Deep Shadows by Vannetta Chapman Page B

watched the light ebb from his eyes, she’d known that it was real. This was their new life, whether they were prepared for it or not.
    Shelby had always been an adamant believer in the American dream, but in that second, two hundred years of social history was erased. Suddenly she was an immigrant, in a new and dangerous land, and she would need to find a way to protect herself, her friends, and the son who meant everything to her. She would need to find a way to survive.

S IXTEEN
    M ax and Patrick both stood and scanned the crowd.
    â€œDid anyone see how this started?”
    â€œI was sitting on my porch.” A young woman with a child on her hip stepped forward. She’d moved to the neighborhood recently, and Shelby couldn’t remember her name.
    â€œMr. Evans came out and said he was going to see if his car would start. When it did, he turned off the ignition and got out. That was when Rodney walked up and pulled a gun.”
    Mrs. Stinson, elderly and somewhat crippled, hobbled forward, pushing her walker between the onlookers and staring mournfully down at her neighbor.
    â€œDid you see anything?” Max asked her.
    She nodded, crossed herself, and said, “You all know I live next door. I heard them speaking, but it happened so quickly. I picked up my phone to dial 9-1-1, but by the time I remembered the phone didn’t work… by then you were here, trying to talk him out of his mad scheme.”
    â€œWhy would he do it?” Shelby asked, her voice trembling.
    â€œThat boy has been in trouble quite often the last few years. His mother—I don’t think she’s around much. Haven’t seen her at all since the aurora started.” Her hand, shaking and spotted with age, waved toward Harold Evans’s corpse. “Stubborn old fool. Why didn’t he hand over the keys? It was only a car, hardly worth his life.”
    An ambulance and a police cruiser soon arrived, and Max and Patrick explained all they had seen and learned from the witnesses. Shelby stoodnext to Bianca, watching the EMS personnel load Harold’s body into the ambulance. They also provided triage to the woman who had been injured. The first shot had grazed her arm.
    â€œI’ll have someone drive me to the hospital,” she assured the paramedic, now calmer, though her hands were still shaking. “You take Mr. Evans.”
    Shelby and Bianca were talking to the neighbors, well out of earshot when the officer said to Max, “This is the second one today.”
    â€œMurder?”
    â€œNo. Carjacking. The first was a middle-aged man passing through town. When he ran out of gas and found out he couldn’t buy any, he pulled a gun on a woman who had also stopped for fuel. Apparently she had half a tank and was hoping to top it off. The perp left his car, the fuel gauge on E .”
    â€œWas she hurt?”
    â€œNo. She grabbed her purse from the front seat and told him he could have the car.” The officer shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
    As the officer walked over to the young mother and old woman to take down their statements, Max wondered what the point was. The perpetrators of these crimes were long gone. What was the police department supposed to do? Chase them and use up what little fuel they had? Call ahead and warn the next town? The first would have been foolhardy, and the second impossible.
    Together Bianca, Shelby, Max, and Patrick walked back to her house.
    â€œAre you okay, Shelby?” Bianca reached for her hand.
    â€œIt’s a terrible thing to witness,” Patrick said.
    Like Max, his hands were stained with blood, but it was Shelby that Max was worried about. Patrick had seen combat—he would mentally and emotionally adjust to what had just happened. Though Bianca seemed shaken, she’d taken the events of the last hour in stride. Perhaps her mind was still on her parents. Shelby, on the other hand, was trying