Page 1 of Pack to the Wall

JANE

“Mom! Milo’s lost it!”Izzy’s panicked voice echoed through the house as she burst through the front door. “He’s gone to talk to those bikers!”

My two kidsshouldhave been waiting for the school bus. I’d been about to head to work, purse in hand, when I’d heard the terrible roar of motorcycles rumbling up the street.

Dread twisted my gut.

“What—?” I gasped and rushed over to peek out the front door.

Milo flagged down the twenty or so bikers and boldly moved toward them as they stopped in front of my house.

Panic surged through me. My heart leaped into my throat as fear washed over me. Images flashed through my mind of the rough and unpredictable vagrants — who’d taken up residence in the forest at the far end of the street for the last couple months — roughing up my boy.

“What’s he thinking?” I breathed, my mind racing with worry. I couldn’t fathom why my thirteen-year-old baby would want to talk to those ruffians. It didn’t matter. I needed to keep my family safe.

With a mix of anxiety and determination, I reached into my purse and clenched the cold grip of the small gun I’d reluctantly bought. Violence and guns were never my preference, but the menacing presence of the bikers had backed me into a corner. My family’s safety was paramount, and I was willing to do whatever it took to protect them.

“Izzy, get inside! Hide in your room. Now!”

There was something hard in my voice, something that surprised even me. But my sixteen-year-old daughter listened to me for once and obeyed, disappearing down the hall.

I pulled the small gun out of my purse with a trembling hand. As much as I loathed these things, I’d made sure I knew how to use it before I’d left the store. I slid back the top piece to load a bullet from the clip into the chamber, then flipped off the safety. Shuddering out a long breath, I put it back in my purse and made my way outside on trembling legs.

“Milo!” I called across the front lawn, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fear swirling within me. “Get back here now!”

My little boy — okay, he wasn’t as little as he used to be since he’d grown almost half a foot over the last year — turned back to me. “Mom? No, it’s okay, I?—”

“Milo Arthur Myers. Get inside now!” I shouted, my voice sharp. My heart pounded, threatening to leap out of my chest.

The bikers laughed derisively. One of them shouted. “Yeah pup, run to your mommy!”

Milo didn’t move, and I couldn’t understand what he was doing, why he was so obsessed with this rowdy gang?

I reached him and quickly wrapped one arm around his wiry frame. He was tall, up to my chin now, but he was still my little boy. My grip on the gun tightened in my purse.

“Get inside!” I hissed, spinning us around and pushing him toward the house. Then I turned back to stand between him and those brutes, practically face to face with the bikers.

They were a rough lot with tattoos, muscles, and hard looks. There were several women among them, but the leaders were clearly four older men who had grey hair and stony glares. No, one wasn’t glaring. He was leering, eyeing me like a piece of meat and licking his lips.

With my free hand, I clasped my suit jacket closed over my blouse, though there wasn’t anything I could do to hide my calves, which were clearly visible below the knee-length skirt.

“Go!” I shouted at them, trying to muster all the courage I had left, hoping that would be enough to get them to leave. Inside, my heart raced, and adrenaline rushed through my veins.

I had no clue why they’d chosen our little dead-end street to take up residence. They’d roar in every evening — usually far too late — and park their bikes on the greenspace just off the closed loop of the street. Then they’d grab some gear and go camp in the forest. The next morning they’d ride out to cruise around Riverside or Shannondale, sometimes even Charles Town.

“Your boy’s a little too curious,” rumbled the lead biker, an older man with a scruffy beard and cold eyes.

Dear Lord! What had Milo done?

The biggest of the bikers, the one undressing me with his eyes, pulled his gaze from my legs up to where my hand disappeared into my purse. “What you got in there? Pepper spray?” he asked with a laugh.

Not quite,I thought.

“Just go!” I said, my voice trembling. “Please, stay away from my family.”Stay away from our neighborhood! Just leave and never come back!

But the leader kicked the stand of his bike down and turned off the rumbling engine. His three large cronies did the same. “We take what we want, when we want,” the leader said with growling intensity.

My pulse lurched and I took a step back, making the big one laugh.

---