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 Rose cowered under the rock outcropping, shivering from the soaking she’d gotten in the storm. She stripped off her outer shirt, pulling a replacement from her satchel. Her overalls were soaked to the knees. Dusk had settled, the evening quickly shifting to dark, and she had to find cover. Get home. Damn it. Damn. Caught out in the open. No excuse. Her hair dripped frigid water down the back of her collar, and she bent slightly, shaking her head like a dog.

She’d been distracted by the bright red in the flowers behind the rock she was huddled against. Oriental poppy. Amazing. Rare, in this neck of the woods, and easy to sell to the Heads. Yu-zhen will pay well for this. She packed the plants carefully into  her shoulder bag, mentally spending her potential income on rice, and maybe some socks.

The rain let up, and Rose glanced around the edge of her temporary shelter, wary of others moving about this late. Clear. About fifty yards to the link fence behind the city buildings, then back onstreet, to relative safety. Assuming she could avoid the patrol.

She stepped out, and heard the quick scuff of boot on rock above her, saw the blur of movement,  before feeling the blow to her face. Stars. Her jaw throbbed, eyes watering as the burn spread, then numbed.  She stumbled to her knees, holding her face, spitting blood.

“Look what’s come out after the rain, Stu. Ain’t she a tasty bit?”

Meathooks jumped down, gathered the back of her jacket, and lifted her to her feet, only to smash her to the ground again. Rose mouthed dirt and broken grass, as she cursed under her breath.  She felt a tooth dislodge, and her blood quickened.

“She don’t fight much, do she?” Dirty blonde hair swung in her sightline, framing her perspective on some rather large work boots.  She hoped they weren’t steel-toed.
Stu, the smaller of the two, knelt by her face and grinned into her furious gaze.

“She knows better, I’d wager.” He swiped his hands on his thighs, brushing off the soil. “This’ll be over soon, gal. Be nice to us, and we’ll be nice to you.”

Meathooks guffawed. Clapped his palms together. Rose knew the joke was on her. Damn it. Not too bright, but he knew a fun time when one crawled his way, broken and desperate.  Or, so he thought. She slipped her right hand into her pocket, palmed the ground with the other for leverage, and waited.

Stu probed her bag with a heavy hand, probably crushing her poppies in the process, and deemed it empty of valuable booty. He then worked down her body, groping over her slim hips, forcing his hand between her thighs, rough with his exploration.

They let up long enough to flip her face up, her breath whooshing out from the impact. Stu was on his knees, looking her over with eyes glazed, his slack, hollow face intent. Before Meathooks could refasten his grip, she whipped her foot up and over, cracking Stu across the face, hard enough to snap his head back. Before he slumped off his knees, Rose slipped her  7-inch clipped-point hunting knife from her pocket and rammed the blade through the top of Meathooks’ nearest shoe, to the handle, pinning his foot to the ground. Nope. Not steel-toed.

He shrieked, both hands outstretched, thick fingers waving like panicked sausages. Rose smirked at the image, her eyes glinting as she rose to her feet, and picked up her bag. Stu had finished crumpling, unconscious for the moment. Meathooks tugged at the knife embedded in his foot, sobbing to himself. She hated to leave the blade, but relished even less the idea of trying to get it back. Time to go, girl.

“Fuck you, you ugly bitch,” Meathooks growled, flinging foamy spit with  his blubbery lips. “I’m gonna get you, split you open. You fucki--”

Rose spat her loose tooth in his face, watched as it bounced to the wet earth.

“A little something for you,” She turned away, started walking. “Savor it, Lumpy. It’s all you’re getting.”

She squinted with her good