Priscilla Parker emerged from her home's bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, barely hiding her generous womanly features. She was dabbing a second, smaller towel at her wet hair when she flinched at the tapping on her bedroom window. A face practically pressed to the glass initially freaked her out, only to then panic her for reasons other than being spied upon while almost naked.

She hurried to the bedroom door, looking down the hallway, then -- seeing the coast clear -- rushed to the window and opened it, immediately asking in a soft growl, "What the fuck are you doing here, Frank. They're looking for you."

He told Priscilla what she needed to know at this very moment, leading to her standing tall and asking in a shocked tone, "Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Frank reassured her that he wasn't, offering her some more details. A man's voice from a distant room caused her yet [i]another[/i] freak out, and lifting a finger to Frank in a [i]wait[/i] gesture, she hurried to the open bedroom door and called, "I'll be right there. I'm just putting on something sexy for you."

Returning to the window, Priscilla told Frank the obvious, that she had a male guest -- he knew who it would be, of course -- and then demanded more details. He shared and she contemplated, and the decision was an easy one to make. 

"Keep outta sight so that he doesn't see you," she said, before slamming the window down again. She hurried across the room, dropped her towel without caring whether or not Frank was still looking through the glass, and slipped into a sleeping tee shirt. Again, responding to the man's call from another room, she hollered, "[i]Coming! Almost done.[/i]"

Then, pausing to look back at the window one last time before returning to her dresser, Priscilla opened the bottom drawer, dug down under some heavy, warm clothes, and pulled out an unsheathed and ominous looking hunting knife. She glanced one more time toward the window before heading toward the bedroom door with the knife behind her back.

She returned less than a minute later. The tee, her hands, and her face were fouled with blood. She headed straight for the window, opened it wide, and growled, "Get the fuck in here and tell me what the fuck is going through that whacked out brain of yours."

As Frank entered and talked, Priscilla headed for the bathroom yet again. Without closing the door and, again, not caring whether or not her [i]second[/i] male guest of the evening was getting an eyeful, she stripped out of the bloodied clothes, cleaned up, emerged naked, and [i]this[/i] time dressed in warm clothes suitable for sneaking around Greenburg in the dark. Once dressed, she began filling a backpack with things she thought she might need: extra clothes, the still bloody knife (though she [i]did[/i] wipe it off), and some [i]girly[/i] things from her bathroom.

"This is crazy, you know," she responded when she was finally ready to go. Yet, she smiled and said, "I'm in ...[i]however[/i] ... I have someone who has to go with us or I'm not going."

Priscilla didn't give Frank an option to discuss her [i]additions[/i] to the list of [i]escapees[/i], instead heading for the bedroom door as she said, "We can use the back."

As they emerged from the hallway into the living room, Frank would get his first look at Priscilla's handywork. Her male guest, the man who'd been forcing her to suck and fuck him in exchange for a choice position in the Construction Brigade, lay back on the couch with his throat cut open down to the bone.

Priscilla killed lights as she went -- her house was one of only a couple of dozen that the Militia allowed to have electricity 24/7 -- and by the time they reached the backdoor, they were standing in near darkness. She cracked the door, looked and listened, then asked, "I probably don't have to tell you to be quiet, right?"

She headed out, down the steps and concrete path to the back gate, and out into the alley that ran the length of the block to the last house on it. Circling around to the back door, Priscilla knocked lightly a couple of times before a light came on inside. The face of a woman in her teens or early 20s appeared, and after she'd determined that the person at the door was a friend, she hurried to it and opened it, asking, "What's wrong, Pris?"

Priscilla pushed her way in, gesturing Frank to follow as she said, "Beverly, this is Frank. He's a friend. Frank, Bev." To the other woman she said, "Go get Connor. Pack a bag, a backpack, something easy to carry a long ways, and be quick about it. We're getting out of here."

Beverly looked absolutely lost, and it took a minute of conversation between the two women before Priscilla had convinced the other female of the safety and sanity of what they were doing. As they were talking, Connor entered the kitchen and asked what was going on. Priscilla repeated what was necessary to get things rolling, then ushered them both toward the hallway that led to their bedrooms.

Five minutes later, the three of them were back in the kitchen again. Priscilla looked to Frank, demanding, "Explain [i]precisely[/i] how to get to that storm drain cover you were telling me about." To Beverly and Connor, she said, "Listen close. Go where he tells you, go down the drain, and stay at the bottom. We'll be there in an hour or so, maybe more, maybe less. But you [i]stay[/i] there. If we don't get back to you before sunrise, something went wrong. You sneak back here again and pretend this never happened, understand?"

Beverly began to ask, "But whaddaya mean if--"

"[i]Do you understand?[/i]" Priscilla cut her off. "If we don't get back to you by sunrise, something went wrong, and I don't want the two of you being punished for something that wasn't your idea in the first place ... got it?"

Beverly nodded, and Connor verbally agreed. Priscilla looked to Frank again and repeated, "Explain to them how to get to the storm drain. They'll be fine on their own while we go get the others."