Fifty-Eight

Gia

My arm ached with the effort of hammering nails into wood. Our work was done. There was nothing more we could do. Now it was just a waiting game. I took a step backward to admire our handiwork; my hairline was saturated with sweat, and my fingers hurt. We secured every window and all but one exit, barricading us inside. Exhausted from the work, I mopped my brow with the back of my hand. There was only one way in and one way out, through the kitchen door. Throttle made sure that if there was a fire, we could all escape via the storage yard.

“Any sign of trouble?” Jenna asked, prompting me to squint through the cracks in the timber.

I peered up and down the roadside, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. “No. So far so good,” I replied.

The fight would have started by now. My stomach swirled with nerves, wishing there was some other way I could find out what was going on. Just like any illegal fight, they didn’t broadcast it on television or radio. Throttle disclosed that if this was