Far off in the periphery, a cluster of lights glowed bright. Mira’s gaze narrowed on them as she feared they were the mob, coming back for them both.

“The mob is coming for you,” Mira said. “For us. We need to get out of here but I don’t know where to go. If we go back to the entrance we’ll be running straight into them.”

They stood frozen as the crowd of men grew larger. Their faces were a blur, but she knew who they were. She looked out at the looming crowd and saw the years of men like these inflicting their violence. They would not rest until black bodies lay crumpled below their feet as they stampeded over their broken bones and bruised faces. They carried their pistols close to their chests, ready to fire, and they made their way through the woods searching for Mira and Jesse. Together, the mob was young and old—husky men who huffed with each leap as they tried to keep up, the fitter ones shouting as they ran, sweat running down their flustered faces.

Why had Mira tried to convince such men? Why had she believed there would be any outcome other than this? She should have known, should have seen it, but she saw that they were the devils, the murderers, the true thieves in the night. How many communities had men like these destroyed to rubble, leaving only ash from the burning wreckage as it billowed toward the sky? They escaped to their untouched homes while black people were rounded up on the streets and locked away. The elders left to remember had to be urged to tell of the damage done, too afraid if they spoke it would come to pass again. Bodies beaten, men and women with nooses tied around their necks as they were dragged through the streets. Mira saw the history of her people, of this country, of all the violence forgotten and ignored. It was here again. No, it was always here. What she saw before her could have been this year or last, ten years ago or a hundred. The scene was the same, the story the same, and she knew its ending.

“We could try and wait them out,” Jesse offered. “Morning’s not too far off, a couple hours, and then—”

And then? Mira had no answer because there was none, not for them. There was nowhere they could escape where the mob wouldn’t eventually find them. They were never going to make it to his car. They could hide out in the fields, get down low under the tobacco stalks, and pray they could disappear. Maybe make the mob believe they were gone.

“We’re not going to make it until morning, and by then they might have decided to get the police on us too,” Mira said, pulling on Jesse’s arm. “The river. That’s where we need to go.”