My hands are shaking as the two men approach. The hatchet is by my side, but I doubt Scarecrow or any of his men have seen it. Regardless, I doubt I have the strength to swing at them. Somehow I manage to look over at Gilbert and Ethan. Gilbert is red-faced and ready to fight and Ethan just stares at me. I hold his gaze for a long moment. It’s as though he’s trying to keep me focused on him so I don’t look down at Lucas’ body on the ground.

I could have stopped it, I think to myself. I saw it before it happened. I could have saved him!

I turn my head away from Ethan and stare up at the sky. I don’t want to look at the ground. I can’t look at the ground. I reach up to wipe a tear from my cheek only to see that it’s a red, thick liquid. Lucas’ blood.

“She’s a pretty one, boss,” one of the raiders says as they come closer. “Might want to keep her around!” The other raiders laugh stupidly.

I watch as Gilbert tightens his grip on his club. Just as the first one steps next to the dumpster, he jumps up and slams his club into the man’s stomach. The raider doubles over and Gilbert brings the club down on his head, no doubt killing him instantly. The other raider points his gun at Gilbert, but instinct takes over me as I grab my hatchet, let out a scream and swing it into the side of his knee. He falls back, shooting his gun in the air as he yells out in pain. Gilbert rushes toward him and swings his club down on his throat with a loud crunch, grabbing the man’s rifle in the process.

Bullets whiz past my head and I duck back behind the car as Gilbert scoots in close to me. He lifts the rifle over the trunk of the car and blind-fires three or four rounds. The raiders shout out for the others to take cover. I look at Ethan, and he already has the other dead raider’s gun in his hands. He dares to lift his head above the dumpster and take aim as Scarecrow and his men find cover behind the doors of their vehicles.

The bullets slam into the sides of the dumpster and car louder than if they were sledgehammers. I drop the hatchet and cover my ears. My eyes are magnetized to Lucas’ body on the ground and I can’t look away. The bullet hole in his forehead drools blood and I know it is my fault. I could have done something. I saw that this was going to happen.