"Save your ammunition!" The sheriff shouted to his men. "That's my son in there!"
Bullets were a precious commodity and apparently, even a witch wasn't worth wasting so much lead. Chloe and Wayne kept watch while the men congregated in the distance. They were obviously deciding on the best course of action to capture the fugitives without resorting to a prolonged siege. Once the men dispersed, there was no way for Chloe and Wayne to learn their plan—except to wait. Nearly an hour passed before an acrid odor curdled the lining of Chloe's nasal passages.
"Smells like smoke," she said.
Concerned, Wayne left her to guard the window and ran to check the rest of the house. Flames were licking at the panes of the window on the back side of the house, and a thick black smoke was seeping through the window frame. At that very moment, a rock came crashing through the glass allowing even more smoke to billow into the house. He ran back to the kitchen.
"Wayne, your father's coming toward the window," Chloe said.
The father approached with his hands raised. Once he was closer, he shouted, "Witch... you can burn here or in town, either way we have you! Let my son go!"
