Andy shifts, drops beside her, and narrows his gaze on the man Luna indicated. “Yep. That’s Adolfo, alright.”
We all crouch low to the ground, assessing the bokor’s men and their many zombified servants. There are close to ten enslaved workers to each one of the bokor’s henchmen.
“The plan, quickly,” Uncle Andy says.
“He’s at the edge of the field,” James says. Jeanna agrees with a yeah.
“I say we grab him and pull him into the cover of the crop, before any of the men notice,” I say. “Then we hall butt out of here before they become wise to his absence.”
Luna’s uncle nods twice to our suggestion.
“What if he yells?” Jeanna asks of Luna’s dad.
“He’s not going to yell,” Luna answers, then points to the workers being lined up. “Look at them. They are all but dead.”
“Right,” Jeanna agrees. “Silly of me to question.”
Agreeing on a course of action, we slide between the stalks of sugarcane, making our way closer to Luna’s dad. A few of the workers turn their gazes toward the higher standing crop but make no motions in our direction. I believe our presence goes undetected.
When we are as close as we can possibly get to Luna’s dad, while remaining hidden within the thick of growth, Luna cups her hands around her mouth and whispers to her dad. He shows no signs of hearing her, much less recognizing her voice or the call of his name.
Her uncle takes stock of the area beyond our hiding place, glancing left then right. “Have your magick ready, just in case.”
“What are you going to do?” Luna asks. But her question comes too late. Her uncle jets from cover, grabs his brother, and rushes back to where we wait. In one seamlessly flowing action, he runs at Luna’s father, grabs him, tosses him over his shoulder, and races back into the cover of the crops.
No one, other than the nabbed Mr. Flores, makes any unexpected motions.
Uncle Andy sets his brother on his feet in the middle of our circle.
“Zombie bite,” James exclaims.
“I can’t believe we did it,” Jeanna adds. “And unseen.”
My insides are twisting, tightening, and I glance toward the growing lineup of zombie-minded workers. My skin is prickling, prickling, prickling.
“Dad, it’s me, Luna.” Luna grabs her dad’s hands and begs for his recognition.
A whistle blows. I startle. Another whistle blows. We all spin toward the open field beyond our location. A third whistle blows, followed by shouts… and shouted orders.
“Oh, crap,” Luna says.
The bokor’s men study the wall of sugarcane concealing us. A moment later, they pivot and run toward the taller field, shouting and pointing in our general vicinity.
I spin toward Luna. “Get your dad to safety.” I toss her uncle a tight, meaningful stare. “We’ll hold back a bit so maybe they don’t notice you, but hold their attention on us. We’ll meet you at the car.”
“But,” Luna says. “I don’t want to…” her gaze locks on mine.
“Don’t question; just do it,” Jeanna orders.
Luna shifts her gaze between James, Jeanna, and me. I turn my attention to Luna’s uncle. “Get them out of here,” I say.
He glances over me and must decide that I am not one he wants to mess with. He tosses Mr. Flores over his shoulder once more and starts running through the sugarcane, back toward the car.
“Uncle Andy…” Luna calls.
“Don’t argue. Just go. Take care of your dad,” I blurt. “He’s the whole reason we came this far.” Luna stares at me, skims toward the rustle of her uncle, racing away from us. “Go,” I order.
Clear indecision bounces over her for a moment. Then she turns and dashes after her uncle and dad.
James, Jeanna, and I back away from the coming argument, back deeper into the shadowy cover of sugarcane stock.
“This isn’t good,” Jeanna murmurs.
“Remember,” I say. “We’ve got this.”
“Sure do,” James adds.
My attention bounces between the vanishing swoosh and crackle of Luna’s exit and the louder thump and trample of the approaching men. A shiver races across my skin, and the pungent fragrance of brown sugar twists my stomach into knots. I rub my arms against the falling temperature and then direct my friends with a point at an angle away from Luna’s departure.
“Come on,” I say. “The men are getting closer, and we want to get moving, camouflage the racket Luna and her uncle are making.” With a nod of agreeance, we run deeper into the crops.
We push and shove the tall stock to the side, allowing a wider berth through which to pass.
“This way,” someone at our back says, marking the location of the men in our pursuit.
“This is like a scene from a horror movie,” Jeanna says, keeping close at my back.
“As in Children of the Corn?” James wiggles between us. Jeanna nods. “Well, unlike all the unluckies in such flicks, I plan to get out of this situation unscathed.”
“We all are getting out of this unscathed.” I grab James’s arm, yanking him into a zig moving the opposite direction.
“What are you doing,” Jeanna asks, keeping close at our heels.
“Hopefully… confusing their pursuit.” I glance back at the army of sugarcane stock. In the not-so-far distance, the harvest shifts about wildly. They’re getting close. “You guys might want to get your magickal go-kits ready to use.”
“Crap. Crap. Crap,” Jeanna says and shoves a thick sugarcane plant to the side.
“Magick could be handy right now,” James says, a hint of breathlessness in his voice. “But fire may work best.”
“Fire?” I glance over my shoulder at him, and he is shaking a matchbook in the air. Brilliant. I slow to a stop, and they follow my lead. Huddle. “Do it,” I say, looking him straight in the eye. A wicked grin tugs firmly at his lips.
He spins to face the unseen danger weaving toward us through the thick of sugarcane. Jeanna and I flank his sides, stand a foot back.
“I feel so powerful.” He tugs
