I rolled out from beneath Cassius. He was upset now, his tail tucked between his legs. We ran through the dark aisles, heading for the rear of the building. Rocky clipped a grapefruit pyramid, sending the fruit rolling across the tiles. Being in here now was surreal, the aisles dark and empty.

We rushed through the swinging doors behind the butcher’s counter and through the car-wash curtain that never made any sense to me. The rear room, a concrete box rimmed with freezers, was cold enough that I could feel the chill coming up through my boots. Boxes and pallets and a broken meat grinder.

We doubled over, hands on our knees, breathing hard. It felt like when Coach Hanson made us run the mile during PE, screaming at us over her stopwatch, her face nearly as red as her Cardinals hat. I thought about her back there at the sliding doors, her broken leg stuck out to one side, not feeling the pain. Driven by a single focus: getting at us.

I shuddered, and it wasn’t from the cold.

Patrick put his hand on the dead bolt leading to the loading bay in back. Alex set her hand gently on his and said, “Don’t.”

He paused.

“The kids are too tired.” She gestured vaguely toward Rocky and JoJo. I realized I was standing behind them and hoped she wasn’t including me among “the kids.” She looked back at Patrick. “Give them a sec to catch their breath.”

A shattering sound carried across the aisles, followed with what sounded like bodies slapping the floor.

Patrick threw the dead bolt.

The loading bay was empty—whatever Hosts had been back here must have been drawn to the front. We jumped off the dock, landing on the asphalt. Patrick headed into the row of Dumpsters. We single-filed behind him, squeezing through the narrow space. Cassius scrambled to press into the side of my leg.

Patrick halted and held up his hand.

Ahead of him a shadow fell across the mouth of the makeshift alley between Dumpsters. I put my hand on Cassius’s back, willing him not to whine. The shadow tick-tocked back and forth, and a moment later a body crossed into the narrow view ahead.

Eddie Lu, one of the baggers, headed across the row of Dumpsters, his head angled toward the ground. Eddie graduated Creek’s Cause High last year. He still wore his hipster beanie and Piggly Wiggly apron. In front of me, JoJo opened her mouth, and I clamped my hand over it.

Eddie walked directly in front of us, never glancing over. He passed so close to Patrick that Patrick could’ve reached out and poked his shoulder. Eddie moved across our brief field of vision and disappeared. We heard his shoes scuff the ground as he made a sharp right angle at the corner of the Dumpster, and then his footsteps continued along the far side. We held our breath.