Free Never by K. D. Mcentire

the yard, yapping.
    An ambulance and a black van sat at the end of the driveway. Two paramedics were loading a gurney into the van. Two more were loading another into the ambulance.
    There was a matte body bag on the gurney.
    “Do you know who might be in the body bag?” Wendy asked Eddie. “You were here for weeks, can you see anything that you recognize?”
    “No,” he whispered. “But I recognize the one they loaded in the ambulance.” He buried his face in his hands. “I guess we know what happened to Emma now.”
    “No. This isn't happening,” Wendy said, gripping Piotr's hands so tightly her knuckles bled white. “Are you sure, Eddie? Lots of us have red hair, maybe it wasn't—”
    “It was,” Eddie said apologetically. “Sorry.”
    “But I never meant for Emma…I just…” Wendy whispered. Piotr squeezed her hand gently and then disentangled their fingers, taking Wendy by the shoulders and pulling her closer for a hug. “Emma wasn't supposed to get hurt,” she told him. “She's not like the others.”
    “It's a little late, Lightbringer,” Elle sneered, hands bunchedinto fists as she glared at the women gathered on the lawn. “In for a penny, and all that. So that miracle doctor of yours is down for the count. What's next?”
    “Shhh, Elle,” Wendy muttered, desperately trying to organize her thoughts. It was hard going; her mind kept replaying the sight of the bundled body being fed into the back of the black van. “Let me think.”
    Of the half-dozen or so women loitering in the yard, she recognized not a single person. Eddie, who'd spent more time with her extended family than she had, was luckier.
    “Hey,” he said, pointing out a young, plump woman in a pair of yellow pajamas smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk. “There's Annabelle.”
    “Jon,” Chel ordered, “park across the street.”
    “What? Are you mental? No!”
    Chel smacked her twin on the shoulder. “Park the car. We drove all this way. This opportunity goes nowhere, got it?”
    “What are you going to do?” Jon demanded, hands clenching and unclenching on the wheel. “March up to them and ask them to take you to their leader?”
    “Wendy goes nowhere until we find out who passed,” Chel hissed. “I'll make sure it's safe for her to talk to Nana Moses and while I'm at it I'll get the skinny on why the doc is down. Park the f'ing car, Poindexter. They've never seen me, it's safe for me to make nice.”
    “Whatever. Go ahead and try your braindead plan, see if it gets you nailed,” Jon snarled, pulling into the spot Chel indicated. “I'm too tired for this. Get out.”
    The door slammed and Wendy watched, guilty thoughts running crazy circles in her mind, as Chel approached Annabelle and plopped down on the sidewalk beside her. After a moment Annabelle shrugged and held out a hand. Chel pulled a thin silver flask out of her purse and took a swig, then handed the flask to Annabelle.
    “Go ahead, booze it up. Great idea,” Wendy grumbled, latching on to her annoyance like a life preserver. “I thought only alkies kept flasks in their purses.”
    “She quit everything else cold turkey, and we didn't know if you were gonna live or die in the hospital or what,” Jon growled, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes. “Wendy, just…lay off, okay? For once? Stop pushing everyone so hard. We're not you.”
    “Excuse me?” Wendy snapped. The surge of irritation was too much, and she knew she was vastly overreacting, but letting the anger pound through her kept her hands steady and sharpened her thoughts. “Dude, Dad thought I was the one with a drug problem. He thought I was the one with issues, thanks to her.”
    “Oh you have issues,” Jon replied, yawning and ignoring her quiet fury. He sagged in his seat suddenly, and looked lost. “Everyone in this family does. Yours just aren't the type that can be fed over-the-counter.” Wendy thought Jon glanced at Piotr in the rear view mirror as he said that,