I step to the edge of the cellar and peer at my brother. From the bottom of the hole, his eyes are wide as a jackrabbit’s caught in my snare. His lower lip trembles. He looks five instead of eight. “It’s okay,” I lie.

My mother grips my shoulder and presses down. “Get in.” Her voice is a choked whisper. She glances back at the dust plume. The gray cloud hangs huge, blocking out the horizon, a tornado set to tear our world apart.

I take a step back and narrow my eyes. “You first.”

“I have to get Bell.” She looks towards the upstairs window.

I grip her arm. “No! They won’t take Auntie. She’s too old.”

My mama pulls me to her chest in a brief hug. Then she scrambles out of my clutches. I claw for her dress, but she’s gone. “Don’t go!”

“I love you!” she yells over her shoulder, her voice full of tears. The back door thwacks as she disappears inside it.

“Come back!” I yell, but it’s too late.

I stare at the door, wondering if I’ll ever see her again. I take a step toward the house, but the truck motors rumble so close they rattle my molars. They will be here in seconds. And what my stepfather says is true. If they see me, they will stop at nothing to have me and I can’t put my family in danger.

Ethan whines, “Riley?”

I lower myself into the ground as tears streak the dirt on my cheeks. I draw the wooden shutters and the storm cellar plunges into darkness. Strings of light stream through the cracks of the rotting boards. This earthen hole reeks of damp soil and musty wood. A cobweb brushes my face. I cringe and bat at it as I step carefully to the bench where my brother is a small, dark shadow. Ethan crawls on my lap. He’s all arms and legs now, too big to curl onto his sister’s lap. His hands claw into my clothing, holding me so close I feel his heart flutter like a baby bird caught in his shirt. On a normal day I wouldn’t put up with baby stuff, but today is different. Today we might lose everything.

“Shh. Shh,” I murmur, until I remember we need to be silent. I grip Ethan to me with one hand and the gun with the other.

The engines shake the ground so hard I wonder if their trucks are parked on top of us. Dirt sifts through the cracks above. Brakes whine. Doors slam. Ethan trembles.

Husky voices raise the hair on my arms. They call out. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I can guess the tone, which right now is friendly enough. Where’s my mama and Auntie Bell? I can’t just sit here. I slip Ethan off my lap. He moans in protest, his fingers grasping at my clothes, pleading. I pry them off and slip up the ladder. A rung creaks under my weight, but the men are too far off and their voices too loud to hear me. I climb up and press my eye against the knothole.