Young Adult Fiction
My mother might be dead, but she was still my mother. I knew that, even if my dad seemed to have forgotten.
The door opened and two guys with ski masks on walked in. One walked straight to me. The other went straight to Lacey at her register. As they approached, I saw the guns come up. Lacey, Cam and I froze. The room suddenly went dead quiet except for the sound of hamburgers sizzling in the back and the buzz of the overhead fluorescent lights. I'd never even noticed the hum of the fluorescent lights before.
The Whips, as silent as hunting cats, surrounded Blood Burrow in the hour before sun-up and began their sweep as the morning dogs began to howl. Their gray tunics turned black in the downpour, their helmets shone like beetle wings and the sparks that jumped from their fingers as they herded their recruits fizzed and spat like sewer gas.
