I had gotten about halfway up when there was a shout behind us. Sir was awake, and he knew we were gone.

We both shrieked in response. I had thought all my adrenaline was used up, but I could feel more flooding me.

Jenny turned to me, her face as pale as a ghost’s. “He’s going to catch us and kill us.”

“No, he’s not.” I tried to sound like I believed it. Moving as fast as I could, I stepped up one foot and then the other, clinging to the fence with my good hand. “Come on! Don’t stop. We are getting over this fence now!” I pushed up hard with shaking legs as I reached for a new handhold.

When I looked over, Jenny hadn’t made much progress. The pale green hand towel I had tied around the dog bite now looked black. How much blood had she lost? How much could she afford to lose?

And how long until Sir came for us? My head was on a swivel as I looked from Jenny to the gravel road and back again.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice broke. “I’m not strong enough.”

“Yes, you are. Look! Just take one more step up and then you can stand on that metal cross pipe.” Encouraging her helped me to ignore my own pain, to keep moving up myself.

Trembling, she did as I said.

“That’s excellent. You’re almost there. Now just reach your right hand up. Good. And now your left. We have to get over this fence before he comes.”

Even one-handed, I made it to the top before Jenny. Holding on to the metal pipe, I considered the strands of barbed wire. I needed to put the floor mat over them—and I also needed to hold on to the fence. To do both of those things was going to take two hands, even if one of them wasn’t working right. Jenny was clearly in no shape to help me.

I grabbed the top horizontal pole with my left hand, ignoring the grating jolt of pain from my broken wrist. With my right, I tugged the floor mat free of the sweatshirt. I had planned to put the narrowest part over the strands. Now that I was looking at the barbed wire, the mat seemed far too narrow. How could we hold on to it while also getting our legs over? Shifting my grip, I laid the mat down lengthwise. Then I pressed with all my might, making the wires dip.

Jenny was finally even with me. “You go first,” I told her. “Grab the mat with both hands and pull it down as hard as you can.” The barbed wire groaned when she put her weight on it, giving even farther. “Okay. Push on your toes and straighten your elbows. Good! Now swing your right leg wide and put it to the other side.”

But when she tried to push up, Jenny’s elbows buckled. After months of being locked away, she was simply too weak.

The sound of a motor made me jerk my head in the direction we had come from. An engine revved.

My heart crammed into the back of my throat as the white van came roaring out of the wall of crushed cars. It was heading straight toward us. The headlights blinded me.

I had thought he would come for us on foot.

But this was worse. He was going to run us over.

The past is no more; the future not yet. Nothing exists except the here and now. Our grand business is not to see what lies dimly at a distance, but to do what lies clearly at our hands.

—BRUCE LEE

SAVANNAH TAYLOR

I took a deep breath and then locked my teeth, preparing myself as best I could. With my left hand, I reached down, grabbed the back of Jenny’s pants, and hauled her up. The pain from my broken wrist was like a bolt of lightning that ran from my arm to my shoulder and then shot all through my body. The edges of my vision went dim.

But with my help, Jenny was able to straighten her arms and then lock her elbows. She threw one leg over the top of the fence and started to switch her grip.

I looked back. Horror swamped me. The white van was only a few yards away, its engine whining as it went faster and faster.

“Jump!” I yelled at Jenny.

She threw her other leg over the floor mat and then let go. Somehow she managed to land on her feet. She took one staggering giant step, two, and then sprawled like a rag doll.

Before I could even try to get over the gate, the van slammed into it. Just before my right foot would have been hit by the windshield, I pulled it up and out of the way. The chain locking the two gates together exploded. Both halves slammed back as if thrown open by a giant.

In a split second, desperately clinging to the metal pole at the top of the gate, I was spun one hundred eighty degrees. The gate slammed into the fence on the other side with so much force that it flung me loose. I landed hard on my butt, but I barely felt it. Instead, I scrambled to my feet and turned around. Had the van run over Jenny? I couldn’t see her, just the rear of the van and the red flare of its brake lights. Then the driver’s door banged open and Sir leapt out.

He spotted me. Lowering his shaved head like a bull, he ran straight at me.

I screamed as he dove at my legs. Too late, I tried to kick him. Before I could, Sir’s arms wrapped around my knees. He yanked my legs up, flipping me on my back. He didn’t loosen his grip as he slid his hands back to my ankles. After turning me in a half circle, he began dragging me back inside the salvage yard, ignoring my attempts to kick myself free. Sir was a black cutout against the spray of stars. Their light had traveled millions of miles to reach us. And despite their glow, those stars could have died thousands of years ago.

Just like I probably would tonight.

Once we were away from the fence, Sir threw my legs down, then stepped over me and sat on my hips. His left hand pinned my right shoulder to the ground. I tried to buck him off, but he was too heavy. The corners of his mouth lifted, but it wasn’t a smile. It was a shape he made with his mouth.

He drew his right hand back. Silver suddenly winked at me. The knife.

Sir raised it over his head and then swung it down toward my chest.

Just as if I was blocking a strike in kung fu, I threw up my splinted left arm to deflect it. The tip of the blade caught in the thick magazine, but the force of the blow still made me cry out.

Before he could yank the knife free, I swung my arm back over my head as hard as I could. At the end I snapped my wrist, the way Sifu had taught us to throw a backfist. The move loosened the knife. It flew into the darkness, landing with a clatter on the gravel.

Sir just laughed and reached both hands for my throat instead.

Then someone called from behind him. “Oh no you don’t!”

He turned. It was Jenny. I didn’t even have time to be relieved that she was still alive. As Sir got to his feet, his hands balled into fists. I struggled to get up.

Jenny held something in her right fist, and now she swung it at his face. He easily stepped back out of the way. She kept slicing it through the air, keeping him at bay. There was silence except for all our breathing and a patter like raindrops that left dark freckles on his face. It was blood being flung off the makeshift bandage on Jenny’s wrist.

“What’s that you got there, girl?” He laughed, and now I saw what it was. It was the spork. “Oh, Jenny, give me that.” He reached out a hand for it, just as she kicked him the way I had taught her in the RV. A scooping barefoot kick between his legs.

With a high-pitched scream, Sir curled over, his hands clutching himself.

But how long would he stay like that? Frantically, I scanned the ground for a weapon. Tangles of wires, molded pieces of metal and plastic and rubber, a seat from a car, a hubcap … And then I saw it. A rusted axle. I tried to pick it up with just my right hand, but it weighed at least thirty pounds. With a grunt, I grabbed it up with both hands.