Free Anonymity by Janna McMahan Page B

and kicked, struggling to free herself from the sleeping bag. Another hot poker pierced her skin. She screamed again and fought the confines of the fabric.
    Then, somehow, Mook was there, unzipping her sleeping bag, rolling her out onto the hard ground. Flashlight beams scraped the night. Mook cursed and crushed something under his boot.
    She shrieked and slapped hysterically at her hand.
    “Calm down.” Elda tried to wrap her arms around her. “It's gone. He killed it.”
    “Get it off! Get it off!” Lorelei screamed. The pain streaked up past her wrist. She swatted at her stinging arm.
    Mook grabbed her and gave her a solid shake. “Shit, girl. It's just a big bug. You're okay. Calm down.”
    Her terror broke and she came to her senses.
    “Look,” Mook said as he lifted a six-inch centipede with the end of his knife. He held the black bug out in front of him. Its yellow pinchers slowly opened and closed; a few of its many red legs twitched in agony.
    “Yuck,” Elda said.
    “Texas centipede,” he said. “Hurts like a mother, but it won't kill you.”
    “Unless you're allergic to bee stings,” Elda said. “You aren't allergic, are you?”
    “No,” Lorelei whimpered. “I don't think so.”
    “It was just looking for a little warmth.” Mook flung the bug into the woods. “We've all been stung by some big nasty Texas bug. Just be glad it wasn't a scorpion. Comes with the territory. You're official now.”
    He walked back into the lean-to. The others scanned around them before they lay down again.
    “You should go to the clinic in the morning,” Elda whispered. “Just to be safe.”
    Lorelei sat alone on a log for the rest of the night, holding her injured hand out in front of her. Tears rolled out of her for a long while after she had calmed down. She was embarrassed by her inability to regain full control, and she tried to be quiet so she wouldn't wake the others again.
    The pain settled in her arm and started a throb in her shoulder. She grew cold but couldn't bear to get inside her sleeping bag again. She rocked herself, weeping softly, as she waited for daybreak.

Barbara
    TEXAS HAD four seasons: drought, flood, blizzard and twister. Austin was usually horribly humid, but all of Central Texas had been parched for months and Barbara missed the sticky, moist air. This morning brought more clear skies, but the temperature had finally dropped to nonlethal.
    Barbara cranked up the air conditioning in her SUV and blended with the traffic flowing toward downtown. Her phone rang and she could see on her dashboard that it was one of her PR interns from UT. She hit the talk button on her steering column.
    “Hey, what's up?”
    “Are you on your way in?” the girl asked.
    “A few minutes out, but I've got to stop and set up something before I come in. Is everything under control?”
    “Yes, but they're driving me nuts dragging ass.”
    “Apparently, nonprofits move slow.” Barbara had been hired to manage Keep Austin Cleared, the city's annual litter clean-up program. “How's media looking? This is a one hundred percent positive client. We won't have any protestors or crisis management today, no angry letters to editors tomorrow.”
    “No media yet. Shouldn't they be here by now?”
    “They'll show. Give them another hour. Then we'll start making calls. How do the shirts look?”
    “It's a sea of green around here.”
    “I picked up another 10,000 cups. The logos are crisp this time. They look much better. I'm going to make the printer eat the cost for the first batch. Banner for the after-party?”
    “Got it.”
    “Can you handle things until I get there?”
    “No problem. People are trickling in, but it's still early.”
    “Call me if you need me.”
    Traffic was fierce on the tangled highway system. She cut around slow cars and old trucks filled with produce. As she waited for a light, Barbara couldn't help but read bumper stickers. It seemed the majority of vehicles in Austin were held