The lights are on in the convenience store, unlike in the parking lot, but there's no clerk. Marcie drags the stranger inside, lays him on a big welcome mat while Parker locks the doors and pushes the magazine display over to block them.

"He's bleeding bad."

"I'm gonna see if there's another door," Parker says, and runs towards the back.

She doesn't have to tear open the stranger's shirt: it's already in tatters. Four parallel gouges go from just below his Adam's apple down to his hip. She can see bone. "Parker…"

The lights in the store go out.


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