Strike by Delilah S. Dawson Page A

nowhere else to sit but in folding chairs. I count nine of us kids, and I sit as far as possible from the girl who just threatened to kill my dog. She’s tearing her biscuit into tiny shreds and swallowing each shred one by one. Everyone eats in silence, eyeing each other as we balance breakfast on the laps of brand-new jeans. No one speaks. Matty stays at my knee, tail wagging politely, but she doesn’t try to make friends. Because no one here is friendly.
    â€œGood morning!”
    Ugh. Heather. She’s extra perky and dressed in a velour camo tracksuit.
    â€œSo did everybody get everything they need at the store? And a good night’s sleep?”
    Dead silence.
    Heather’s big, glossy smile turns into a sneer, and she knocks the little blond sociopath’s plate to the ground and plants a foot in what’s left of her biscuit. “I asked you a question.”
    The girl looks up at her. “I’m not ‘everybody.’ ”
    â€œNo. You’re Beatrix Kiddo, according to your form. Do you really expect anyone to call you that?”
    A flat, reptile stare. “You can call me Bea.”
    Heather’s smile is sweet as poison. “Did you have a good night, Bea?”
    Bea’s mouth widens in something that seems like an alien pretending to smile. “Oh, yes. I was a good little do-bee. I used my card and bought all sorts of lovely things. I feel like a princess. Now, who is it you want me to kill?”
    Heather sighs. “No one. We’re not Valor. But we do have jobs for you. And we think you’ll actually find it pretty fun. First off, we’re going to do target practice today. Does anyone have experience with survival skills?”
    â€œConsidering we’re all alive after a week with Valor, yes,” Chance says, and everyone smothers their laughter because Heather looks like she’s going to have a tantrum.
    â€œCan you find water in the woods? Can you start a fire without matches? Can you forage food? Can you survive, alone, with no money and no way to get money? Because that’s where you’re going to be if Valor raids Crane Hollow. And most of you bought fancy tents that you can’t break down and throw on your back, so you’re going to need to know how to make shelter, too.”
    Wyatt gives me an apologetic look and a shrug. I elbow him in the side to let him know that there’s no way he could’ve anticipated the need to buy a smaller tent in case we became mountain men.
    â€œI thought this was a briefing,” Gabriela says. “I don’t feel briefed.”
    â€œI’m getting to it,” Heather snaps. “So, Crane Hollow. You have your tent. We provide food at meal times. You get one scheduled shower pass per week, so anything outside of that you’ll have to cover on your own. The line starts early for the downstairs bathroom and can get long. There’s a lake out back, or you can buy a solar shower or double up in the shower, if you have a buddy, so that you each get two showers. We’ve got porta-potties on the far side of the field, hidden in the trees. Don’t mess with the food animals. Don’t hunt squirrels on property. Don’t steal the eggs. Don’t steal from your neighbors or their tents, or they’re in their rights to shoot you. If we catch you stealing, we’ll shoot you. Don’t leave the compound unless you’re on a mission—”
    â€œDon’t leave the compound?” Gabriela says.
    Heather’s smile is so fucking patronizing. “We can’t have people screeching in and out of here all the time. It draws too much attention. That’s why there are guards. And they will take you down.”
    â€œFor the Citizens for Freedom, y’all don’t seem too big on freedom,” one of the other kids drawls, and I can tell by looking at him that he’s rich, or was. Or, at least, like Wyatt, his family pretended he