"Froggie!" squeaked Jill.

"No!" I shouted, running around the corner of the house.

Ka-BOOM!

Damn it. I was too late. The blast caught me in the chest, blowing me back behind the house. Bits of dirt and rock - and probably little redheaded girl - sprayed all around, peppering my body. A large rock - I hope it was a rock - whacked me in the head on my way to the ground.

Damn it. I lay on my back and groaned, squinting up at the blazing sun. Fucking rebels, playing by their own rules. Sick bastards.

Now what? I needed to find another little six-year-old, and pronto. I had less than four hours to get a kid in that driver's seat, and now I was going to have to get past Sandra to get to the candidate pool. Granted, little Jill was no longer hungry or in pain, but try explaining that to her grieving mother.

My own hunger pangs had been crippling this morning, and that was before my impromptu rock shower and blow to the noggin. My forehead, just above my left eye, tickled with what I assumed was slick, dripping blood. That was going to leave a mark. The sky took on a hazy, reddish-gray quality, and I found I could barely keep my eyes open. I wondered if I could even crawl back to base. Maybe I should just lie here and die. Maybe that was better for everyone.

"No!" I grunted. That was a load of bullshit. It would be better for me, but that was selfish thinking. I rolled over onto my belly, and lightning bolts flashed through my head. Pain-induced nausea made my stomach convulse. Sadly, it had nothing to offer but a dribble of bitter bile. I lay, fighting blackness.

Who was I kidding? I was out of time. My last thought, as my arms collapsed and daylight faded entirely from my vision, was of the vibrant little redhead and her mother.