40
I spot something on the wall near the row of TVs and change course. A fire alarm. I shatter the glass with my elbow and pull the handle. Lights flash. A shockingly loud siren blares. With a sharp hiss, water sprays down on us from the ceiling. People scream and begin running for the exit. The dad grabs one girl, the mom grabs the other, and they take off. Away from the guy with the shaved head and out the door. They might still get sick in the days to come, but maybe they’ll be among the lucky ones. For now, they’re safe. The man begins walking toward the exit, his smirk now replaced by a slight frown. I stalk toward him, moving quickly, and when I’m close enough, I bump into him, hard. His backpack falls to the ground, and I grab it, then dash behind the nearest row of shelves, heading
- Writer
