Page 55 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

I froze, my eyes snapping to Eddie’s, but he was already muting the drone and leaning forward.

Gabby moved without a word, crawling toward the front of the house like a shadow with elbows. She disappeared into the small storage nook by the door, and I could just make out the shapes of old cans and boxes being nudged around.

A moment later, the rank stench of rotting food hit us.

Eddie gagged quietly beside me. “What the?—”

Gabby returned, dragging herself low and fast across the floor, face a little pale.

“What was that?” I hissed.

“Out-of-date catfish chunks. Don’t ask, and I won't ask you why the shit your family have them in the first place.”

I gestured for her to stay down and led her toward the table where we’d stashed our weapons. Pressing my back to the wall, I reached up and pulled my sidearm free from its holster on the table’s underside. I clicked the safety off, ready for whatever happened.

Then I hummed a low, short note. Eddie tapped the floor five times in reply. I nodded uselessly, but it was instinctive. He'd picked up five people closing in on the drone.

The tension in my chest tightened as the doorknob creaked, then the front door swung open.

I exhaled and waited, finger tight on the trigger as two of them stepped inside. They moved fast, rifles slung low, their flashlights taped and angled like they’d done this before. The door clicked softly shut behind them, but we didn’t give them the chance to get far.

I lunged first, grabbing the front guy by the arm, and yanked him forward hard enough to slam him into the wall. Eddie dropped the second with a shoulder tackle that sent him sprawling onto the floor, his gun skittering away.

The fight was short, brutal, and as quiet as we could make it. I caught a punch to the side and drove my knee into the guy’s stomach, slamming his head against the floor to knock him out.

Across the room, Gabby was hissing through her teeth. One of the men had elbowed her in the ribs while Eddie was throwing him down. Before I could react and move her to another part of the room, she was already crawling out the back door. I swore under my breath as I punched the guy again, but I had to trust that she knew what she was doing.

Gabby

The night air slapped me in the face as I belly-crawled through the grass toward the stash of expired food I’d tucked under the porch weeks ago.

I cracked a can of something I had hoped was fish, gagged at the oily funk rolling out of it, and chucked it, along with the catfish chunks, straight into the bushes.

I grabbed another one, and then that can went flying, then another one followed it. Then, a fourth one landed with a wet plop on the grass.

I heard footsteps—heavy, hurried, and closing in fast. Each one pounded against the ground with purpose, growing louder with every second.

I reached down to my hip, curled my fingers around Tinkerbell—my compact pistol, sweet and deadly—and held my breath.

“They say it smells like something died out here,” one of them rumbled.

That’s because something did, probably multiple somethings, I thought grimly.

I ducked behind the porch wall just as a boot came down hard—right on my foot. I yelped, too quiet to carry, and looked up as one of the men’s eyes met mine. I didn’t think, I just acted as was the norm for me.

Cracking open another can of fish so rotten it could be classified as chemical warfare, I dumped it on him before he could register what his eyes were seeing. He howled and began gagging as he clawed at his face, and I took advantage of his distraction andshoved him off the edge of the porch. The behemoth sausage landed on his back with a loud thud and groan.

Then, the rustling started. Raccoons, at least three of them, eyes gleaming, shuffling out of the bushes like they’d been summoned. And they totally swarmed him. Not biting—yet—but swiping and scrambling for the fish.

“What the fuck—” the guy screamed, trying to fend them off. "Help! Rabies!"

I stood up and delivered a sharp kick to the side of his head, and he slumped out cold.

“You’re welcome,” I whispered to the raccoons, tossing one a Goldfish cracker from my pocket as a bonus.

Two other men rushed toward the noise and stopped when they saw the mess. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he hissed. “I told you we shouldn’t have brought him.”

They picked up the unconscious guy and shook him awake. “What the hell happened?”

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