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Powell made no effort of his own.
    As the people spread around the hall, the officer kept his gun out in front, trying to cover the widening target, while backing up slowly toward the door. With Gary’s help, Powell rolled onto his back. He opened his eyes and brought a hand up to rub at the side of his jaw, and I let out the breath that had been caught in my throat.
    The preacher dropped down from the stage, and he and Gary helped Powell to his feet. When they let him alone, he staggered a few steps and took a knee. He shook off further attempts to help him up and leaned in to check Sean’s neck for a pulse. It took all three of them to lift Sean’s limp body and carry him to the stage.
    “Is he ...” I began.
    “He’s out, but he’s alive,” Powell said. He shot a glance at the girl cowering behind me and added, “We need to leave.”
    I held the fire exit door open while the three men carried the limp body of the fourth. Haley trailed after her father, and I ran to get the truck.
    The bloodied men lifted the bloodiest into the bed of the idling truck, and my heart sank; thoughts of my father’s body wrapped up in the back, now blended with the sight of Haley’s father. Haley and the preacher climbed into the truck, and the rest climbed in the back with Sean. Gary pounded a fist on the roof, and I put the truck in gear. As we pulled away from the church, there was a loud bang from inside, followed by two more in quick succession over the dull, sustained, and oscillating vowel sounds made by the little deaf girl as she cried.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    11 | A flock of wolves
     
    Gary’s voice rose to a bark. “I’m not going back there, and Powell’s got to look after Sean.”
    “There were children in there,” I said, unable to stay the emotion in my tone and on the verge of tears.
    “Those children have parents, and it was their parents that did that to Haley’s dad. You saw what they did to Sean, and Powell, and he was only trying to help. They were fighting over that little girl like she was meat. Now she’s gone, they’ve got nothing to fight over.” Gary glanced back and forth, from me to the preacher. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you expect us to do, or what we can do. I almost got my head caved in trying to break it up. You weren’t in there, they were dragging Haley around like a ragdoll and kicking at anything that was still moving, and now, at least one of them has a gun; we all heard it go off. Even if it was the cop who fired, there were more of them than there was of him.”
    My stomach churned around Gary’s words, and we each sat with our heads in our hands, staring at the floor or kitchen walls.
    Powell entered the kitchen and broke the silence. “He’s okay. Dazed and confused, maybe a couple broken ribs and probably a concussion, but it looks like he’ll be okay.”
    “How are you?” I asked in a hollow, defeated tone.
    Powell grimaced and shook his head. “We spent all that time trying to help, fixing things, and patching people up, just for them to turn on each other and tear it all down in minutes.”
    “It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better,” Gary said.
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “There’s been no food deliveries, nothing in for over a week; when the non-perishables run out, they’ll kill each other for what’s left,” he said.
    “These are normal people, regular people ...” I began.
    Gary laughed a joyless laugh. “You're fooling yourself if you think they’re all going to hold hands and share the crumbs.”
    I looked to the preacher for support, but he looked away.
    “What about the decent people? They’re not all as bad as you make them out,” I said.
    “The ones that don’t fight over the crumbs won’t get any. You saw what they were like over Haley, like wolves over a carcass,” Gary said.
    “I’ll go back, if I can use your truck, Emily,” the preacher said quietly.
    “And if you don’t come back, we’re