While driving over from Trinity Loop, the frantic mother had phoned the school no less than a dozen times, getting no response on each attempt.

“If those APVs delivered assaulters with automatic weapons, then there’s nothing we can do,” Maria said. “Just one shooter with a machine gun and we’ll get cut to pieces. All we can do now is call for backup and wait for the cavalry to arrive.”

She knew exactly what Rachel was going to do next, but the question on her mind was whether she should stop the woman. Did it even matter? Should she let Rachel run headfirst into the spray of bullets for a pointless, inglorious death? Or should she lock the doors and handcuff the woman in the car with her until her daughter and all the other Watcher kids were slaughtered by Victor’s mercenary army? In her peripheral vision, she saw Rachel glance at her. A heartbeat later, Rachel went for the door handle, but Maria was faster, pushing the lock button.

“I’m sorry, Rachel, but I can’t let you do that,” she said, keeping her left index finger depressed on the door lock rocker switch on her side.

Rachel fixed her with a death stare that might have been chilling, had she not made a habit of convening with real evil. “Why are you doing this?”

“To keep you safe.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Rachel said.

A strange compulsion washed over Maria, and she took her foot off the brake and pressed the accelerator. “Fine, if you wanna die, let’s go die.”

Rain pelted the winshield with such fury that even on max speed, the wipers couldn’t keep up, giving her only fleeting glimpses of the road ahead as she accelerated toward the front gate. No sooner had she reached sixty miles per hour than she had to slam on the brakes to avoid crashing into the APV parked in the middle of the road in front of the gate. The Charger hydroplaned and fishtailed, causing Rachel to let out a panicked squeal while clutching the handle on the A-pillar.

Maria wrestled the big sedan under control at the last second and slid to a hard stop a few feet from the APV’s rear bumper. Temper hot, she shifted the transmission into park and retrieved her spare service weapon and spare magazines from the lockbox under her driver’s seat. She’d left her primary in the safe at the Trinity front gate, deciding the risk of being detained on the way out outweighed the benefit of having two pistols. She checked the weapon ready and slipped it and the extra mags into her waistband.