If Sarah had known that the shower at the bartender's house was the last warm shower she was going to have for the next month, she would have taken more time with it. As it was, she spent enough time in there to rinse off the sticky stuff, let the laundry soap smell of his Dove soap permeate her skin, but did not touch her hair. Her hair was twisted into a professional-looking bun that would need a good washing in a day or so. She'd spritzed on an after shower spray she always carried in her Chanel travel bag, hung her towel on the hook, then crept quietly out of the stranger's bathroom.

Sarah Dinsworth prided herself on making her own decisions. Some were good decisions, like leaving Heath Alabama for the sparkling skyscrapers of New York City. Taking on that public service job for the past ten years to pay off her astronomical student debt while double dipping as a clerk in the chintzy PR firm with the park block views had been another good decision. Agreeing to take on one last client to prove both to herself and her future partners that she was the best of the best, Sarah shifted in her leather car seat as the cheap soap from the shower itched her delicate skin, maybe not worth it. "Cell service lost." Her car speakers said.

"For fuck's sake. What is the point of you, if you won't do the task you were designed for?" Sarah slammed her hand against the steering wheel, using up one of her six precious swear words she allowed herself on a business trip. She swore to god that tree looked like the one she had just passed twenty minutes ago. "Where the fuck is this place? This town cannot be that big."

"Cell service lost." The car said again.

"I heard you the first time, you cunt." Sarah's head throbbed. A gray cloud parted the monotonous sky, sending piercing yellow sunlight straight into her cornea. At this rate, she'd be out of swear words by lunch. Stealing that bartender's mediocre rum bottle, not her best decision. Going home with him instead of driving the extra hour and a half to the luxurious spa she'd booked on the coast, life changingly bad.

She leaned down to make the map on her phone larger, spreading her two fingers to see if she could read the road name she was on. She'd been looking for Main street as her turn off. Why the hell Main street didn't go through the middle of town was beyond her. She glanced up through her windshield, squinting to make sure the sun didn't blind her again when she spotted something in the road. "Goddammit!" She yelled as she jerked her wheel to the right to avoid hitting the small person trudging in the mud with the red backpack.

Of course, the tires of the rental vehicle squealed as they were pulled from their intended destination. Sarah gripped the wheel tight between her manicured claws as she looked where the vehicle's spin should take her away from the child. She bit her tongue as she spun the wheel again. The boys in the house she'd grown up in would have been proud that their getaway stunt car training was so bone deep in her that she didn't even break a sweat. The car shuddered as it pulled to a stop. Her tongue now throbbed as well as her eyeballs.

The kid stood where she'd last seen it, clutching the straps of its backpack, gaping at her through her passenger side window. Sarah rolled down the window. "You alright?"

The stunned kid bobbed her head rapidly.

"Didn't your momma tell you not to walk in the middle of the road?" Sarah drawled.

The kid's eyes darted around the empty road. This town probably didn't get enough cars driving through it in the morning for the kid to have ever needed that precious reminder. Sarah observed the kid through the open window. Messy long braid. Clean but obviously mended oversized clothes, nowhere near name brand. Green-yellow bruise on her cheekbone near her ear. Skinny colt-like limbs meant she couldn't be more than twelve. Sarah glanced at the clock on the dash that read 9:02. "You late for school?"

The kid shrugged.

Sarah sighed. "If you can tell me where to go, I'll drop you."

It was a testament to the smallness of this town that the kid didn't hesitate. She climbed into the stranger's vehicle, settling her backpack between her feet. Sarah waited while she carefully buckled her seatbelt and pointed the heaters so they blew the wisps not tucked into her braid back. "I'm Sarah." Sarah introduced herself.

"Jessica." The kid mumbled. "You keep going straight."

They approached a metal bridge crossing a swollen river. Just before the bridge, a sign read Main, so now Sarah knew how to get back to where she was going. She kept the car moving at a careful pace and her hands on 10 and 2. Having a child in her vehicle felt like she needed to be as careful as she'd been when she'd taken her driver's test the day she turned 16.

"Is there a turn at some point?" Sarah asked.

The kid rubbed her hands on her bent knees arranged hugging her backpack on the floor. She shook her head, so Sarah kept on driving. The clock on the dash ticked to 9:10. She began to wonder how this child had expected to get to school on-time walking. "What time does school start?" Sarah asked for lack of conversation.

"8:50. I missed the bus." The kid explained, her shoulders shrinking into her earlobes.

Sarah's spine tingled, observing this mousy figure out of the corner of her eye. The child's knuckles were raw and lined as if they belonged to a much older person. Her shirt sleeves were baggy, covering beyond the wrists. That bruise on her cheek, Sarah saw now, traveled beneath the collar of her shirt. Sarah's throat went dry. Her nails dug into her palms. She had to be very careful with the next thing she said. "You going to be in trouble if someone finds out you're late without an excuse?"

The kid cringed. "It's fine."

A sign appeared in the windshield, indicating the turn for the school was coming up. Sarah slowed her vehicle in preparation for the turn into what looked like a poorly graded entrance between unimproved road and freshly poured concrete.

Sarah had a very strong feeling that it wouldn't be, and while she didn't know this kid, she kinda did. She couldn't leave her like this, dropping her at the curb and hoping she'd be safe. It wasn't right. "I'll go in with you and come up with something."

The kid swiveled in her seat, regarding Sarah with rich brown eyes. Sarah pulled carefully into a parking spot and put on the emergency brake. "Lying's a sin." The kid said, unbuckling her seat belt. She could see the sparkling glass front doors of the school office.

"Then I won't ask you to commit it." Sarah said, unbuckling her own seat belt. "C'mon, get your bag."

The kid shrugged, but did what she was told. Sarah stepped outside of herself a moment to marvel at the fact that she was viewed as an adult with some authority over this child. It was not that long ago that Sarah had been this child's age. Sarah glanced down at her bejeweled pink finger nails she didn't hesitate to have refilled each month. She stamped her Aminah Abdul Jillil platform shoe that she'd spent a small fortune on because she loved the little black bow. Perhaps she hadn't been this girl's age in longer than she'd thought.

She followed the kid in through the front door of the building. "Good morning Jessica." Greeted a soft-spoken middle-aged woman with an obviously standard issue perm. "Your class is in the gymnasium at this moment."

"Please don't mark her tardy." Sarah began. "It was my fault she's late. I'm her auntie. And I missed the turnoff on the way here. We got terribly lost when we had to loop around because I couldn't find a place to turn around." Sarah batted her eyelashes convincingly.

The woman crossed her arms across her ample bosom as she regarded Sarah suspiciously. "Just which of Jessica's parents are you related to?"

Shit. Sarah may have needed to think this through before barreling in. She rolled her shoulders back, brightening her smile. It wasn't anything new to lie. Beside her, Jessica was scuffing her untied shoe. That kid could have prepared her in some way, Sarah thought uncharitably. But she'd promised she wouldn't have to commit a sin. "She's daddy's new girlfriend. We got to meet her last night." Jessica mumbled, surprising everyone.

Sarah swiveled her head at the kid, trying to hold on to the plastered-on smile even as she knew that the woman at the desk didn't believe either one of them. The secretary ran her eyes over Sarah's made up professional attire. "Your daddy attracted this lovely lady?"

Sarah cocked a hand on her hip. "We met online." Sarah said, doubling down. "He met all of my criteria. My very specific criteria."

The secretary narrowed her eyes at the two of them. Sarah and Jessica withstood the scrutiny. Jessica, with her gaze clearly pointed at the ground as any sixth grader would. She tightened the straps on her gray hoody so that it better covered her face. Sarah, looking at the woman straight on, clicked the back of her heel against the bright linoleum while she waited.

The secretary glanced at the fresh ceiling tiles. "Alrighty." She swiveled a clipboard toward Sarah. "Jessica, please hurry to meet your class." She nodded at the girl. As if somewhere a start button in her had been pressed, Jessica scrambled through the doors to the drab hallway and scurried out of sight. "Sign here. I haven't made the tardy phone calls yet, anyway."

Sarah nodded and began to fill in the boxes with her information. Something was eating at her, though. She paused before entering her phone number. A burning sensation was still clawing at the back of her throat. Sarah lifted the pen, then swiveled her head on her shoulders, willing the sensation away. The woman sighed, then tapped her own pen as if Sarah was keeping her from something important. The room was very quiet. Sarah wondered how many people this woman actually had to guard the school entry from on a daily basis. Probably the same amount who were on the road this morning.

Idly, Sarah read the name above hers on the sheet. Joey Johnson. Sounded made up. "Do you need assistance?" The woman asked. Sarah glanced up at the clock on the wall. 9:22. She'd been in this room longer than she'd thought. Sarah entered the time on the sheet, then let the pen fall onto the clipboard with a rattle.

The woman slid the clipboard away from her and silently began entering the information into the computer. Sarah turned to go. Her hand was on the cold metal door handle. The rain outside began. Sarah curled her fingers into her fist. It really wasn't any of her business, but, "Aren't you a mandatory reporter?" Sarah asked.

"I'm sorry?" The woman asked as if she hadn't heard. People in these positions often turned a blind-eye in Sarah's experience. Instead of not hearing, this woman didn't want to hear.

"A mandatory reporter. Does this state have mandatory reporter laws?" Sarah asked, gulping.

"This state? Who are you?" The woman only spared the energy to lift her eyes from her computer, not her entire head.

"A concerned citizen." Sarah shrugged. It was none of her business. It really wasn't. Sarah's palms chafed from the scrape of her fingernails earlier. It needed to be someone's business. Sarah faced the woman. Here she went. "That girl –"

But then the floor rippled. Sarah's beautifully balanced shoe slid out from under her. Sarah's calf muscles flexed, but standing upright was impossible when the floor was liquid. The glass doorway shattered. Instinctively, Sarah dove away from the shards, putting her beneath the secretary's very heavy desk. On her belly, the shaking made her teeth chatter. Sarah clenched her eyes shut. When she did, though, the sounds were awful. She heard snapping and clanking of metal on metal. She heard heavy rocks rolling like thunder. She heard terrified screams, a sizzling pop, and then the dark through her eyelids grew even darker and she knew all the power had shut down.

The woman huddled beside her made gasping, huffing noises. Sarah could feel the heat of her body beside her, not touching, but both clinging to the table leg of the underside of the desk. Beyond her shuttered eyelids, it sounded like an angry god was trying to tear the world apart, and doing an excellent job of it.