Miranda and Amina exchange a puzzled glance.

“El tampón?” he ventures.

“He’s right.” Cole’s low voice sparks with excitement. “If we had one, we could use it to plug the bullet wound. It would probably stop the bleeding.”

When neither of the other girls speaks, Miranda says, “Um, I’ve got one.” She opens her purse and gets it out. Not meeting anyone’s eyes, she starts to hand it to Cole.

He shakes his head. “We don’t need another pair of hands touching it. Wash up first, and then, when you open it, only touch the applicator.”

Oh no no no. “Can’t you put it in?” Miranda says.

“We need to minimize the chance of contamination.”

After a long pause, Miranda goes to wash her hands. For a few seconds, Javier’s blood turns the water pink as it runs off her fingers. After it runs clear, she washes the ridiculous-looking makeup, now tear-streaked and smeared, from her face. She turns the water to cold and drinks it from her cupped hands.

In the mirror, her eyes look back at her from someone else’s head. Who is this girl with dark circles under her eyes and blood smeared on her clothes?

Breaking her own gaze, Miranda turns the water to hot and scrubs her hands with soap. She waves her hand to get a paper towel, then carefully dries. Back out in the main part of the storeroom, she gets down on her knees and opens the wrapper.

“Just put it in slowly,” Cole advises. To Javier he says, “Try to take deep breaths.”

It’s easier than she thought it would be to slide the plastic applicator into the exit hole. When it’s about halfway in, Javier groans softly, and Miranda freezes. But Cole nods at her to keep going. Swallowing back nausea, she does, until only the string is showing, then pulls back the applicator.

Using the scissors, Cole cuts a flannel shirt into squares. Miranda and Amina help hold them in place while he binds them with Miranda’s Ace bandage, which has a built-in Velcro edge. Grace does nothing more than watch, but at least she’s no longer keening and muttering.

Javier rolls onto his back. “Thank you,” he says softly. “Thank you, Cole and Miranda, Amina and Grace.” He nods at each of them in turn.

Miranda has to look away. Will the things they did really matter? Or will Javier and everyone else end up just as dead as if they hadn’t done anything?

The One Who Decides

THE ONE WHO DECIDES

4:18 P.M.

Parker takes one more step back into the Shoe Mill and out of sight of the killers. He lets his body make the decision. It’s what makes him a good wrestler. If you wait until you’ve analyzed everything, you’ll just end up getting pinned.