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door, and waited.
    After a moment, a man’s voice came from inside the door “Who is it?” he called, but the door didn’t open.
    Adrian thought, There went the plan, wonder what she’ll do next .
    Racy called out in a loud voice, “Miss Lacy asked me to come fetch you. Seems we have a new girl for you, just got in today.”
    The door opened halfway, exposing most of Charley’s body.
    Bang, Bang, Bang, and Charlie fell across the threshold, half in and half out of the house.
    Bang, Bang, Bang, each shot making the dead man’s body jiggle a little from the bullet’s impact. Her first shot hit him in the stomach, the second in the chest and the third in the head as he fell. He was dead before he hit the floor.
    Then Racy started shouting and screaming at the body. She called him every kind of name that Adrian had heard and some he hadn’t. When she quit screaming she started kicking the body as viciously as she could. Adrian watched with concern. He didn’t want her to hurt her foot kicking it, and then not be able to walk. She would be something of a burden if that happened.
    It didn’t occur to him to think her behavior strange or odd, or even wrong. This man had raped her repeatedly, had raped her friends repeatedly. He deserved to die and she deserved to be the one to kill him. Venting her rage now seemed normal to him and he was going to let her vent until she was exhausted.
    It was what she needed. He respected that.
    But he didn’t want her to cripple herself either, so he looked around and found a shovel leaning against the fence. He took that and, grabbing her arm, put the shovel in her hands,
    “Hit him with this, save your feet for walking.”
    He stood back while she whaled on the body with the shovel. Eventually she slowed and then stopped, leaning on the shovel and taking great, rasping breaths.
    Four years ago this would have been unthinkable. Had it happened, it would have been an international news sensation. But four years ago was a long time ago, another world entirely. When electricity stopped so did everything else. No electricity meant no heat, no water, no food deliveries, money useless, and no fuel to run anything. Ninety-seven percent of Americans died in the first two years from starvation, disease and exposure. There were masses of suicides and murders as well. Those few that did survive had to be extremely tough, extremely adaptable, able to produce or procure their own food, ruthless in protecting themselves. This girl was a survivor, what she was doing now was hard, but right. Whether it would have been right four years ago is moot, fact is, it’s right for these times.
    “You done, or just taking a break?” Adrian asked in an amused voice.
    “I’m done.”
    “You sure? I don’t want to deprive you of any justice you got coming.”
    “Are you making fun of me?”
    “I don’t make fun of people that just killed a man in cold blood then beat the shit out of his corpse with a shovel. Making fun of people like that isn’t smart. But I am curious if you’re done so we can find the truck and get back to the girls. I don’t like leaving them alone this long.”
    “Okay, I’m done. Let’s find that truck. You look around for it; it has to be close by. I’ll look inside the house and see what he has worth taking.”
    “You have any more bullets for that pistol?”
    “No sir. I used them up and didn’t think to bring more.”
    “Take my pistol. You know how to use it?”
    She looked it over and said, “Yes sir, I do.” My daddy had one of these, a 1911 he called it. Taught me how to shoot it.
    “All right, take it, check out the house. I’ll find the truck and holler at you from the porch if you’re still inside.”
    Adrian found the truck in a carriage shed behind the house. It was a two-and-a-half ton. Adrian recognized it from his army days—they called it a deuce-and-a-half back then. It had a multi-fuel engine, which meant it could run on gasoline, diesel,