The man blew out a rattly breath and took another step back, still holding the seagull behind him, which I assumed he was planning on eating. “Gangs,” he said. “Turf wars. Downtown is the worst. They’ve already taken over hotels and restaurants. Those who fought back died. They control the streets and the food down there. Some of the smaller gangs are laying claim to residential areas. No homes are safe.” He looked up the street as though thinking of his own home and then mumbled, “I gotta go. Good luck.”

My heart had dropped as he’d spoken. Gangs were staking claim to homes? Whole neighborhoods?

I heard the rumble of an engine and turned toward the sound. The man stopped and looked back at us. “If you have anything of value on you, I’d hide,” he said, and then he darted between two houses and disappeared.

Anything of value. That phrase had recently taken on a whole new meaning.

I pulled Emily onto a porch on the other side of the street, and we ducked behind the railing, our eyes meeting as the rumble grew louder. She blinked, features contorted with alarm as she grabbed my hand.

The vehicle passed by slowly, the sounds of male chatter accompanying the growl of the car. I raised my head a bare inch and peeked over the wooden barrier we were kneeling behind. A red classic convertible Ferrari was just rounding the corner, men holding guns sitting on the tops of the seats on both sides, their heads turning as they surveyed the area. One of the men tossed his cigarette right before another man said, “We’ve been through here. Let’s go.” And the car made a sudden turn, tires squealing as they disappeared around a corner.

“What the hell?” Emily breathed.

“The gangs that man just mentioned. Probably out looking for food and water,” I said. Other than the cars and weapons they obviously already had, that was what was of value now.

We remained behind the railing for several more minutes, the roar of the car receding, before we left the porch. I looked over my shoulder and swore I saw the movement of a curtain. Someone had watched us as we’d taken cover on their porch. A shiver snaked down my spine. I needed to be more careful. Stay sharp, Mattice, I could hear Hosea saying, the same advice he’d given me in prison, the reminder that had helped keep me from getting regular beatdowns. And worse.

Although if what the man in the car had said was true, they’d been through here already which had to mean these homes were stripped of sustenance. And the man clutching the dead bird suddenly made much more sense.