“Rub your arms. Hard. Get the blood moving.”
The scarred biker, recovering now, began directing the others.
“You heard the lady. Check fingers and toes. Blue means trouble.”
Evelyn shoved a dented soup pot onto the biggest burner.
“Who’s in charge?” she asked.
“I am,” the man replied. “Name’s Stone.”
“Stone,” she said firmly, “any diabetics? Heart problems? Missing medication?”
The question surprised him.
“Anthony… we call him Priest,” Stone said. “Diabetic. His insulin’s been rationed three days.”
“Three days?” Evelyn snapped. “You’ve been trapped out there that long?”
“Storm caught us in the mountain pass,” he said. “Bikes died. Phones died. Everything died.”
Continue on the next page:
