Dead silence. Dredd’s eyes go evil, and he tells Cinnamon, “There’s good folks in Louisiana. They’ll take us in. You’ll see.”

“Then stay with them. We don’t need to be taken in. We’ve already seen what you’re about, what you offer, and it ain’t about family or freedom.”

Anger burns in Dredd’s eyes. Reaching across, he grabs Cinnamon’s ankle. “It’s not your decision.”

Kicking free of his grip, she tells him, “You’re right. It’s Canary’s and Anne’s and Trot’s. It’s free will.”

“I’m with Cinnamon,” Anne says.

“Me, too,” says Trot.

“So are we,” Canary tells Dredd.

Again silence. Anne watches the dynamic play out. Cinnamon doesn’t trust him. Apparently, never has.

He speaks. “So that’s how it is. Cinnamon returns. Brainwashes everyone into a mutiny against me. Even the new girl, who hasn’t even given me a chance, who doesn’t even know my kindness. What I’ve created, sacrificed, and endured. Wow. Fucking wow!” Turning his face sideways, away from Cinnamon and the others, looking out another hole cut into the compartment, he watches trees flit past. Anger animates the grime, vessels, and tattoos on Dredd’s face. Closing his eyes, he pouts like a spoiled adolescent. Resting his head on the dirty, graffitied compartment wall, he sulks in silent rage.

Cinnamon leans into Anne’s shoulder. Anne grabs her hands, laces her dirty fingers within Cinnamon’s, feeling her warmth, a need and a want. Cinnamon whispers into her ear, “We’re gonna need more money. But I’m not telling Dredd jack shit. There’s a chance we may need to stay in Louisiana a day or two. Hit the city, then catch out. We don’t gotta stay where he stays, though. Plenty of street encampments.”

Turning to Cinnamon, Anne looks into her eyes and smiles. “No go,” she whispers. “I got us covered.”

Surprise lifts and brightens Cinnamon’s smudged features. “How? You been holding out?”

“No. I . . . it’s how I nearly killed my brother with the skillet. He caught me stealing from our father’s nest egg. Attacked me and, well . . . he got a skillet upside his fucking head, and I got the cash in my pack.”

Giggling, Cinnamon tells her, “Damn, girl, I like your style. Just full of surprises.”

In that instant, Ann sees the desire in her new friend’s eyes and feels a sudden yearning to kiss her lips. But she doesn’t. If Cinnamon can fight back her want, she can do the same.

And Anne whispers, “Anything to get us out west. See some different scenery. To be free from restraint.”

Cinnamon tells Anne, “I know folks out in Kansas. We get there, we can squat a few days. Trust me. You’ll love it.”

Anne feels the warming glow and tingle, and she says, “Long as I’m with you, I’m happy.”

HUNTER