Morning came gray and cold, the kind of April light that barely pushed through the clouds over the Front Range. Kane stood at the front window with a cup of cold coffee, looking out at the five bodies still sprawled in the yard and on the porch steps. The blood had dried black overnight. Flies were already starting to buzz around them even in the chill. He'd dragged the ones from inside out before dawn, then blocked the broken door and window with more sandbags and a couple of plywood scraps he'd nailed up in the dark. The house smelled like gunpowder and old blood now, no matter how many windows he cracked.
Liora sat at the kitchen table eating the last of the dry cereal straight from the box. Her messy auburn hair hung in her face, but she kept it tucked behind her ears while she watched him. She hadn't asked about the bodies again. She just ate in small handfuls, legs swinging under the chair like it was any other morning.
"We're low on a couple things," Kane said, turning from the window. "Water tabs are almost gone, and Mrs. Alvarez two doors down has that diabetic kid—little Miguel. She was out of insulin yesterday when I checked on her before the lights went out. I told her I'd try to find some if I could."
Liora nodded, spooning more cereal into her mouth. "Is Miguel okay?"
"He will be if we get him some. Pharmacy on Colfax might still have a few vials left in the fridge. We'll move quiet, grab what we can, and get back before it gets worse out there." He set the cup down. "You stay right behind me the whole time. No noise. Eyes open. Got it?"
"Got it," she said. Her voice was small but steady. She slid off the chair and went to pull on her hoodie and boots without being told twice.
Kane geared up light. Mk18 slung across his chest, suppressor on, spare magazines in the chest rig under his jacket. Glock on his hip. Ka-Bar on the other side. One small pack with room for whatever they found. He made Liora wear the bright orange safety vest he kept in the garage—turned inside out so it wasn't too visible, but bright enough he could spot her fast if they got separated. She didn't complain. She just zipped her hoodie over it and stood by the back door waiting.
They slipped out the rear, through the fence gate, and cut behind the row of houses instead of taking the street. The neighborhood felt wrong in the daylight. Doors hung open on some houses. A car sat sideways in the middle of the road with its windows smashed. Somewhere a dog was barking nonstop, hoarse and desperate. The air smelled like smoke from a fire a few blocks over and the faint sweet-rot starting to rise from the bodies they'd left behind.
Kane moved slow, rifle ready but low, checking every corner before they crossed a yard. Liora stayed glued to his back, small hand sometimes brushing the edge of his jacket like she needed the contact. They passed two houses with broken windows and didn't stop. At the third, Kane paused at the back door, listened, then eased it open. Empty. They found a couple unopened bottles of water and a half-full bag of rice in the pantry. He stuffed them in the pack.
"Keep moving," he whispered. "Pharmacy's another block and a half."
They kept going. The streets were too quiet. No cars. No voices. Just the crunch of broken glass under their boots and the occasional pop of distant gunfire that made Liora flinch every time. Kane kept his pace even, eyes sweeping rooftops and alleys. They passed a woman's body lying face-down on a lawn, purse dumped beside her. He steered Liora wide around it without saying anything. She didn't ask.
They reached the small strip mall two blocks over just as the clouds thinned enough for weak sunlight to hit the pavement. The pharmacy window was already shattered, shelves inside tipped over. Kane checked the front first—clear—then motioned Liora to wait behind a parked truck while he cleared the inside. Empty. He found three insulin pens in the broken fridge at the back, still cold. He grabbed them plus a bottle of antibiotics and some gauze packs that hadn't been looted yet. The cash register was smashed open and empty, but nobody had bothered with the medical stuff yet.
He stepped back outside and waved Liora over. "Got it. We head straight back. Stay close."
She nodded, eyes darting to the alley between the stores. "Daddy… do you hear that?"
Kane froze. At first it was just wind. Then it came again—sharp, high screams from the alley two blocks deeper into the neighborhood. A woman's voice, raw and terrified. "No—please—get off me!" Another voice joined it, younger, breaking on a sob. Male laughter cut through, ugly and close. At least six or seven guys by the sound of it.
Liora's small hand grabbed the back of his jacket. "They sound hurt."
Kane's jaw tightened. The pharmacy run was done. They had what they came for. The smart play was to turn around, slip back the way they came, and get behind sandbags before whoever was out there decided to spread wider. But the screams kept coming—pleading now, broken. One of the women cried out again, closer to a scream than words.
He looked down at Liora. Her hazel eyes were wide, freckles standing out pale. She wasn't asking him to go. She was just holding on, waiting to see what he'd do.
Kane checked the street both ways. Clear. He knelt quick so they were eye level. "Stay right behind me. No noise at all. If I say run, you run straight home and lock the back door. Understand?"
She nodded fast. "I understand."
He stood, rifle up, and started toward the alley at a low crouch, hugging the building line. Liora followed so close her boots almost touched his heels. The screams grew louder with every step—two women, terrified, begging. The men's voices were drunk on it, laughing, shoving. Glass broke. Someone slapped skin hard.
Kane reached the corner of the last building and eased his head around just enough to see. The alley opened into a small loading area behind the stores. Eight men—maybe more—had two young women backed against a dumpster. One guy had a shotgun. The rest carried knives, pipes, a couple of bats. The women were on their knees now, clothes already torn. One had long black hair with silver streaks, pale face streaked with tears and smudged makeup. The other was smaller, red hair in a messy braid, glasses crooked on her face. Both of them were shaking so hard they could barely hold themselves up.
The man with the shotgun grabbed a handful of the black-haired woman's hair and yanked her head back. "Shut up and hold still. Ain't nobody coming for you girls now."
The redhead let out another broken sob. "Please… we don't have anything…"
Kane pulled back behind the corner. His grip on the rifle was steady, but his pulse had kicked up. Liora pressed against his side, breathing fast and shallow.
He looked down at her once more. "Stay here. Don't move until I come back for you."
She nodded, small and serious, and crouched down behind a stack of empty crates.
Kane stepped out into the open, rifle already at his shoulder.
The first man saw him and started to raise the shotgun.
Kane didn't give him time to finish.