“No! Wab, no!” I screamed, and the door opened.

“What’s all this yelling in here?” Elizabeth Purdue stalked in, hands going to her hips.

“Now, Zhee, now!” There was no more time to wait. Not another second, not with the baby turning blue. Zheegwon sprang from where he sat directly in front of the old woman and tackled her to the ground. Her head hit the cement, and there was a loud crack. She never moved again. Then a gunshot rang out, and Zheegwon slumped against her.

Tree jumped up and over the fallen bodies and grabbed the guard who had shuffled in, rifle still hot in her hands. He struggled to take it, and they fell out the open door.

Another gunshot and another, so loud my ears rang and my vision tunneled. I couldn’t make out particulars at first. I was focused only on the things I had to do right away—those came in clearly, a specific list to get through. I slid across the floor, banging up against the still-warm body of old Purdue oozing blood from her broken head, and pried the keys out of her hand. I tried key after key in the lock, swearing and shaking, until one fit and Wab’s cage popped open. I yanked the door wide and grabbed the baby, blue around the mouth like she’d been eating Popsicles. Wab was shaking, eyes vacant, her body rebelling against the movements of her hands just a moment ago.

“C’mon, come on,” I whispered to the baby, careful to cradle her dark head even as it lolled against me. I got to Isaac and laid the baby by his legs while undid his shackles. He grabbed up the baby so I could free Miig and the others. I unlocked Miig first, and he moved like a man without a wound, tackling an older woman in an oversize cat sweater who was brandishing a knife. At the same time, Isaac crawled along the wall toward Chi Boy. He placed the still baby down in front of her father and started the mechanics of getting life back into all the tiny places it should fit, tilting her head back and pushing with delicate fingers. Rania was staring up at the ceiling, our struggle reflected in her unseeing eyes. I hadn’t even seen the bullet enter the shed from outside, but she was gone. I felt under her thigh for the scissors and closed them in a fist. The light bulb was broken, and the shed was darker than before. I turned on my knees toward the turmoil and came face-to-face with the open end of a gun barrel.

Veronica was holding the gun with shaking hands. Gone were the tears and cookies. When it came down to it, there was nothing left in her body but anger. Anger that we felt we deserved to fight for our lives. Anger that we would take something from her, from her own precious child. “You asshole!” She was screeching, wasn’t giving directions, wasn’t even trying to get me back into captivity. She was bent on killing, on nothing more than the math of bullet plus flesh equals removal.