Yesterday, when she’d parked near Chevy’s cabin, she’d had a chance to ask Tina if she should worry about running into PZs if she was there at night.

To Frankie’s relief, the Zealots patrolled their perimeters during the day, never after dark. Which meant less chance of getting caught when Kit and Aric came through the fence.

Having learned a painful lesson about getting too close to the compound, Frankie had been extremely careful to stay out of sight.

Tomorrow, she’d do another daytime hike to the compound and this time would mark the trail with the transparent reflective paint. She’d tested a couple of spots here in the park—it made a glowing white blotch when she was using the NVM—and was invisible during daylight. If the PZs weren’t out there at night, they’d never see the paint.

In the center of the woods, she grinned and did a quick happy dance.

Then froze. What was that?

Yelling, hoots…and gunfire. Still, it didn’t seem too close, and the shouts sounded like a bunch of drunks having a good time. Well, it was Saturday night.

She made one more circuit inside the woods, this time striving for both grace—ha!—and silence.

Good job, Frankie.

A glance at her phone—using the unaided eye—showed she needed to leave. The roadhouse would be closed, and Bull would be coming to pick her up soon. After stowing everything in her small backpack, she jogged down the wide gravel trail toward home.

Almost there, she slowed at the sound of shouting.

Outside of the end cabin, several men were throwing their luggage into two vehicles while someone yelled at them.

After a second, she recognized Dante’s voice. “Don’t need no drugged-up assholes shootin’ up the area. The cost of repairing the windows and doors and picnic tables will be on your credit cards, and you’ll damn well pay the bill, or I’ll send the police to collect.”

“You’ll regret throwing us out, you bastard,” one yelled back.

“Fucking old fart,” one man said to another. “Send the fucking police, see if we care.” Steel from the man’s numerous piercings glinted in the lights from the cabin.

Frankie shook her head and decided to stay inside the shelter of the trees until they were gone. Even from here, the men appeared violent. Dante apparently felt the same since his shotgun stayed on target the entire time.

She frowned and hoped it hadn’t been her windows that’d been shot out.

Chapter Seventeen

It is necessary for us to learn from others’ mistakes. You will not live long enough to make them all yourself. ~ ADM Hyman G. Rickover, US Navy

Frankie hadn’t been manager for quite a week yet, but she already loved it.