The only time I can remember seeing death up close was when my grandfather died. I was seven, and I didn’t really understand what happened. I didn’t know what to expect from the service or the wake, but I vividly remember expecting him to get up at the end of it. Resurrection, maybe. Rousing from a slumber, really.

One of the soldiers makes for Leah. She puts her gun away and tries to pry Leah off Reid. She’s gentle in a determined sort of way. It’s obvious they aren’t as intimidated by a slender girl, and I hate that for so many different reasons.

Leah fights. She struggles. She pushes at the soldier without any coordination whatsoever. “Let me go, let me go, let me get to him.”

The soldier grabs her by a wrist and uses the momentum to pivot Leah away from Reid and back toward us. Leah lets herself be turned, and once she faces the woman, she makes a claw with her hand and scratches.

The soldier releases her with a yelp and a thrust, and it sends Leah stumbling backward. Another soldier uses his gun to push her away. Leah trips over her own feet and collides with Grace, who is scrambling to find purchase.

Next to me, Logan straightens, poised to fight or protect her sister. I reach out to grab her, knowing that she’ll hate me for it—

When another loud gunshot shatters the night sky.

I scream.

Was I screaming before too?

Following the second gunshot, everything and everyone freezes. The soldiers, in front of the barricades and Reid. Hunter and his crew, trying to get to their friend. Leah and Grace and their tangled collection of limbs. The soldier who got scratched—and who keeps a few steps distance between herself and the others.

“Stop this.” The lieutenant’s voice is loud and clear. He’s holding a gun pointed at the sky, like he’s willing to shoot the stars themselves. “Do not attempt to come closer again, or we’ll be forced to use any means necessary to defend ourselves.”

Defend? The word barely registers. From whom? A bunch of unarmed teens in the face of fully armed soldiers. That’s ludicrous.

“We have to get to him,” one of the boys says. I don’t know his name. I don’t care. He points at Reid, who is still lying amid the barricades on the road, but he has no force behind his declaration. His cheeks are streaked with tears. Several crew members have raised their hands and are walking back. It’s been drilled into them to follow orders.

“You have to turn around,” the lieutenant counters. “Go back to where you came from. Everyone is under orders to remain in their homes, and that includes you. We’ll dispose of the body.”

The words are a gut punch. My hands twitch to cross myself. I should say a prayer for him. Anything.

Grace pushes herself up to her feet, and unlike Hunter, she is bleeding from a head wound. She pulls Leah with her. Leah rests her hands on her knees and coughs. She’s struggling to catch her breath. Grace places an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her to an upright position.