“She’s hurt,” Nitro said, and rolled her gently onto her chest.

An angry cut split open her right shoulder. It was filled with blood the color of puce that turned a brighter red where it leaked down her back. Elizaveta thought the wound resembled a slightly parted mouth smeared with raspberry jam.

Pita was saying something in a frantic, frightened voice. Rosa began crying. Jack scooped her into his arms and carried her away.

“Was she stabbed?” Jesus asked. “Was she stabbed too?”

Nitro nodded. “Looks similar to Miguel’s wounds.”

“What should we do?” Pepper asked. “She needs help. What should we do?”

Elizaveta grabbed Jack’s bottle of vodka, knelt next to Lucinda, and dosed the gash.

Lucinda moaned softly.

Nitro asked the woman what happened, who did this to her. She didn’t respond. Her eyes remained shut. He peeled off his tank top. Bare-chested, he folded it into a compress and pressed it against the wound.

Elizaveta felt the woman’s forehead. “She has fever.”

Pepper draped his purple blazer over her, covering her nakedness.

“She needs something warmer than that,” Jesus said.

“Got anything handy, bro?” Nitro said.

“We should take her to Solano’s cabin,” Jack said. He stood separate from them in the corner, holding Rosa in his arms.

“There are clothes there?” Nitro asked.

“I didn’t check. But there were two bedrooms, two dressers. At the very least there were sheets on the beds.”

“How far is it?”

“Ten minutes.”

Elizaveta glanced out the hut’s door, at the dark and rain.

“I’m not going out there,” Pita said. “No way. She’s out there, she’ll get us—”

“Enough, Pita,” Jesus said severely.

“She’s out there—”

“Enough!”

She bit her bottom lip and glared at him.

“We’ll vote,” Nitro said. “Everyone in favor of moving to the cabin, raise your hand.”

Everyone except for Pita raised their hand.

6

The icy rain pelleted Elizaveta’s skin. The wind threw her hair in front of her face and threatened to knock her over. She planted her legs apart and held onto a tree for support. Everyone was struggling against the storm, especially little Rosa, who was holding onto Jack’s leg with all her might.

Pita went down with a yelp. She lay on her back, unable to get back up. It was as though she were wrestling an invisible opponent who had close-lined her and now was sitting on her chest. Her wavy black hair seemed electrified, whipping this way and that. Pepper removed his arm from around Jesus’s waist and helped Pita back to her feet.

“The storm’s gotten too strong!” Jesus shouted, balancing on his good foot. Like Elizaveta, he held onto a tree for support.

Nitro, who was in the lead, turned to face them. He carried Lucinda in his arms. His biceps flexed powerfully. Raindrops pinged off his bare shoulders. “Don’t stop!” he shouted as he continued on.