Sierra awoke to the searing sensation of open flames licking at her exposed skin. Her eyes snapped open, to reveal the wrecked interior of the tour bus around her. Much of the carpet and furniture had already caught fire, leaving only a narrow path for her to crawl out to safety lest she be completely engulfed. Everything hurt, her legs and arms ached with every inch forward she shuffled forth, but it was a simple choice between bearing the pain and burning to death.

The bus had fallen into the ditch on its side, and so the carpet she'd once been standing on now formed a burning wall she had to stay well clear of, while not falling through any of the broken windows. She made it to the shattered front windscreen, which now lay on the ground in a thousand broken pieces.

As she stepped out of the bus, that terrible burning sensation remained, and she turned in horror to see that the end of her hair had caught fire. Her beautiful, wonderfully long hair she spent years growing, that reached past her waist, now lighting up like the wick of a candle!

Lest it reach her scalp and boil her brains alive, she grabbed one of the glass shards off the ground. In a panic she hacked the huge braid off her head, winching as the glass dug into her palms. The whole mass of flaming hair fell away after some effort, leaving Sierra's locks now cut off around her chin level, and very haggard from the sloppy cutting.

The glass shard clattered to the ground as she hobbled away from the wreck, propping herself up against a tree to catch her breath. She could see why her Mom was always so careful to make sure she wasn't out on Purge Night. It was hell out here.

That's when she noticed she could hear voices. No, not the ones in her head that talked about how cute Cody was or where she'd hide the body of that girl she saw him with on the cover of Drogue magazine. Other people's voices, coming from behind the bus. Curious, she started creeping towards that direction. Was it the people who shot at them? Or maybe it was Cody and the rest of the Drama Brothers?

Fearful that it might be purgers come to comb over the wreck for victims, like vultures at the site of a kill, she looked for something to defend herself. On the ground, she spotted the gleam of iron, and realized it was the wrench she used to help fix the bus. Well, now all her hard work was a bonfire. She picked it up, consciously taking in the massive heft of it. A two pound chunk of steel, forged into what amounted to a club when it wasn't used as a tool for fixing things. It was better than being bare handed.

Now a bit better equipped to deal with any trouble that lay ahead, she continued forward. It became apparent there were two voices, one familiar and one not. The first was that of one of the managers, Mr. Garcia, but the other she couldn't quite place. It was gruff and masculine.

"We're done here." Said the unfamiliar voice.

"W-w-w-woah woah woah, wait wait! I-I can give you anything you want!" Garcia begged. "I-I can put you in touch with the producers, I can get you your own record deal, anything!"

"Sorry, but the CO wants no loose ends and we already have your friend if we wanna talk to your boss so…"

As she rounded the corner she saw the origin of the voice. One of those armed men, holding Garcia at gunpoint. He had a black bulletproof vest worn over dark blue fatigues with red trim pieces. On the back of his vest there was a large graphic of a viper's head.

Most sensible people, when seeing an armed man about to execute someone, would turn tail and flee for their own life. But Sierra didn't feel the urge to flee. She felt the urge to get in there and help. She barely knew this man but, if Cody trusted him as a manager then she had to do something! She rushed at him from behind, but she was too late to stop him from discharging the first few shots into Garcia's chest.

He was halfway through his magazine when he registered the sound of Sierra behind him and turned to face her, but she swung with her wrench and bashed him hard in the side of the head before he could get his gun on her. Dazed, the man staggered, kicking her away to open some space and bring his firearm to bear.

Sierra hit the ground on her back with a thud. She saw him bring his gun up. Thinking fast, she raised the wrench, just as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet caught the hardened steel at an angle and ricocheted off into the woods with a loud whizz. Before he could fire a follow up shot she hurled the wrench at him, and it struck him in the head with a loud clatter.

While he was still recovering from the hit she pushed herself off the ground and rushed to close the distance, tacking him to the ground. She grabbed his gun by the slide, and he instinctively gripped it tighter, trying to wrench it away from her so he could shoot. The gun went off, once, but the next few pulls of the trigger produced nothing but clicks. Jammed.

Realizing his weapon was useless, the soldier tossed it aside. He reached for his knife on his leg holster, but Sierra had already gone for it. She had just gotten it out of the sheath when he grabbed it, and now they wrestled for the blade. They rolled on the ground in a fretful struggle of life and death.

Sierra had the reach advantage with her long arms, but it did her no good this close in. She was ferociously strong, but he was better trained in hand to hand combat. He was dazed and disoriented from the two rapid head blows with the wrench, but despite this impairment he managed to get the knifeblade right up against her neck, and Sierra fought with frantic energy to keep that cold steel away from her jugular.

Then the soldier slipped, his grip faltered, or something happened. It all was too quick to register, but Sierra saw the opening, and headbutted him in the face. That turned his little slip into a big one, and she got control of the knife for a brief instant. She jammed the blade downwards instinctively, impaling him in the eye. The soldier let out a pained scream and dropped the knife entirely, his hands clawing at his mangled right eye. Sierra didn't hesitate to take the opportunity. She took the knife again in her hands and this time slashed open his neck. The man died a slow, gurgling death, and out of a sense of mercy Sierra drove the blade into his temple to try and put him down quicker.

She staggered back from her handiwork, horrified.

"Thanks…" Garcia's voice snapped her attention away from the carnage she had just wrought.

Seeing him laying there dying on the ground helped clear her conscious of any sudden guilt from the shock. Those gunshot wounds were all from her victim. If she hadn't won, he would have done the same to her.

"You okay?" She asked, running over and kneeling down beside Garcia.

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm afraid that bastard already did enough damage." Garcia sputtered, coughing up blood between his words.

"Who were those people? What did they want? Where's Cody?" Sierra asked frantically, searching his person for any kind of first aid.

"Those were the…extra security we hired. Mercenary group called…Viper. They were supposed to escort us to the safehouse but….looks like they turned on us instead."

"What happened to the band? What happened to Cody?"

"They…they took them…hostage. Don't know where but…" Garcia reached into his vest pocket and placed a keycard in Sierra's palm. "If anyone knows, it's Masterson. Find her and you might be able to get them….out of this mess…"

He let out one last sputter, before slumping over lifeless. Sierra looked down at the blood stained keycard, and the dead man's face staring back at her. She slipped it into her pocket. Now she pondered his words. Find Masterson? But how. She didn't see any of the other mercenaries or any clues as to where they might have gone.

Leaving Garcia's body on the cold hard ground like that filled Sierra with an unbearable sadness. She looked for something to cover him up, but the bus was now a funeral pyre. Eventually she settled for piling leaves on told of him, for it was Autumn and thousands littered the ground in every direction. It wasn't good but, she hoped that laying him to rest in some fashion might bring her and whatever next of kin he had some peace.

With that taken care of, her thoughts returned to survival, and finding the band. She went back to the dead soldier to search him for anything useful. Maybe he had a phone with a group chat that would tell her where it was? It seemed like a dumb idea but, Sierra couldn't think of any better leads. While searching him it occurred to her that, if she was going to find Cody, there would be more armed men like him waiting for her. He clothes were kevlar, and he did have a bulletproof vest on. She'd probably need that.

Pulling the belongings off a dead man really helped it sink in, just what she'd done. The fact she wasn't reacting badly to it scared her more than anything else. She'd just killed a man. Sure it was in self defense, she'd be dead on the ground if it weren't for a whole lot of luck come to think of it. But still, shouldn't she have been freaking out more? No. No she couldn't freak out. Cody needed her, and if she broke down nobody else would be there to save her. She had to stay strong now. For him.

While climbing into the dead man's clothes, his phone began to ring. Frantically she fished through his pockets to find the phone, then picked it up.

"Uh, hello?" She said in her best manly voice.

"Tango 5 Whiskey, are you there? We've secured the package and are extracting to the rally point, what's the status on cleanup, over?"

"Cleanup is uh, good. Things are very clean over here and looking….good. Over."

"Tango 5 Whiskey what the hell is going on? Why do you sound like that?"

"I uh…just a little congestion. No big deal. Everything's fine no need to be alarmed. Over."

"Listen, whoever you are, stay right there, don't fucking move. We're gonna kick your ass."

They hung up the phone. Sierra hurried to finish getting into that armor. It fit surprisingly well, only being a little short and wide for her but otherwise a perfect fit. The boots were a little big but, they would do fine in a pinch. She found the gun where he'd dropped it, but hadn't time to figure out how to clear the jam before a pair of headlights came around the corner on the road.

Sierra ducked into the woods as a black SUV with the Viper logo on the doors came to a stop on the road. Four mercenaries climbed out and began to search the area. As they approached she could hear their chatter in the night.

"Tango 4, get back there and turn the truck off."

"Negative copy on that Tango 2."

"Ugh, why?"

"It's cold out. I want to leave the heater running. Which idiot decided to set Canadian purge day in the fall anyways?"

"Yeah." One of his friends agreed. "First Thanksgiving, then Independence Day, and now Purge too? Who said they get to be different and special? I hate it."

"Take it up with the administrator. Let's just figure out what happened to Tango 5 and get the hell out of here."

Sierra's eyes darted between the squad, and their vehicle still left running on the roadside. If she could just get to it, she'd have a chance. She crept through the woods as quietly as she dared. She felt around for rock on the ground, and when she had one of sufficient size and heft she hurled it at a tree far enough away.

It struck with a loud thud, and the branches rustled. Loose leaves fluttered to the ground.

"Shit, I heard something." One of the mercenaries said.

"Let's check it out."

As they moved off in the wrong direction Sierra circled away from them and back towards the road. She was about halfway to the SUV, and closer to it than the mercs. She was almost in the clear, just a little further to go. Then, something happened. Maybe a light swung just the right way to highlight her, or she loudly stepped on a branch she didn't see. It all happened so quickly she didn't notice exactly what gave her away.

"Shit! Someone's over there!"

The crack of bullets whipping by her filled the air. Sierra ran as fast as she can, as the mercenaries impulsively fired into the shadow darting between trees. Sierra felt someone shove her in the shoulder, and she reached over her to strike at her assailant only to find nobody behind her.

She kept running. They chased her as fast as they could, but her deception had already put them badly out of position. She reached the SUV, and jumped into the driver's seat. She was so full of adrenaline she didn't even close the door before stomping the gas pedal. Only for the car to go nowhere because it was still in park. Gunfire ripped past her. She jammed the car into drive and stomped the pedal again. This time it took off. The wind and the inertia of the car lurching forward slammed the door shut.

Sierra didn't think about where she was going, she just drove. She drove until the sound of gunfire faded behind her, then ceased all together. A few very embarrassed mercenaries watched as a teenager drove off with their ride home, wondering how the hell they'd explain this to their commander without getting fired. For them, the night was over, but for Sierra things had only just begun.

The roads were empty around her. Nobody was dumb enough to be out driving in the purge. Not this far anyways. Sometimes, groups from the city would maraud through the countryside, but mostly they just stuck to terrorizing their own areas. Her route took her into a small town that was thoroughly locked down. Windows were barricaded, doors were barred. Some of the big fancy ranch homes had guards posted at the gates. They probably wouldn't help her. Private security in the Purge tended to be focused on helping only those who had hired them.

She found a small backroad with nobody around, and a driveway she could pull into. She put the car in park, and slumped back in the seat. In less than an hour she'd nearly died three times, and she'd killed a man. It had all come so fast she didn't have time to process, and now that she had a moment alone it was finally sinking in. The raw trauma of what she'd just done fought to pierce the impermeable barrier of sheer survival instincts that were driving her right now.

"I wanna go home…" She muttered quietly, rubbing her back where she'd been shoved. It was then that she found a small metallic lump lodged in the shoulder of her bulletproof vest. She'd been shot.

She stared down at the squashed chunk of copper and lead. She chucked it out the window, silently thanking her armor for doing its job.

She reached up to wipe the sweat off her forehead, only to hit the brim of a hat. Looking up into the rearview mirror, she saw it was the same hat she'd taken from Cody at the concert. Somehow, it had stayed with her, through the crash, the fight, and everything else she'd been through. Must have been a pretty lucky hat, she reckoned.

Before she could get even more lost in her own thoughts she felt the buzz of a phone at her hip. She checked the mercenaries phone that she took but, there was nothing new on that. Then she checked her own phone, and realized she had a new message from Bailey.

'U with Cody?'

Sierra grimaced. Her hands were shaking as she tapped out the reply.

'Totes. 3' she lied.

'How was ur first time? U 2 still doin it?'

'Amazing. Gonna have his babies.'

The response felt weird, and stilted. She'd talked so many times about having his children. She could rotate the babies she imagined they would have in her mind's eye. Yet here it felt ridiculous to even mention.

'Omg lucky. Grab some of Harold's tighty whiteys 4 me, k?'

'K'

She put her phone back in her pocket and buried her face in her hands. The text was a poignant reminder that The Drama Brothers were still out there. If she didn't act, she would never see them again. She fought down a storm of emotions, until she had some of her wits about her again. She couldn't let Cody down. Their wedding ceremony would not remain a distant fantasy if she had anything to say about it.

That was when she noticed the GPS on the center console of the SUV. It was active, and it had a route already plotted into it. Some destination, about twenty minutes away. Was that where they'd taken Cody?

Whatever it was, it was the best lead she'd found all night. She had to investigate.

Before going, she took the gun to see if she could unjam it. She'd played enough shooter games to know a Glock 17 when she saw one, the most generic pistol looking pistol to ever exist. After a bit of fiddling, she found the problem. An empty casing, still lodged in the chamber after the first shot failed to cycle. A quick rack of the slide and the problem was fixed, and she now had a live round ready to go. She tossed out the half-empty magazine and replaced it with a full one from the pouch on her vest. Now, at least, she could do something besides run or hope to rush down someone with a gun in melee. She'd never shot a real gun, despite all the hours sunk into Halo multiplayer and Fortnite, but if she were going to save Cody she knew she had to adapt.

As ready as she would ever be for the danger that lay ahead, she backed out of the driveway. She got back on the road again, following the GPS wherever it was taking her. She was going to find Cody, and she was going to get him back, whatever it took.