Stiles wiped the katana blade on Larson’s scroungy coat and resheathed it, then went back to the counter and checked the almost-victim. The young man was just trying to sit up, and his eyes were spinning like pinwheels. “Are you okay?”

The kid blinked his eyes painfully, spat a tooth onto his lap. “I think so.” He grabbed for the counter for support and pulled himself up. “Jeez, what was . . .” and that was when he saw the body. He looked to Stiles and back, his mouth moving but unable to form words, then made a gagging sound in his throat and turned just in time to fill the trash basket behind the counter. “Oh, man, this ain’t happening . . .” he muttered, panting. He took another peek at the body and the retching continued.

“You sure you’re okay, kid?”

The boy looked up at him, trembling. “Wha . . . what are you gonna do?”

The soldier looked around. “Oh, I don’t know. I thought I might pick up a few things while I’m here. Do you mind?”

The boy laid a grocery sack on the counter and backed away. “Knock yourself out.”

Stiles wandered down one or two aisles, humming to himself and filling his bag with canned goods and candy bars. When he came back toward the register, he stopped for a moment at the tobacco display. “What the hell,” he said, signaling the end to another hunt by picking up two cartons of Vantage menthols. He took the time there to open a pack and light one up. “Nasty habit, huh?” he said, savoring the taste just the same. Then he sat the bag on the counter. “How much do I owe you?”

The boy backed away from the register. “Nothing, mister, nothing. It’s on the house.”

Stiles grinned. “Thanks a lot.” He picked up his groceries, stepped over Larson’s carcass, and went to the door. But he paused there a last time and turned to look at the boy. “You know what he was, don’t you?”

The kid gulped, nodded. “I think so.” He looked at the headless corpse again, stifling his nausea. “What should I do with him?”

The soldier shrugged. “I don’t think he’ll bother you. But then again, you can’t be too careful.” He motioned to the tobacco section, where the Red Devil lighter fluid lined the top shelf. Then he gave a smile and a wink. “Have a nice night.” And then he was gone, the door chime tinkling behind him.