“Sprite, you all right?” the woman hollered, keeping her eyes and gun still on Scotty. It was Helen.

“There’s no time,” Sprite managed to say, but her yell lost steam half way through.

Helen looked over and realized Sprite was injured. She quickly grabbed Scotty by the shoulder, squeezing his nerve tight, and dragged him with her. He screamed, though whether it was the nerve or the bullet wound in his leg, it was hard to say which would be worse.

Sprite’s eyes blurred focus again. Her head fell, and she checked the watch.

41. 40. 39.

“There’s no time.”