“Well, at least all those zombie apocalypse movies got something right.”
Shannon peered through Joe’s windshield at the Ralphs grocery store across the parking lot. The area between the Jeep and the store’s front door was packed with cars, some parked haphazardly in spots, others left in aisles with their hazard lights on. The honking was endless. A line of people extended out of the doorway of the store, where a single police officer was desperately trying to keep order. Two women were fighting over a shopping cart on the sidewalk, and as one yanked on the handle, another dropped a canvas bagful of fruit. A single melon rolled away down the asphalt and disappeared beneath the front tires of a pickup truck.
“Shannon, this isn’t the apocalypse.” Joe said, keeping his eyes trained on the apartment building that butted up against the grocery store parking lot. “And there are no zombies.”
“Yet,” Shannon added. But despite Joe’s assurances, what was happening in Los Angeles sure felt like the end of the world. It seemed like half the city had already fled from the earthquakes and skyrocketing heat. Schools and government buildings were closed (so much for senior year). The National Guard were on the scene with the LAPD, but they couldn’t be everywhere at once.
Shannon, Joe, and Merek were supposed to be staking out the apartment building in front of them. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the action in front of Ralphs.
“Whoa, did you see that woman get clocked in the face with a bag of frozen peas?”
“Shannon, if you really want to help, keep your eyes forward, not on the store.”
Shannon sighed and directed her attention to the grim, boxy apartment building they’d been watching for forty minutes, hoping to spot the member of an ancient cult who might have information on how to fix the (zombie-less) apocalypse.
“Still no movement,” Joe said, his eyes on a second-floor window of the building. “I’m going to check inside.”
“We’ll go with you,” Merek said from the backseat.
“I’d prefer if you stayed in here for now—”
Shannon started to protest, but Joe cut her off. “I’ll let you know if I need backup. But if I get up there and find more of what I’ve been finding at these Knights’ homes . . . there’s no need for you to see that.”
Shannon thought again of the dead man in his living room, the brown blood on the walls. She nodded, staying put as Joe got out of the car.
Merek sat back in his seat, wiping sweat from his forehead onto his shirt. “I never knew it was possible to be this hot.”
“Yeah,” Shannon said, lifting the ends of her hair off of her shoulders. Even with the air conditioner running, the inside of the Jeep was stifling. “Who knew saving the world would involve so much sitting around in our own sweat?”
The heat outside made Shannon feel tired and slow. Her thoughts were slow, her movements were slow . . . it was amazing she’d been able to sneak out of the garage fast enough to not get caught. Not that she had any idea of whether she’d be able to sneak back in—but that was a problem for later.
“What is that?” Merek asked, his voice suddenly sharp.
Shannon followed his gaze to one of the second-story windows of the apartment building. It had been shut and dark before, but now it was thrust open. A tall man in high-waisted jeans and tortoiseshell glasses began shimmying out of it, onto the balcony.
“That’s the apartment, right? What do you wanna bet that’s our Knight?” Shannon asked.
As she spoke, the tall man lifted one leg over the balcony ledge, gripping the railing with his hands.
“Holy crap, is he gonna—”
The man swung his other leg over the ledge, until he was hanging, his legs dangling in the air. He released his grip, dropping to the ground.
“—jump?”
Shannon and Merek exchanged a quick look before flinging their car doors open at the same time. Several feet away from them, the tall man had already started running away from the apartment building, toward the Ralphs.
“Follow him!” Shannon yelled as she pulled out her cell phone.
Merek took off after the man, Shannon running behind him. The man turned his head, saw he was being chased, and raced ahead. With one hand, Shannon called Joe.
“Shannon?” he asked, his voice echoing through the phone.
“He’s out here, Joe! He’s running!”
Ahead of her, the Knight dashed down the length of the Ralphs, dodging a tipped-over vending machine. As Merek neared him, the man jumped toward a loading dock door and flung it open, running inside and slamming the door behind him.
“Hurry!” Shannon yelled into the phone before hanging up.
Merek jumped toward the loading dock door, opening it again with a bang and racing inside. Shannon started to follow him, but then stopped in her tracks, her feet skidding against the concrete. If Merek was about ten seconds behind the Knight, the fleeing man might make it out the front door of the store before Merek could reach him. Shannon quickly doubled back toward the Ralphs’s entrance.
When she got closer to the main door, Shannon started pushing through the line of people waiting to get inside. Some hands reached out, grabbing at her clothes, pulling at her arm, but she slipped away before they could stop her.
“Hey, she’s cutting!” someone yelled to the cop. But he was busy pulling apart two men who were fighting over an open handicapped-parking space.
Shannon finally slipped inside, but if anything, the chaos was worse here. People raced past her, some with carts and baskets, others just filling bags as they went. They grabbed everything they could find—cans, packages, boxes of food—often without even looking at what they were taking. One woman reached out an arm and swept an entire shelf full of graham crackers into her cart before heading toward the checkout line that extended to the back of the store.
Shannon stopped, looking around for the Knight in the tortoiseshell glasses. But it was hard to spot any one person in this madhouse of panicked activity—like the most messed-up game of Where’s Waldo in the world. But then, Shannon heard a loud crashing noise and looked up to see the Knight barreling toward the glass door behind her. Merek skidded around a corner and ran after him. Shannon was dismayed to see, even from this far away, that the bandage over Merek’s collarbone was turning red. He must have reopened his cut in the chase.
“Hey!” Shannon yelled at the man. “We just want to talk to you!”
She positioned herself in front of the door, planting her feet on the ground.
The Knight raced toward her, past an overturned bin of browning daisies, past a man stacking his basket with batteries. People looked up as the running Knight passed, but none moved to stop him.
And then the running man was so close that Shannon could see the brown of his wide, panicked eyes behind those tortoiseshell glasses. Only one person stood between him and the exit.
And he wasn’t slowing down.
“Stop!” Shannon yelled, her heart racing. She put out both hands, as if they could stop this man before he collided into her, before he ran right through her.
But the Knight didn’t stop. He dropped one shoulder down low, and it took Shannon a moment to recognize the movement—one football players made before they bowled down an opponent—
The man smashed right into Shannon’s outstretched hands, hard, knocking her back and sideways into the metal edge of the store’s front door. She felt different points of her body connect with the metal—her head, her elbow, her hip. For a moment, her vision went red, then black. When full color returned, the man was gone, and Shannon was on the ground. Merek kneeled over her, his eyes wide.
“Are you hurt?”
Yes. Shannon didn’t even need to look herself over to know something was wrong. Not just where she’d hit the door, but where the Knight had hit her. He’d collided into her hands, snapping back her wrists, and now—
The pain in her right hand was sharp. When she tried to move it, she let out a cry.
Merek winced as he looked over Shannon’s hands. He didn’t even seem to notice that he was injured, too. He gently moved one of Shannon’s arms over his shoulders and heaved her up. There was no sign of the Knight at the door, and the police officer allowed a new group of people to enter the store, as if nothing had happened. One running man hadn’t been enough to catch his attention in this chaos.
“Did he get away?” Shannon squeaked.
Merek just grimaced, his eyes going dark as he glanced, quickly, over the heads of the crowd and out the door.
“Not for long.” His voice was steely, no trace of its usual sarcasm.
Shannon pulled her damaged wrist close to her body, whimpering every time it jostled. “Well, this’ll teach me to try to be an action hero.”
Merek’s eyebrow twitched. “You were brave to stand in his way like that. Stupid, possibly, but brave.”
The half compliment took Shannon off guard, and she barely knew how to respond. No one had ever called her brave before. She’d never thought of herself as brave before. And really, all she’d done was try to stand in someone’s way, and fail. “Um, thanks.”
“Just like Ripley,” Merek added. He looked back toward the parking lot before he could see the smile spreading across Shannon’s face.
Outside, it was impossible to see one man amid all the confusion. By the time Joe reached them, the Knight was completely gone, like he’d disappeared into thin air.