Sacrifices by Jamie Schultz Page B

houses.
Like firecrackers,
Anna thought. A moment later, a rapid burst answered, and a loud bang followed on the heels of that.
    Anna ducked into the nearest building, a carniceria with bars on the windows. Nail stayed right on her heels the whole time. Once inside, they both dropped to the floor. An odd peace came over her. There was the other shoe. She could stop waiting for it to drop.
    â€œShoulda come packing,” Nail said.
    â€œChill out, big guy. Be over in a minute.” She thought about popping up to have a look, then thought better of it. “Thought this was your thing.”
    â€œI like to be on the other end of the gun.”
    â€œNobody’s shooting at us.”
    â€œYet.”
    â€œJust chill,” she said. There had been no more shots. Maybe no more were forthcoming. Nonetheless, Nail didn’t move. Anna didn’t, either. Couldn’t hurt to give it a minute. She counted to a hundred without hearing another shot.
    â€œAll clear?” she asked.
    â€œThe fuck should I know? Can’t sit here forever, though.”
    Behind the counter, a Latino guy in an apron stood. Anna figured he’d know better than she would when it was safe to come out. She got up.
    â€œTodos los días,” the shopkeeper said, shaking his head.
    Anna gave him a tight-lipped smile of acknowledgment and walked to the door. Outside, hesitant movement hadresumed. A couple of scared kids—nine years old, at most—walked down the street, one wiping tears away. The group of teenagers at the corner did their best to appear tough and unfazed, but one of them paced nervously, constantly looking left and right. One of the others threw a rock at him and shouted something disparaging.
    â€œCome on,” Anna said. She went out.
    Normal street activity had already resumed. A couple of women chatted over a fence, and groups of middle school kids traveled in tight groups along the sidewalk.
    â€œThis business as usual down here?” Nail asked.
    â€œI don’t know. You hear what the butcher said? ‘Every day.’ It used to be bad, but not
that
bad. And the middle of the day, right when school lets out? Kids all over the street? I don’t remember that ever happening.”
    â€œEverything’s going to hell.”
    â€œYeah, maybe. I don’t know.” It bothered her, a disruption to the rhythm she’d thought she’d remembered. “Come on,” she said again.
    Another couple of blocks, another turn. They passed an elementary school surrounded by what seemed like miles of chain-link fence atop a brightly painted concrete base.
    â€œNo sirens,” Nail said.
    â€œPretty normal. They’ll get here when they get here.”
    She stopped halfway across the street, one foot planted and the other trailing to a halt with a gentle scrape, and pointed. “What is that?”
    â€œI don’t—oh.”
    â€œYeah.” The drawing on the corner of the building ahead was unmistakable. Anna didn’t know what it did—couldn’t, in fact, even hazard a guess—but she’d seen enough to know an occult diagram when she saw one. This one was in an oddly clear spot amid a tangle of graffiti, the arcs amazingly precise for spray paint. It was large, nearly as tall as she was, and wider than the span of her outstretched arms. She wished Genevieve were here to give her some idea of what it was all about. Gen would have names for all the bits—that star-shaped thing at the bottom,the thing on either side that looked like an evil smiley face if you squinted and cocked your head.
    â€œWish Tommy was here,” Nail said, giving voice to a slightly different version of her own sentiment.
    â€œMe, too.”
    A little girl and her mom walked past the drawing and across the street. Anna took that to mean it was safe enough. She and Nail continued the rest of the way across the street. She snapped a picture of the drawing with her