So when the next shelf toppled, Archie doubled back instead of going forward. The structures that had come down weren’t going to be moving anymore, so Archie worked his way into them, dropping his way through what were now empty spaces where crated goods used to be.

The overturned shelves also, ironically, offered greater protection from the Arrivals than he’d had before. He figured they could see him through the crisscross of metal bracing and shattered crates, but there was no way they could get at him this time.

Through the metal web of shelving, Archie could see, along a far wall, the meat department, with low, open refrigerated units filled with steaks and ground beef and chicken and sausage. Just beyond them was a wall of windows that looked into where all the butchering was done. There was a set of swing doors made of shiny aluminum. Archie believed if he could make it that far, the cars wouldn’t be able to get at him. And he further believed that back there, somewhere, would be a loading dock that led to the outside world.

He crept his way through the collapsed shelving until he reached open space in front of the meat department. One quick sprint would get him to the door.

Archie looked one way and then the other. He could hear tires squeaking. They were coming, but he couldn’t see any of them.

Archie was going for it.

He broke out into the open. An Arrival came turning out the end of an aisle so quickly two wheels briefly left the floor. It sped toward him.

It never had a chance. Archie bolted past the meat display, slammed into the double doors with such force that they swung inward as far as their hinges would allow and bounced back, nearly slapping Archie in the face.

That was when he tripped over the dead guy.

He’d stumbled over a heavyset man, sprawled out on his back, arms outstretched, his legs a mangled, bloody mess. He was wearing a large, white apron and a Discount Bonanza nametag that read stan.

Maybe Stan had been out in the main part of the store when he’d been struck by an Arrival. It would have taken a couple of people to drag him back this far, but when it was clear Stan was a goner, they’d abandoned him.

Archie threw up.

He dropped to his knees and vomited no more than two feet away from the dead butcher, and suddenly felt shame that he hadn’t managed to get farther away. Hadn’t the man suffered enough? Did he really deserve, even in death, to have puddled puke inches from his head?

Archie struggled to his feet and looked for a way out, threading his way through several sides of beef hanging from hooks.

And there it was. A loading dock.