WELCOME TO SURVIVE THE NIGHT
Remember those twisty, page-flipping stories you read as a kid? The ones where you got to decide what happened next?
Well, this is like that — only darker. Bloodier. Scarier.
This is horror with choices.
Decisions with consequences.
A nightmare you might not make it out of alive.
You hold the fate of Marie and her friends in your hands. Every decision leads somewhere new. Some paths bring salvation. Others lead to damnation, … or worse.
Will Marie survive the night?
That's up to you.
Prolouge
The fluorescent lights at Value-Mart buzzed overhead, a dull hum that wormed its way into Marie's skull after an eight-hour shift. She pulled her blue vest tighter around her shoulders. The air conditioning had been cranked up to arctic levels again, despite it being October. The store manager insisted on running the AC like it was still the August heat wave, which was fine for him as he wasn't there. In the build up to Halloween, every aisle was filled with plastic pumpkins and overpriced candy, along with horror movie masks from the video rental section—Freddy Krueger's burned face grinning from every endcap,
Marie glanced at the digital clock above the customer service desk as it ticked over to 9:45 PM. Fifteen more minutes and another shift would be over. Eight months at Value-Mart already, and she still couldn't decide if the job was a stepping stone or a glimpse of her future. Her father kept pushing her to apply to colleges outside Westbrook, but Marie hadn't found the courage to imagine life beyond the town limits. Not yet, anyway. Sometimes she thought about filling out those applications, but then the fluorescent lights would buzz a little louder, the endless aisles would stretch a little further, and she'd find herself back at register four, scanning items, making exact change, saying "thank you for shopping at Value-Mart" with a smile that never quite convinced anyone.
The store was massive, with high ceilings that disappeared into shadows. Security shutters lined the front entrance and windows, installed after a string of robberies last year. During the day, you hardly noticed them. At night, especially when they came down at closing, they transformed the cheerful store into a veritable fortress.
"Attention, Value-Mart shoppers," Marie's own voice echoed over the PA system, sounding strange and detached. "The time is now 9:45. Value-Mart will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please bring your final selections to the registers."
She replaced the handset and surveyed the nearly empty store. Sunday nights were always dead, especially during football season. A few last-minute shoppers hurried through the aisles, grabbing forgotten items for Monday lunches and school projects.
Mrs. Davenport, who always showed up five minutes before closing, was carefully examining canned peaches like she was studying the fine print in a legal document. Marie had already told her three times they were on sale, three for two dollars.
"SunnyDay peaches," Mrs. Davenport murmured, her weathered finger tracing the cheerful logo with its cartoonish smiling face. “My favourite." Her fingernail began methodically scratching at the label, working away at the paper.
“I know, Mrs. Davenport, I know,” Marie had never quite figured out what to make of the old woman. "They're on sale, Mrs. Davenport. Three for two dollars."
"Yes, dear." Mrs. Davenport continued scratching at the label, seemingly entranced by the task. “My favourite.”
Marie shook her head and walked away. The elderly woman had been a fixture at Value-Mart for as long as Marie could remember. Always arriving just before closing, always buying the same items, always paying in exact change counted out with arthritic but precise fingers. Marie's father used to joke that Mrs. Davenport had been "old since the beginning of time," but he'd also mentioned once, after a few beers, that she'd been the first person to arrive at every crime scene he'd worked in thirty years on the force. Just watching, eating peaches straight out of the can.
"Last call, huh?"
Marie turned to find Jake Thornton leaning against her register, a single Powerball ticket in his hand. He was in her Advanced Placement History class, though they rarely spoke outside of school. His blue and gold Westbrook High jacket hung loosely on his lanky frame.
The automatic doors whispered open and closed behind a few departing customers, the sound oddly final as closing time approached. From the security desk, Richard Peterson watched the store with unsettling intensity. He'd only started that morning—a taciturn man who, so far as Marie could tell, hadn’t spoken a word to any of the other employees. He just stood and watched. His face was angular, his uniform a size too large, and when his gaze locked with Marie's, something cold slithered down her spine.
The television above switched to the lottery drawing. Marie wasn't paying much attention until Jake suddenly went silent mid-sentence. She looked up to see him staring at the screen, his ticket clutched in a white-knuckled grip.
"No way," he whispered. "No fucking way."
Marie followed his gaze to the screen where the announcer was repeating the numbers. She glanced at the ticket in Jake's hand.
"Did you—"
Jake let out a whoop that echoed through the entire store. "I WON! HOLY SHIT, I WON!" He grabbed Marie by the shoulders. "Five million dollars! I got all the numbers! Five! Million! Dollars!"
He was jumping up and down now, waving the ticket like a flag. "My dad's never going to believe this! He'll think I made the whole thing up! We'll be able to pay off the house, the medical bills—everything!"
The handful of people still in the store gathered around, examining Jake's ticket and congratulating him. An older man patted him on the back. "First round's on you, kid!"
Amid the excitement, Marie noticed Peterson watching from near the entrance. Something about the way he stared at Jake made her uncomfortable. In fact, his eyes never left the lottery ticket, like a hunter tracking movement in tall grass.
Liz from register three come over, eyeing the winning ticket too. For just a moment, something flashed across her face—something hard and cold before she plastered on a smile. "Wow, Jake. That's amazing," Liz said, her voice tight. "I played for six years. Every payday. Same numbers. 562-11-44-23-07." Her smile struggled to raise her cheeks. "Didn't miss a single week. Until three months ago."
Jake, too caught up in his celebration, just pulled her into a hug. "Tonight's my lucky night!" As he released her, Marie noticed Liz was repeating the sequence of numbers over and over: "562-11-44-23-07. 562-11-44-23-07. 562-11-44-23-07." When she caught Marie watching, Liz's hand dropped to her side, her smile brittle as glass. "Yeah," she said a little louder. "Lucky you."
Chapter 1 : Darkness Falls
The lights went out. The store plunged into darkness for three long seconds before the emergency system kicked in, bathing everything in a dim red glow. The electronic doors stopped their continuous open-close cycle. The low hum of the refrigeration units died with a sigh.
"Power outage," Marie said, though she'd never seen one that took out the main lights but left the emergency system running. "Don't worry, the generators will—"
A metallic screech interrupted her as the heavy security shutters began descending over the front entrance. Marie had only seen them used once, during a tornado warning last year.
"What's happening?" Jake asked, his celebration forgotten, lottery ticket still clutched in his hand.
"I don't know. Those shutters are only supposed to come down if—"
There was a crackle on the PA system and Marie looked up to see Peterson talking into his walkie talkie. "This is a security lockdown. Please remain calm and stay where you are. Security is gonna deal with y’all shortly." So, he can speak, she thought to herself.
Marie glanced around, her heart pounding. Something was very wrong. When she looked back at the guard's station Peterson was gone.
Jake clutched his winning lottery ticket, looking frantically between the blocked exits. "What the hell is going on?"
The emergency lights painted the store in a sickly red glow, transforming Value-Mart's familiar aisles into something from a fever dream. Marie pressed herself against the cold metal shelving, her heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her teeth.
The automatic doors at the front kept trying to open—whirr-CLANK, whirr-CLANK—revealing six-inch glimpses of the parking lot before hitting the ground again. It reminded Marie of a dying animal gasping for breath.
"This can't be happening," Jake whispered beside her. His lottery ticket was clutched in his fist, edges darkening with sweat. Five minutes earlier, he'd been jumping around like he'd scored the winning touchdown. Now his face had the waxy pallor of a corpse.
Through the chaos, Marie spotted Ted rushing to the front, his clipboard still clutched in his hand. "Everyone remain calm," he called out. "I know how to override this. Follow me to the manager's office."
Marie hesitated. The override system was in the security booth, not the office—Ted had said so himself, during the training session on her first day. But Ted was already leading a group away, and Marie guessed it wasn't her place to speak up.
Liz sidled up beside Jake, her eyes flicking between his face and the ticket in his hand. "Where are you going to keep that?" she asked, her voice oddly controlled despite the chaos. "If those shutters are down, we might be here a while."
"I don't know," Jake muttered, distracted by the growing panic around them.
"You should put it somewhere safe," Liz persisted. "Your jacket pocket isn't secure. Maybe I should put it in my register drawer? I can lock it….somewhere people wouldn't think to look?"
Marie gave Liz a curious look. "Why are you so worried about his ticket?"
Liz replied, as if the ticket should be the only thought on anyone's mind at that moment. "That right there is five million reasons for someone to—"
Then they heard the first gunshot.
If Marie and Jake decide to search the aisles for other survivors, go to [[Chapter 2]]
If Marie and Jake flee with the larger group toward the back of the store, go to [[Chapter 3]]Chapter 3 : Broken
Marie, Jake, and a handful of other customers sprint from the carnage in the entrance.
They burst into the store proper. A few others have gathered in a large customer restroom, its only door barricaded with a trash bin and mop bucket. Inside are Ted (store manager), Hector (quiet, imposing, mid-40s), Darren (brash, varsity jacket), Liz (observant, tense), and Kevin (twitchy electronics assistant).
Everyone’s shouting over each other. Some want to hide. Some want to run. Darren insists the attacker is hunting them, and hiding will be a death sentence. Hector says he knows what he’s doing and that the staffroom is the safest place — no windows, one door. Ted agrees with Hector. Liz mutters, “You guys do what you want,” and begins checking the floor plan leaflet on the wall.
“You know how to stop someone like this?” Darren demands.
“No,” Hector admits. “But I know how to keep people alive.”
“Not good enough,” Darren snaps.
Marie must choose whether to follow Darren’s doubt or Hector’s confidence.
If Marie sides with Hector and considers the staffroom, go to [[Chapter 6]]
If Marie sides with Darren and keeps options open, go to [[Chapter 7]] Chapter 4 : Good Thinking
The journey to Kevin's electronics desk felt like crossing a minefield. Every shadow could hide Peterson, every sound made them freeze in terror. Behind them, a distant scream echoed through the store—someone else's hope of escape cut brutally short.
"This is insane," Jake whispered, pressing himself against a display of televisions that advertised "Your Dreams Within Reach!" The irony wasn't lost on any of them. Nothing in Westbrook was ever within reach.
Kevin moved with surprising confidence through his domain, past shelves of devices that promised connection to a wider world most people here would never afford. "The display phones are locked up," he explained quietly, "but I have the keys. The phone should still have just enough power left for one call."
They weren't alone in electronics. Ray stood near the gaming section with Linda and Steve, all three looking more organised than the scattered, panicking survivors they'd left behind. Ray had found a crowbar from the hardware section, but he held it like a tool of purpose rather than desperate violence.
"Good thinking," Ray said when he spotted them, his voice carrying a natural authority that Marie hadn't noticed before. "Communication's smart. I was thinking we might try the loading dock, but backup plans never hurt."
Linda nodded eagerly. "Ray knows the delivery schedules. He thinks the morning truck drivers might—"
Another gunshot boomed through the store, closer this time. They all ducked instinctively.
The PA system crackled to life above them, making everyone freeze. Peterson's voice drifted through the speakers with mock professionalism: "Attention shoppers: we're currently experiencin' some spillage in housewares. Cleanup crew, best y’all bring extra mops."
The casual announcement about what was clearly blood sent chills through the group. Ray's grip tightened on his crowbar.
As they crouched behind the displays, Marie noticed something that made her question her sanity. Mrs. Davenport was calmly pushing her shopping cart through the electronics section, examining products with the same methodical care she always showed.
"Is that Mrs. Davenport?" Marie whispered to Jake.
The elderly woman paused at a display of tablets, picked one up, read the specifications on the box, then carefully placed it back. Her movements were unhurried, precise, as if she were comparison shopping rather than surviving a massacre.
"How is she even still alive?" Jake breathed.
Kevin followed their gaze, his expression shifting to clinical fascination. "Remarkable. Some individuals maintain established behavioural patterns even under extreme duress."
Mrs. Davenport continued her shopping expedition, the squeaking of her cart wheels oddly comforting in the chaos, before disappearing around a corner.
"Shit," Steve breathed. "He's working his way through the whole place."
Marie watched Kevin unlock the display case with steady hands. Too steady for someone who should be terrified. "You seem pretty calm for someone trapped in here with a killer," she observed.
"I've been thinking about this kind of situation for a while," Kevin replied, his voice taking on an oddly satisfied tone. "You learn to prepare when you've spent your whole life watching bullies get away with everything."
"Bullies?" Ray asked.
Kevin's hands paused over the phone components. "People who think they can just... take what they want. Hurt whoever they want. This whole town's full of them." He looked up with bright eyes. "But not anymore."
"I need the right components," Kevin continued. "Batteries, circuit board, soldering iron... you can build all sorts of useful things when you know what you're doing."
Ray stepped closer, studying Kevin with new interest. "Useful how?"
Kevin smiled. "Let's just say I've been learning about more than just customer service during my time here."
If they help Kevin gather what he needs for his "useful" project, go to [[Chapter 8]]
If they decide Ray's loading dock plan sounds safer, go to [[Chapter 9]]Chapter 5 : Taking Control
Marie hesitated, watching Kevin sort through electronic components with the focused intensity of someone building something far more complex than a simple phone call. There was something unsettling about his enthusiasm, especially when contrasted with Ray's practical, straightforward approach to escape.
"Look," Ray said, sensing her uncertainty, "I've been working construction in this town for eight years. I know every loading dock, every delivery schedule, every way in and out of these big box stores. The morning shift drivers start arriving at 5 AM—that's only six hours from now."
"If we're still alive in six hours," Steve muttered, flinching as another distant crash echoed through the store.
"We will be," Ray said with quiet confidence. "We just need to be smart about it. Stay together, stay quiet, wait for the right moment."
Kevin looked up from his work, irritation flashing across his face. "Or we could take control of the situation instead of just... hiding like scared animals."
"Control how?" Marie asked.
Kevin's smile was sharp. "This store is full of possibilities if you know what you're looking for. Cleaning supplies, garden chemicals, electronics, hardware..." He gestured around them. "Everything you need to level the playing field."
The casual way he said it made Marie's skin crawl. "Kevin, we're talking about calling for help, not—"
"Help?" Kevin's laugh was bitter. "Help from who? The same cops who never did anything when Darren Mitchell and his friends made my life hell? The same teachers who told me to 'just ignore them'? The same town that's been ignoring people like us our whole lives?"
Linda wrapped her arms around herself. "I just want to go home."
"Home to what?" Kevin asked, his voice getting louder. "Your dead-end job? Your parents asking when you're going to 'make something of yourself'? Your tiny apartment where you count every dollar and pray nothing breaks because you can't afford to fix it?"
The words hit too close to home for all of them. Marie thought of her unfilled college applications, Jake clutched his lottery ticket tighter, and even Ray's confident expression wavered.
"That's not the point," Marie said firmly. "We need to survive tonight first."
The PA system crackled overhead, interrupting their debate. Peterson's voice filled the electronics section with mock concern: "Attention shoppers: we're currently experiencin’ some spillage in housewares. Cleanup crew, best y’all bring extra mops."
The euphemistic announcement about what was clearly bloodshed made everyone go silent. Kevin's hands stilled over his components.
The casual cruelty in his tone made them all freeze. In the silence that followed, they could hear something being dragged across linoleum somewhere in the distance.
Through the gap between shelves, Marie caught sight of Mrs. Davenport wheeling her cart past the customer service desk. The elderly woman paused to examine a display of impulse-buy items near the registers, comparing prices on batteries and candy as if she had all the time in the world.
"Is she seriously still shopping?" Jake whispered in disbelief.
Mrs. Davenport selected a pack of gum, read the ingredients carefully, then placed it in her cart with the same methodical precision she always used. The normalcy of it was almost more unsettling than Peterson's threats.
"Fascinating," Kevin murmured, watching her through the shelving. "Complete dissociation from environmental stressors. It's actually quite remarkable from a psychological standpoint."
Mrs. Davenport continued her rounds, the squeaking of her cart wheels providing an oddly peaceful counterpoint to the distant sounds of Peterson's hunt.
Kevin's hands resumed their work with renewed purpose. "See? He's hunting us one by one. We can either be prey..." He held up a partially assembled device that definitely wasn't a phone. "Or we can hunt back."
Ray stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Kevin, whatever you're building there, put it down. We're not about becoming killers."
"Aren't we already?" Kevin asked quietly. "What do you think happens to people who never leave this place? What do you think we become?"
Marie realised she had to make a choice about how to proceed—stay and see what Kevin was really planning, or find a safer location away from his increasingly disturbing project.
If Marie decides to help Kevin with his project and see what he's really building, go to [[Chapter 8]]
If Marie suggests they find somewhere safer to hide while Kevin works, go to [[Chapter 9]] Chapter 6 : Frozen
Marie’s breath clouded in the frigid air of the freezer aisle. Frost clung to the metal racks and spilled milk glistened like ice across the tiles. Somewhere behind them, the fire alarm gave a half-hearted screech before sputtering out again. The silence that followed was worse.
Jake gripped her wrist as they moved, crouched low, weaving between toppled carts and shattered displays. Liz trailed behind them, her footsteps light despite the tension radiating off her like steam.
A metallic clang echoed from the bakery section. They froze.
Marie slowly raised her head and peered between the shelves.
A man stumbled into view — store uniform soaked with blood, one shoe missing. He clutched his side, fingers slick and trembling.
“Help…” he croaked, eyes unfocused.
Marie started forward, but Liz pulled her back. “Too late.”
The man swayed, legs buckling — and then his head snapped sideways. An axe buried itself deep in his neck, the blade humming from the force of the throw.
Jake clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a scream.
From the shadows emerged a man in a torn security uniform, fire axe dripping. He didn’t even check the body. Just walked past it like a butcher on his rounds.
Marie’s stomach twisted. “That’s the guard… the one who locked the doors.”
Liz shook her head. “No. That’s not a guard. That’s a killer wearing a uniform.”
They dropped to the floor as he passed just two aisles away, boots crunching over broken glass. They could hear his breathing — calm, methodical.
He paused, as if listening. Jake held his breath.
Then the footsteps resumed. Slow. Deliberate. Moving away.
They waited until the sound faded.
“Move,” Liz whispered.
They crept past the corpse — eyes open in frozen horror — and ducked into the adjacent aisle. The emergency lighting flickered. Somewhere far off, another scream cut short.
Marie notices something surreal in the adjacent housewares section. Mrs. Davenport is calmly pushing her shopping cart down the aisle, examining kitchen appliances with the same methodical attention she gives to everything.
"Is that Mrs. Davenport?" Jake whispers in disbelief.
Marie nods, watching as the elderly woman picks up a coffee maker, reads the features on the box, then carefully places it back on the shelf. Her movements are unhurried, precise, as if she's comparing prices rather than surviving a massacre.
"She doesn't seem scared at all," Marie observes.
Kevin follows their gaze, his expression shifting to one of clinical fascination. "Interesting. Some individuals maintain normal behavioural patterns even under extreme stress. It's a documented psychological phenomenon."
Mrs. Davenport continues her shopping expedition, the squeaking of her cart wheels providing an oddly comforting rhythm in the chaos. She rounds a corner and disappears from view, leaving Marie with more questions than answers.
They reached the back corridor where the restrooms were. The door was already ajar.
Voices. Murmurs. Someone crying softly.
Jake pushed it open slowly.
Inside, huddled against the walls and sitting atop the sinks, were half a dozen terrified people. A woman clutched a crying child. Hector was there, standing tall and calm, a quiet centre in the panic.
Marie exhaled, relief and dread twisting together.
She stepped inside. “We found others.”
If Marie sides with Ted and Hector to regroup and calm the survivors, go to [[Chapter 10]]
If Marie sides with Darren and the growing unrest in the room, go to [[Chapter 11]] Chapter 7 : Staff Only
The lights flickered overhead as Marie, Jake, and Liz ducked behind a promotional cardboard cutout of a smiling baby pushing a shopping trolley. Somewhere down the corridor behind them, a scream was cut short with a wet crunch.
Jake’s hand trembled on Marie’s arm. “Did you hear that?”
“Shhh,” Liz hissed. “Keep low.”
They crawled between toppled laundry baskets and scattered bedding sets. A can of carpet cleaner rolled past them, eerily slow, like the store itself was exhaling.
Marie peeked between a gap in the shelves — just in time to see two men sprinting across the tile floor near the Home section.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Those guys — they’re from Darren’s crew.”
Liz squinted. “They look panicked.”
One of them — maybe Benji — slipped and slammed into a stack of boxed slow cookers. A second later, he was on his feet, dragging his friend up by the collar.
Then a figure stepped calmly into frame behind them.
Marie’s blood ran cold.
It was the security guard. Peterson. Still dragging that shotgun.
No — not dragging it. Holding it like he knew exactly how to use it.
He raised it casually and pulled the trigger. One of the runners collapsed mid-stride, his chest a crater of blood and broken ribs. The other turned and screamed — and caught the second blast to the face.
Marie clamped a hand over her mouth.
Jake turned away, heaving dryly.
Liz didn’t flinch. “That’s no rent-a-cop.”
Peterson — or whoever he was — took his time checking the bodies. He knelt, looted a wallet, then straightened and walked off like nothing had happened.
Marie’s voice shook. “He’s not just killing people. He’s enjoying it.”
“No uniformed guard carries himself like that,” Liz said. “He’s playing dress-up.”
They crept backward, taking cover behind a shelf of discount cookware. A small TV was still playing a silent sales demo, the volume turned down.
Finally, they reached the corridor marked STAFF ONLY. A battered “Toilets Out of Order” sign hung lopsided over the doorway. Marie pushed through — and froze.
There were already people inside.
Huddled shapes. Whispered voices. Someone weeping into a coat.
And Hector. Standing calm among them, his eyes sharp.
Jake let out a breath of relief. “They made it.”
Marie stepped inside, heart thudding.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Marie notices something surreal in the adjacent housewares section. Mrs. Davenport is calmly pushing her shopping cart down the aisle, examining kitchen appliances with the same methodical attention she gives to everything.
"Is that Mrs. Davenport?" Jake whispers in disbelief.
Marie nods, watching as the elderly woman picks up a coffee maker, reads the features on the box, then carefully places it back on the shelf. Her movements are unhurried, precise, as if she's comparing prices rather than surviving a massacre.
"She doesn't seem scared at all," Marie observes.
Kevin follows their gaze, his expression shifting to one of clinical fascination. "Interesting. Some individuals maintain normal behavioural patterns even under extreme stress. It's a documented psychological phenomenon."
Mrs. Davenport continues her shopping expedition, the squeaking of her cart wheels providing an oddly comforting rhythm in the chaos. She rounds a corner and disappears from view, leaving Marie with more questions than answers.
If Marie joins Hector and Ted to help steady the group and come up with a plan, go to [[Chapter 10]]
If Marie listens to Darren and the angrier survivors demanding action, go to [[Chapter 11]] Chapter 8 : Kevin’s Toys
Marie made her decision. Despite her growing unease about Kevin's intentions, she needed to know what he was really building. "Okay, Kevin. Show us what you're working on."
Kevin's face lit up with an unsettling mixture of pride and excitement. "Finally, someone who gets it." He spread his components across the counter like a surgeon laying out instruments. "See, everyone thinks electronics are just for communication, entertainment. But when you really understand circuits, chemistry, pressure dynamics..."
Jake moved closer, still clutching his lottery ticket. "That doesn't look like any phone I've ever seen."
"Because it's not," Kevin said, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "It's a pressure-triggered warning system. Someone steps on the plate, it sends a signal." He held up a small device. "And then this activates."
"Activates what?" Marie asked, though she was beginning to suspect she didn't want to know.
Kevin reached into his bag and pulled out a container of cleaning fluid from the janitorial supplies. "Basic chemistry. Household cleaners, when mixed properly and given the right catalyst..." He shrugged casually. "Let's just say bullies tend to think twice when they realise the quiet kid knows how to make them hurt."
Ray stepped forward, his earlier confidence replaced by concern. "Kevin, what you're talking about—that's not self-defence. That's..."
"Justice," Kevin finished. "For every time someone like Darren shoved me into a locker. For every time someone like Peterson thought they could intimidate whoever they wanted." His eyes gleamed behind his glasses. "This town's been stepping on people like us for too long."
Linda backed away slowly. "This is crazy. You're talking about bombs."
"I'm talking about solutions," Kevin corrected. "About taking control instead of just... accepting whatever happens to us."
Another PA announcement crackled overhead: "Attention Value-Mart family. I've noticed some of y'all are tryin' to hide in groups. That's adorable. But you know what they say about safety in numbers—just means more targets in one place."
Peterson's voice sent chills through all of them, but Kevin seemed energised by it.
"See?" Kevin said, connecting another wire with practiced precision. "He thinks he's hunting us. But what if we're hunting him?"
Marie watched Kevin work, recognising the skill in his movements. This wasn't someone experimenting—this was someone who'd done this before. "Kevin, how long have you been building these things?"
"Long enough," Kevin replied without looking up. "Ever since I realised that people only respect you when they're afraid of you."
The device in his hands beeped softly. Ready.
If Marie tries to stop Kevin from setting up his trap, go to [[Chapter 12]]
If Marie decides Kevin might be their best chance against Peterson, go to [[Chapter 13]] Chapter 9 : Apex Predators
"Kevin, whatever you're building, maybe we should find somewhere safer first," Marie said, trying to keep her voice diplomatically neutral while backing away from his increasingly disturbing project.
Ray nodded approvingly. "Smart thinking. We're too exposed here in electronics. All these lights, all this open space—we're sitting ducks."
Kevin looked up from his components, annoyance flickering across his face. "Running away isn't going to solve anything. We need to take control of—"
"We need to survive," Marie interrupted firmly. "And that means not making ourselves easy targets."
Steve gestured toward the back of the store. "There's the employee break room. Smaller space, one door, easier to defend."
"Plus," Ray added, "it's closer to the loading dock. When morning comes, we'll have options."
Kevin reluctantly began packing his components back into his bag. "Fine. But we're just delaying the inevitable. Peterson's going to find us eventually, and when he does, we'll wish we'd prepared properly."
Linda shuddered at Kevin's matter-of-fact tone. "How can you be so calm about this?"
"Because I've been thinking about situations like this for years," Kevin replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Some of us have to think ahead when the world's full of predators."
They moved through the darkened store in single file, Ray leading with his crowbar ready, Marie and Jake in the middle, Kevin bringing up the rear. As they passed through housewares, Marie caught a glimpse of something that made her freeze.
An elderly woman—Mrs. Davenport from the store—was calmly pushing her shopping cart through the chaos, examining canned goods as if nothing unusual was happening.
"Mrs. Davenport?" Marie whispered in disbelief.
The old woman looked up placidly. "Oh, hello, sugar. Just doin' my weekly shoppin'. They've moved the peaches again—I can never find anything in this place."
Before Marie could respond, a shadow fell across the aisle. Peterson appeared at the far end, his imposing figure backlit by emergency lighting. Marie dived for cover and watched as he slowly walked towards the old lady. Instead of raising his weapon, he reached up to a high shelf and retrieved a can of SunnyDay peaches, handing it gently to Mrs. Davenport.
"Thank you, dear," she said pleasantly, as if being helped by a mass murderer was perfectly normal.
Peterson nodded wordlessly and continued on his way, ignoring the group of survivors completely.
"What the hell was that?" Jake breathed once Peterson disappeared.
Kevin was studying Mrs. Davenport with intense curiosity. "Fascinating. Even apex predators have behavioural patterns."
The old woman continued her shopping, humming softly to herself.
"Come on," Ray urged quietly. "Let's get to that break room before our luck runs out."
If Marie confronts Mrs. Davenport about what just happened, go to [[Chapter 12]]
If Marie follows Ray to safety and processes what she just witnessed, go to [[Chapter 13]] Chapter 10 : Taking Control
Marie shoved the restroom door open with her shoulder, stumbling inside as Jake skidded in behind her. The air inside was damp, sour with body heat, cheap hand soap, and the coppery trace of fear. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a sickly pallor on the huddled group already inside.
“Ted?” Marie gasped, recognising the assistant manager near the sinks, his shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to his chest.
He turned toward her with palpable relief—then tried to retake control, his voice cracking. “Everyone stay calm! We’re going to sit tight until the police arrive. That’s the plan.”
“Police aren’t coming,” Liz said from the corner, her voice dry and bitter. She was crouched on the baby changing table, picking at her nails like they weren’t in a nightmare. “Phones are dead. No signal. Place is in lockdown. And the guy outside is security. Or he was.”
Ted looked flustered. “We don’t know that yet.”
Marie’s voice sliced through the room. “I saw him kill a customer. With a fire axe. He smiled afterward.”
Gasps. Someone swore. Ted looked like a man trying to hold sand in his hands.
“Don’t panic,” he said, but no one listened.
“Panic?” Darren stood up from the toilet seat lid he’d been resting on. “Oh, we passed panic twenty minutes ago. This guy’s hunting us. I say we find something to fight with and go down swinging.”
“Yeah, that worked real well for the people I saw splattered all over frozen foods,” muttered someone near the sinks.
Kevin stood near the back, hands stuffed into the sleeves of his hoodie. He didn’t speak. Just watched. Quiet. Calculating.
Marie noticed Liz eyeing Kevin. “You okay, genius?”
Kevin didn’t blink. “Just counting how many vents there are in this room.”
That earned a few looks.
Hector was there too—sitting on the floor, arms resting over his knees, watching the whole thing like a soldier assessing a battlefield. He didn’t say much. Not yet. But when he did speak, everyone would listen.
Jake squeezed Marie’s hand. She leaned close and whispered, “We need a plan.”
He nodded. “But not from Ted.”
Ted tried again to assert himself. “Alright, alright, enough! I’m the ranking employee here and I say—”
Darren cut him off with a laugh. “Man, if job titles mattered, we wouldn’t all be shitting ourselves in a staff toilet.”
Laughter. Nervous. Angry. Real.
Ted sat down on a sanitary bin and buried his face in his hands.
The group was breaking apart. But somewhere in this chaos, a plan would form. It had to.
If Marie listens to Kevin’s quiet suggestion about electronics, go to [[Chapter 14]]
If Marie listens to Darren’s call to arms, go to [[Chapter 15]] Chapter 11 : Protocol
Marie pushed the door closed behind them and locked it with a trembling hand. Jake was wheezing, hunched over the sink. Liz leaned against the tiled wall like she was posing for a magazine cover — but her eyes were scanning every inch of the staff restroom like it might suddenly explode.
And then they realised they weren’t alone.
“Christ, more of them,” someone muttered.
Six people already filled the room. They looked like survivors from a shipwreck — pale, blood-flecked, some sitting on the floor with thousand-yard stares. A few of them had bloodstained aprons or smudged employee tags.
Ted, the assistant manager, stood up too fast. “Alright, alright, I’m still in charge here. This is a Value Mart emergency. We follow protocol—”
“No,” someone snapped. A wiry guy with a bandaged hand and a wild expression. “Protocol’s dead. Like Colin. You remember Colin, Ted? You said he was faking a head wound. He’s in three fucking pieces now.”
Ted’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Marie pressed herself between Jake and Liz. Jake was muttering to himself. Liz just looked annoyed. “I swear if this ends in a Lord of the Flies situation, I’m eating the middle manager first.”
Someone chuckled. Hector, in the corner, arms folded like a retired general observing a boardroom mutiny.
“I saw him,” Marie said, suddenly. “The security guard. He killed someone. Just—just chopped him down. Like it meant nothing.”
“Same guy’s been watching us for weeks,” said a woman with a shredded sleeve. “Nobody believed me. Said I was paranoid. Well? Where are they now?”
Hector raised a hand. “What we need now is a plan. One we all agree on, sí?”
Ted tried again. “I say we shelter in place and wait for morning. It’s safer—”
“No one’s coming,” Kevin interrupted from near the paper towel dispenser. He hadn’t spoken until now. “We’re cut off. They’ve blocked comms. No signal. No exit.”
Darren scoffed from the sink. “He talks like he’s in a movie.”
Kevin didn’t respond. Just stared at the flickering ceiling light, like he was running simulations in his head.
“Do we know how many are dead?” Marie asked.
Silence.
Then Hector, finally stepping forward: “We need ideas. Not panic. Not pecking orders. Just... something that might actually work, you know?”
All eyes drifted to Kevin. Then to Darren.
Marie could feel the ground shifting beneath her feet. The room was too small. The air too thick. If they didn’t act soon, they’d start turning on each other.
If Marie listens to Kevin’s quiet plan, go to [[Chapter 14]]
If Marie sides with Darren’s boldness, go to [[Chapter 15]]
Chapter 12 : What’s the Plan?
The group had found temporary refuge in the break room, but the tension was thick enough to cut. Kevin sat at the small table, sketching something on a napkin with a pen from his pocket.
"What if we could turn this place into a maze?" Kevin said quietly, looking up from his drawing. "I know how the store systems work. Emergency lighting, sprinkler systems, even some of the electronic displays. We could create... diversions. Maybe even traps."
Ray rolled his eyes from across the room. "Great. The nerd wants to play Home Alone." He gestured dismissively. "I wouldn't do anything this kid suggests. His dumb traps will kill all of us as easy as they would that psycho out there."
A few people chuckled nervously. Kevin's face flushed, and he looked down at his napkin.
Hector stepped forward, his voice calm but carrying natural authority. "Let's hear him out. Kevin knows this store better than any of us. That's valuable, no?”
"It's suicide," Ray countered. "We need real weapons, real plans. Not some electronics geek playing with wires and hoping for the best."
"Real plans like what?" Hector asked, genuinely curious rather than confrontational.
Ray straightened, sensing an opportunity to take charge. "Like hunting that bastard down before he picks us off one by one. Like taking control instead of hiding like scared rabbits."
The room split into murmurs of agreement and disagreement. Kevin quietly folded his napkin, tucking it into his pocket.
Hector nodded thoughtfully. "Both approaches have merit. But maybe we shouldn't put all our eggs in one basket, eh?”
Ray's jaw tightened. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning people should follow the plan they believe in." Hector's tone remained diplomatic, but there was steel underneath. "No one should be forced into something they don't trust."
Ray looked around the room, gauging support. Several people were nodding at his words about taking action. Others seemed more comfortable with Hector's cautious leadership.
"Fine," Ray said finally. "Anyone who wants to actually fight for their lives, come with me. The rest of you can play with the kid's toys."
Marie watched the group beginning to fracture, realising she'd have to choose.
If you think Marie and Jake should go with Ray's more aggressive approach, go to [[Chapter 16]]
If you think Marie and Jake should stay with Hector's group and help Kevin, go to [[Chapter 17]] Chapter 13 : Ray
The small group had moved to the electronics section, but the earlier split was still creating tension. Ray stood at the centre with his crowbar, his voice carrying that newfound authority.
"I'm telling you, we need to take real action," Ray insisted. "Sitting around waiting to die isn't a plan."
Hector remained by the wall, still holding his makeshift spear, watching Ray with those steady, measuring eyes.
"What kind of action?" Linda asked nervously.
"We arm ourselves properly. Hunt that psycho down before he gets us." Ray's eyes gleamed. "I know where the real weapons are. Hunting section, back of sporting goods."
"That's what Darren tried," Mitch pointed out. "Look how that worked out."
Ray's face darkened. "Darren was a fucking amateur. All muscle, no brains." He tapped his temple with the crowbar. "I've been thinking about this. Really thinking."
Hector spoke quietly. "Thinking about what, exactly?"
"About how to survive when everyone else is too chickenshit to do what needs doing." Ray stepped closer, using his height advantage. "Problem is, some people don't have the stomach for real survival."
"Survival," Hector repeated. "Or revenge?"
Ray's grip tightened on the crowbar. "You think you can judge me, old man? You think you know what it takes?"
"I think fear makes people do terrible things. And you're very afraid, amigo.”
The humiliation burned through Ray—not just from tonight, but from every slight, every dismissal, every time someone had looked through him.
"Fuck this," Ray snarled. "Anyone with balls enough to actually survive, follow me."
Several people stood to join him, but Marie hesitated, torn between the approaches.
If you think Marie and Jake should join Ray's splinter group, go to [[Chapter 17]]
If you think Marie and Jake should stay with Hector, Kevin and Liz, go to [[Chapter 16]]
Chapter 14 : A Real Stinker
The atmosphere in the staff restroom was thick with unease. The stench of sweat, fear, and a clogged toilet choked the air.
“Hector, I asked you to unblock that thing two hours ago,” said Ted.
“And I told you, that isn’t my job, Ted.”
“It is—
“A giant turd don’t mean shit right now,” said Darren. "Quieten down. I need to think."
"We don't have enough time for that," grumbled Liz.
People sat in hunched silence on overturned mop buckets and leaned against cracked tiles with glazed expressions. Every so often, someone would flinch at a noise in the distance, some phantom clang or echoing footstep that might have been nothing — or everything. And then, the distinctive sound of a bullet and scream.
Marie sat beside Jake near the door, hugging her knees. The adrenaline from the chaos earlier was starting to fade, leaving only a sickly nausea in its wake. Jake, too, was pale and shaky, clutching a bloodied golf club like it was a lifeline.
"Has anyone seen a working phone?" asked Ted. "The ones in the offices are all dead."
"There's a payphone by the front entrance," said Jake. "But that's where all the shooting started."
“Surely you got a break room phone?" asked Darren.
“Yes,” replied Marie. “There’s also one in the security office, and another in the manager's office.”
“The customer service desk also has two lines,” added Liz.
Hector shook his head grimly. "If someone cut the line at the access point, all the phones in the building will be dead. They all run through the same trunk line from the street."
"So we're screwed," Darren muttered.
"Not quite true," said Kevin quietly.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Kevin appeared beside Marie like a whisper, pulling her and Jake gently to one side. "There's an expensive phone in Electronics," he whispered. "A DynaTAC - worth about four thousand dollars. It's kept charged for customer demonstrations. That one doesn't need to be connected to the building's phone lines—it has its own aerial, transmits directly to the cell towers. Cutting the wires shut off all the landlines, but it won't have shut off that one."
Marie blinked at him, her mind still buzzing. "Would it even work?"
Kevin glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "Sure, it's just..."
"Just what?" whispered Jake.
"Just that electronics is on the other side of the store too," replied Marie.
"But," interrupted Kevin, pulling a crumpled napkin from his back pocket. On it, scrawled in pencil and smudged graphite, was a crude floor plan of the store. He pointed at it with a shaking finger. "Security cameras aren't all working. Only some of them are hooked up to the backup generator. From memory, the ones with views of these aisles," He traced his finger across the map, "are all out of action now. If he's watching the monitors, he won't see us."
"What if he's not watching the monitors?" asked Marie. "What if he's walking the aisles? If he catches us, what then?"
Kevin’s expression didn’t waver. He looked directly at her. "Do you want to die waiting in a toilet stall?"
Liz sauntered into earshot, arms crossed. Her apron was streaked with something brownish that looked an awful lot like dried blood. She cocked her head. "You planning on sneaking away, genius?"
Kevin didn't even flinch. "I've got a plan. Just need time and a little room to work."
Liz snorted. "Yeah, I heard your plan. Call the cops from some fancy phone. Lucky you’ve never been able to sell it.”
"Yeah," Kevin snapped back. “Lucky you.”
Jake touched her arm. "He's not wrong. We can’t just sit here. Sooner or later, that psycho's going to find us. And there’s only one entrance to this room. One way in. One way out. We'll be fish in a barrel."
Ted scoffed from the corner, where he sat nursing a bruised shoulder. "Great. Let's all go play nerd games with Kevin while a murderer is hunting us."
Kevin turned to Marie. "I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking if you want a chance to survive. That's all."
Jake stood up. "I'm in."
Marie looked around. Darren's group was buzzing in one corner, slapping each other's shoulders and geeing themselves up for war.
“Enough with the science fair crap!” he shouted. “You all saw what that freak did. We’ve got to hit back now.”
Liz folded her arms. “And what exactly is your master plan? Throw mannequins at him until he gets bored?”
“No,” Darren said, 'We head to sporting goods, like I said. Hockey sticks, bats, helmets. Pads. We gear up, we go in. And we end this.”
Kevin shook his head. “He’s got a gun. You won’t even make it out of the aisle.”
“He doesn’t know we’re coming,” Darren growled. “He thinks we’re scared. And if we sit around building science projects, he’ll pick us off one by one.”
"Shit, Kevin's right," said Ted, the deputy store manager. "The sports section is open and exposed, he'll have free shots t all of us. But we got a new shipment of sports equipment in on Friday. Hasn't been put out on the floor yet. It's in the storeroom out back. Maybe we can go for those instead."
"Okay," added Darren, "What tie-guy just said. Lets roll, people, I ain't getting any older."
"You mean younger," said Kevin with a sigh."
"What? Shut up dweeb."
Hector stepped into the middle of the room, voice calm but firm. "Alright," he said. "Enough talk. Anyone not on board with Darren's attack plan, just make sure you don't stay here. This room won't be safe much longer. He's going to check it eventually, sí?”
“I’m going to Electronics, no matter what,” said Kevin with determination.
Marie’s thoughts swirled. Both plans had holes. Both plans meant blood. But if she didn’t choose one soon, someone else would do it for her.
She had a choice to make.
If Marie sides with Darren’s aggression, go to [[Chapter 18]]
If Marie chooses Kevin’s signal plan instead, go to [[Chapter 19]] Chapter 15 : Best Shot
The fluorescent light in the back hallway buzzed faintly, flickering just enough to fray everyone’s nerves. The group had gathered, breathless and desperate, the stench of sweat and blood clinging to them. No one spoke until Kevin stepped forward, holding a small bundle wrapped in his hoodie.
"I've got a plan," he said, "There's a DynaTAC demonstration phone in Electronics.”
“What the hell is a dinosaur demonstration phone?” Muttered Darren.
“DynoTAC,” corrected Kevin. “It’s a mobile phone. It means you can walk around with it and it works anywhere. Basically, it’s not connected to a landline, it has it’s own antenna, so when Peterson cut all the phones, he didn’t cut that one.”
“Will it work?” Asked Marie.
“Should do. We charge it every night just in case a customer wants to try it out. It was only used twice today, so if I can get to it, it might still have enough power for one call, I think.
"We don't care about the details," interrupted Darren. "Get on with it."
“The thing is, it's expensive as hell, so it's locked in the secure display case. It's okay though, I have a key in my desk drawer. I just need to unlock the case and we should be good to go."
"Oh my, fucking God." Darren was getting really frustrated.
"Sorry, sorry. Okay, let’s go.”
Darren snorted. “Wait a minute. You dweebs aren’t actually gonna go along with this plan? You really think nerd-boy here is gonna tech all to freedom?”
Kevin looked him dead in the eye. "No, I'm going to call the cops."
Hector rubbed his chin. "Might be the best shot we've got, no?"
“Whatever.” Darren shook his head, “I'm not putting my life in the hands of mini MacGyver, over there.”
"Well, what's your plan, frat boy?" said Liz. "You even got one?"
Darren scoffed. "Yeah, I got one."
“My boy's always got the plan." said Trey, Darren's best friend since Kindergarten. They high fived and bumped chests. "Hell yeah."
Marie shook her head. "And?"
"And what?" replied Darren dismissively."
"What's the plan, Einstein?"
"It's Laurenstein, dumnass." He looked at Trey and they both shook their heads. "So, the plan is this. I was in the sports department earlier—
"Of course you were." said Liz whilst studying her nails."
"It's pretty well equipped. Barbells, dumbbells, baseball bats, golf clubs—
"It's also really exposed," said Marie. "Mostly crates, not many shelves. Nothing around it to stop us being seen by Peterson or the security cameras."
"She's right," added Ted, the deputy store manager. "But, we got a new shipment of sports equipment in on Friday. Hasn't been put out on the floor yet. It's in the storeroom out back. Maybe we can go for those instead?
"Great idea, shirt guy,” said Darren. “So, we tool up and beat the mother fucker to death before he knows what day of the week it is."
"It's Sunday." scoffed Liz.
"Exactly," replied Darren, his face deadly serious.
The group stirred, tension rising again. Marie noticed Jake looking at Kevin with something close to hope — and at Darren with growing distrust.
“If the call fails,” Kevin said, “we’re still alive. Still together. Your plan? It fails and we’re all dead.”
Liz turned to Marie. “So? What’s it gonna be? High-tech Hail Mary or caveman charge?”
If she decides Kevin's plan might save lives, go to [[Chapter 19]]
If she decides Darren's action is needed, go to [[Chapter 18]] Chapter 16 : Under Pressure
Marie made her choice. "We'll stay with Hector," she said firmly. "Kevin's idea has merit. And Ray's approach..." She shook her head. "That's how more people get killed."
Hector nodded approvingly as Ray's group departed with angry mutters. Once they were gone, the remaining group felt smaller but somehow more focused.
"Right then," Hector said, turning to Kevin. "Tell me more about these traps of yours."
Kevin's face lit up behind his cracked glasses. "Well, I was thinking we could use pressure plates with simple circuits from the electronics department..."
Hector studied Kevin's crude diagram with professional interest. "Boobytraps," he said quietly. "You know what you're looking at here, muchacho?"
"I... yeah," Kevin admitted. "I've been studying this stuff for a while. Since Darren and his friends started calling me ‘Unabomber’ every day. I wanted to know if I actually could be, if I had to be. So I read.”
The admission hung in the air like a toxic cloud.
"Read?" Liz asked nervously. “Read what?"
"Underground publications mostly," Kevin said with growing confidence, as if their situation had made his research suddenly legitimate. "Anarchist cookbooks, military surplus manuals, electronics magazines. You'd be surprised what you can learn when people think you're harmless."
Marie felt a chill. "Kevin..."
As they discussed Kevin's disturbing research, Marie caught sight of movement through the store. Mrs. Davenport was calmly navigating the main aisle with her shopping cart, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around her. She stopped at a display of seasonal items, examining Halloween decorations with the same careful attention she gave everything else.
"How is she still alive?" Marie wondered aloud.
The elderly woman selected a small pumpkin decoration, turned it over to check the price, then placed it thoughtfully in her cart before continuing her leisurely shopping expedition.
"Remarkable," Kevin observed, following Marie's gaze. "Complete cognitive dissociation from threat stimuli. She's operating on pure routine behaviour."
Mrs. Davenport disappeared around a corner, the familiar squeak of her cart wheels fading into the distance.
The PA system crackled to life above them, making everyone tense. Peterson's voice echoed through the store with dark amusement: "Today's special: buy one bullet, get the second one free. While stock lasts."
The twisted retail humour sent chills through the group. Kevin's enthusiasm faltered momentarily.
"The boy's got the enthusiasm," Hector interrupted, his voice carrying a weight of experience, "but thankfully I have the experience to keep him on track." He met Kevin's eyes directly. "Vietnam. Three tours. Saw enough booby traps to know how they work. And how they can go wrong."
Kevin stared at him with something approaching worship. "You were special forces?"
"Something like that." Hector's expression darkened. "Point is, amigo—controlled, precise, no unnecessary damage. These things have a way of getting away from you if you're not careful."
As they began gathering components, Marie noticed how both men moved with practiced efficiency. Kevin's enthusiasm tempered by Hector's hard-earned wisdom.
She just hoped Hector could keep Kevin's darker impulses in check.
If Marie and Jake help Kevin and Hector build defensive traps, go to [[Chapter 20]]
If Marie and Jake decide to scout for Peterson while the others work, go to [[Chapter 21]]
Chapter 17 : The Five
Ray led his group through the darkened aisles with newfound purpose, but Marie could see the anger still simmering beneath the surface. His knuckles were white around the crowbar handle.
"That janitor thinks he knows everything," Ray muttered as they moved through housewares. "We'll see how smart he is when that psycho finds him first."
Linda glanced back nervously. "Ray, maybe we shouldn't—I mean, Hector seemed like he was just trying to help."
"Help?" Ray stopped so suddenly that Steve nearly walked into him. "You think what he did back there was helping? Making me look like some kind of amateur?"
Ray's voice had an edge that made Linda step back. Marie noticed how Ray seemed to grow when he intimidated someone, like he was feeding off it.
They encountered an elderly man cowering behind a display of kitchen appliances. Ray questioned him about Peterson and the lottery ticket, his methods still relatively restrained but with an underlying menace.
As they moved through housewares, Marie spotted something surreal in the kitchenware aisle. Mrs. Davenport was calmly examining a set of mixing bowls, reading the product description with the same careful attention she gave to everything. She tested the weight of one bowl, nodded approvingly, then placed the set in her cart.
"Is that Mrs. Davenport?" Jake whispered in disbelief.
The elderly woman continued her methodical shopping, completely unbothered by Ray's armed group or the danger lurking throughout the store. She moved to a display of cooking utensils, picking up a wooden spoon and examining its craftsmanship.
"How is she not dead yet?" Steve muttered.
Ray barely glanced at the old woman, his attention focused on more important prey. "Probably too senile to be worth his time," he said dismissively.
Mrs. Davenport finished her inspection of the kitchen goods and wheeled her cart toward the next aisle, humming softly to herself as if this were just another peaceful Sunday evening shopping trip.
Ray's jaw tightened, his grip on the crowbar shifting from tool to weapon.
They spotted Peterson moving through the pharmacy section, as he calmly talked into his radio and his grim voice echoes around the store. "Today's special: buy one bullet, get the second one free. While supplies last."
Ray kept the group hidden. Peterson's dead eyes swept over their area without interest—he was hunting for something specific.
"Why didn't he bother with us?" Steve whispered after Peterson disappeared.
Marie realised the chilling truth: Peterson was hunting specifically for Jake and the ticket too. Ray didn't know he was competing with a killer for the same prize.
"We're getting close," Ray said with growing satisfaction. "I can feel it."
Marie caught the hunger in his eyes. This wasn't about survival anymore—Ray was enjoying the hunt. She exchanged a worried glance with Jake.
But they were in too deep now to just walk away. Ray's group was armed and organised, and out here alone, she and Jake would be easy targets for Peterson. At least with Ray, they had some protection.
Even if Ray himself was becoming something to fear.
If Marie tries to influence Ray to be less aggressive, go to [[Chapter 22]]
If Marie decides to keep quiet and see how far Ray will go, go to [[Chapter 23]]
Chapter 18 : Got Guns?
They moved silently and smoothly along the outer wall towards the stockroom at the back. Thankfully the noisy metal up and over was open a few feet and they slid under.
Liz pointed at the wooden crate in row 4 of the cavernous and eerily room.
“I can’t find a crowbar or anything to—
Darren ripped the wooden lid off the crate with his bare hands and tossed it aside. He reached in and pulled out a baseball bat in each of his giant hands. “Yeah, these should do it.” Pass these back.” He handed out more sports equipment, golf clubs, hockey sticks. Cricket bats.
He then pulled out a football and spun it in the palm of his hand. “Now. We’re talking.”
“What are you going to do with that?” Asked Ted.
He grinned at his teammates, Trey and Nord, who nodded with religious conviction. "I can ring a man's bell from thirty yards with this thing."
"We're going after someone with a gun," Marie pointed out.
“Oh, we got guns, baby,” said Darren and he and his boys instantly flexed their biceps.
“Are you shitting me?”
Darren gave her a look that might have melted lesser women. “I shit you not. You got a better idea, checkout girl?”
Marie shook her head, more. In disbelief than anything.
“Now listen up, team,” Darren’s deep voice took on a serious tone. “Here’s the play. When I nail him with this"—he held up the football—"he'll be seeing stars. That's when I yell 'charge' and we all rush him. Together. No heroes. As soon as you reach him you pound him into the dirt. We're taking no prisoners."
"NO PRISONERS!" Yelled his team mates in unison.
"Jesus, you morons" whispered Liz. "This isn't the, you know, football final…thing."
Even so, Darren's confidence was infectious. Marie found herself nodding. This was Darren Mitchell, after all. The boy who'd played through a separated shoulder to win States. If anyone could pull this off...
we go out there, and we hit that bastard hard. He's not expecting a counterattack.”
Jake looked miserable. “I don’t know about this.” He looked at the gold club in his hand. “But it’s something at least.”
Hector and Ted watched grimly from the other side of the room. Ted made no attempt to hide his disdain. “This is reckless. He’s still got the gun. He sees us coming, and it’s a massacre.”
“The more people we have the stronger we’ll be as a team.”
Marie watched the divide grow. There was no time to unify them now. Darren’s ‘team’ was already forming up, testing out their weapons. He was convincing enough of them This was happening now.
Liz stepped toward Marie. “He’s gonna do it with or without you, sweetie. Might be safer to stay close.”
Marie’s heart pounded. The store had become a war zone. There were no good choices left—only faster or slower ways to die, it seemed.
If Marie continues with Darren’s plan, go to [[Chapter 24]]
If Marie chooses not to take part at the last second, go to [[Chapter 25]] Chapter 19 : Peaches
As she looked at Kevin's determined face, she realised something: doing nothing wasn't an option anymore.
She nodded. "Let’s go."
As they slipped out the door she turned back to look at the others. “Darren,” she whispered. “Good luck."
He nodded, appreciatively. “You too, checkout girl.”
The corridor beyond was dark, lit only by emergency strips that bathed the linoleum in blood red. Kevin led them like a scout, eyes flicking to every corner.
A shadow moved up ahead. All three of them ducked behind a tipped-over mop bucket, breath frozen in their throats.
It was Mrs. Davenport in the darkness. She was reaching up to a high shelf for something. Marie almost broke away from the group to get her but then froze. A scraping sound came from somewhere deep in the darkness. Another figure approached. It was Peterson, and Mrs Davenport didn’t seem to notice him as he came up behind her.
Jake looked away and Marie covered her mouth.
But instead of raising the axe he held in his hand, he reached over her and pulled down a can of her beloved peaches and handed it to her. “Thank you, dear.” She said without even looking at him. He said nothing and instead continued on his way. Dragging the axe along the concrete floor. He began humming something tuneless. The moment stretched impossibly long. Then, mercifully, he turned down the other corridor.
They didn’t breathe again until he was gone.
Kevin exhaled. "We move now."
“What about Ms Davenport?” Said Marie.
“He’s Cleary not interested in her,” said Kevin.
They ran.
Past the cosmetics display. Past a shattered endcap of detergent bottles. Over shards of plastic and pools of congealed something.
The store had become a graveyard.
When they finally reached Electronics, Kevin dropped to his knees and crawled behind the counter. He began rifling through a drawer, searching for the key to the display case.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, fingers fumbling, where is it?"
Jake paced nearby, peering into the gloom beyond. “Hurry up, man.”
“Do you want to do this?” Kevin snapped, sweat pouring down his temples. “Do you want to figure out which key it is, in the dark, with blood on your hands and a lunatic walking the aisles? No? Then either calm down and help or keep a lookout and let me work.”
If Marie chooses to stay and help Kevin with the phone, go to [[Chapter 26]]
If Marie chooses to stand guard and keep watch for danger, go to [[Chapter 27]] Chapter 22 : The Ticket
Ray's group had cornered another survivor—a middle-aged woman clutching a pharmacy bag. She was terrified, backing against a wall of vitamins as Ray approached with his crowbar.
"Please, I haven't seen anything," she sobbed. "I was just getting my medication when this all started."
"Medication, huh?" Ray's voice had taken on a cruel edge. "What about lottery tickets? You see anyone with a big winning ticket tonight?"
Marie couldn't stay silent anymore. "Ray, she's scared enough. Look at her—she doesn't know anything."
Ray turned to Marie, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "You got a problem with how I do things?"
"I'm just saying we don't need to terrorise innocent people." Marie kept her voice calm but firm. "We're supposed to be the good guys here."
Linda nodded eagerly. "Marie's right. This woman hasn't done anything wrong."
Ray's jaw tightened. The group was watching, waiting to see who would back down. Marie could see the humiliation building in his face again—that same look he'd had with Hector.
"Fine," Ray said finally, stepping back from the woman. "Go hide somewhere. But if I find out you're lying about that ticket..."
The woman fled without another word.
Ray rounded on Marie. "Don't ever undermine me again in front of the group. You got that?"
"I wasn't trying to—"
"Yeah, you were." Ray stepped closer, using his size to intimidate. "And if you don't like how I run things, you can find your own way out there."
Marie felt Jake's hand on her arm, a warning to back down. But she'd seen something in Ray's eyes that scared her more than Peterson's dead stare—pleasure. Ray was enjoying this.
If Marie decides to leave Ray's group with Jake before things get worse, go to [[Chapter 30]]
If Marie decides to stay and try to keep Ray in check, go to [[Chapter 31]] Chapter 21 : Solo Work
Marie and Jake decided to scout ahead while Hector and Kevin worked on their defensive preparations. The store felt like a maze of shadows and potential death traps, every aisle a potential ambush point.
"Stay low," Marie whispered as they moved through housewares. "And watch for—"
A scream cut through the air from the pharmacy section. They crept closer, peering around a display of kitchen appliances.
Peterson stood over a middle-aged woman in a Value-Mart vest, his fire axe dripping red. He methodically checked her pockets, found nothing of interest, then pulled out his price gun and tagged her with a clearance sticker.
"Efficient," Peterson muttered to himself, stepping over the body.
Marie grabbed Jake's arm, pulling him back as Peterson moved on. They watched him disappear toward the front of the store, his footsteps echoing with mechanical precision.
"Jesus," Jake breathed. "He's just... hunting them all."
As they continued their reconnaissance, they spotted Ray's group moving through sporting goods. Ray held his crowbar like a weapon now, his earlier restraint completely gone.
That's when it happened. Peterson and Ray locked eyes across the store, maybe fifty feet apart. Both men froze, sizing each other up. Peterson's hand tightened on his axe. Ray raised his crowbar slightly.
For a tense moment, Marie thought they would fight. Two predators recognising each other.
Instead, Peterson tilted his head in what might have been acknowledgment, then continued his patrol. Ray watched him go, something calculating in his expression.
"They're not fighting each other," Marie realised with a chill. "They're... coexisting."
After twenty minutes of scouting, they made their way back to electronics. Marie was focused on what they'd witnessed when her foot hit something that clicked softly.
"Marie, STOP!" Hector's voice cracked like a whip.
She froze, looking down. Her foot was pressed against a small pressure plate, wires leading to a device hidden behind a display of computer mice.
Hector moved with swift precision, his hands working carefully to disarm the mechanism. After a tense moment, he exhaled and gently lifted Marie's foot.
"Where did this come from?" Hector demanded, examining the device. "We didn't build this, eh?”
Kevin looked up from his work, not meeting Hector's eyes. "Actually, I did that one on my own. While you were organising the other components."
Hector's expression darkened. "Kevin, we discussed this. No solo work, amigo. These things are too dangerous—"
"I know what I'm doing," Kevin interrupted, his voice carrying new confidence. "I've been studying this stuff for years."
"Studying isn't the same as experience," Hector said firmly. "You could have killed Marie. Hell, you could have killed all of us."
Kevin's jaw tightened. "I'm not some amateur. I know how to build things that work."
"That's exactly what worries me," Hector said quietly, studying Kevin with new concern.
Before anyone could respond, they heard voices approaching—panicked, desperate voices.
"This way!" Darren's voice echoed through the aisles. "I know where the emergency exit is!"
"Are you sure?" Trey gasped, running behind him. "Because if you're wrong—"
They burst into the sporting goods section at a full sprint, not watching where they stepped. Kevin's solo trap—the one he'd built and placed without Hector's knowledge—triggered instantly.
The explosion was contained but lethal. Both boys went down immediately, their bodies torn apart by the carefully placed shrapnel Kevin had embedded in the device.
Hector stared at the carnage in shock. "What the hell? We didn't put a device there."
Kevin's face was unreadable behind his glasses, but Marie caught something in his expression—not horror, but satisfaction. She remembered his earlier confidence, his insistence that he "knew what he was doing."
"Must have been Peterson," Kevin said quietly. "Setting traps of his own."
But Marie knew better. She'd witnessed Kevin's unauthorised bomb-making firsthand.
If Marie confronts Kevin about the unauthorised trap, go to [[Chapter 29]]
If Marie decides to trust Kevin's explanation, go to [[Chapter 28]] Chapter 23 : Answers
Ray's group had cornered another survivor—a middle-aged woman clutching a pharmacy bag. She was terrified, backing against a wall of vitamins as Ray approached with his crowbar.
"Please, I haven't seen anything," she sobbed. "I was just getting my medication when this all started."
"Medication, huh?" Ray's voice had taken on a cruel edge. "What about lottery tickets? You see anyone with a big winning ticket tonight?"
Marie watched in horrified silence as Ray stepped closer to the woman, his crowbar tapping against his palm. Every instinct told her to speak up, but Jake's grip on her arm warned her to stay quiet.
"I... I don't know what you mean," the woman stammered.
Ray smiled—a cold expression that didn't reach his eyes. "See, I think you're lying. People always lie when they're scared." He raised the crowbar slightly. "Makes me wonder what else you might be hiding."
"Ray," Linda whispered, but he ignored her.
"Empty your purse," Ray commanded. "Everything on the floor. Now."
The woman complied with shaking hands, spilling pills, tissues, and a few dollars onto the linoleum. Ray kicked through the items with his boot, clearly disappointed.
"Pathetic," he muttered. Then, almost as an afterthought, he backhanded the woman across the face. She fell hard, crying out.
"That's for wasting my time," Ray said casually.
Marie bit her tongue to keep from protesting. Jake's grip tightened on her arm. They both saw what Ray was becoming, but speaking up would only make them targets.
Steve and Mitch exchanged uncomfortable glances. Even they seemed disturbed by Ray's casual cruelty.
As they moved on, leaving the sobbing woman behind, Ray seemed energised rather than satisfied. He was getting a taste for this.
"Next one better have answers," Ray said with anticipation.
Marie realised with growing dread that there would definitely be a next one.
If Marie decides she can't watch this anymore and tries to leave, go to [[Chapter 30]]
If Marie stays with the group despite her horror, go to [[Chapter 31]] Chapter 20 : A Thing of Beauty
Marie and Jake decided to help Kevin and Hector with their defensive preparations. The electronics section had become an impromptu workshop, with components spread across multiple surfaces.
"Hand me that resistor," Hector said quietly, his weathered hands working with surprising precision. "No, the smaller one. Good."
Kevin watched Hector's every move with intense fascination. "You really know what you're doing. Where did you learn all this?"
Hector's hands paused for just a moment. "It was a long time ago. I'd rather forget it."
"But you were really special forces?" Kevin pressed, unable to hide his excitement. "Like, real missions? Against bad guys?"
"Kevin," Marie warned, sensing Hector's discomfort.
"It's alright," Hector said, though his voice carried weight. "Yeah, amigo. Real missions. Real bad guys." He looked up from the circuit board. "But it changes you. Taking a life... it's not something you ever get used to. Not if you're still human."
Kevin leaned forward. "But they deserved it, right? The people you... the bad guys?"
Hector was quiet for a long moment, connecting two wires with practiced care. "Some of them, yeah. Viet Cong who'd booby-trap schools with children inside. Officers who'd sell village girls like livestock." His jaw tightened. "I hate bullies, amigo. Always have."
"Yeah," Kevin sighed, something loosening in his chest. "Me too."
For the first time in his life, Kevin felt understood. Here was someone who'd actually fought against evil, who'd made bullies pay for their cruelty. Someone who knew what it was like to be powerless and decide to take power back.
"That's why we do this right," Hector continued, gesturing to their work. "Controlled. Precise. We protect the innocent, not become the monsters ourselves."
Kevin nodded eagerly. "Like Peterson. He's exactly the kind of bully you fought against, isn't he?"
"Worse," Hector said grimly. "At least the Viet Cong had a cause they believed in. Peterson's just a predator who enjoys the hunt."
They worked in companionable silence for a while, Kevin absorbing every technique, every precaution Hector demonstrated. This was what he'd been missing—not just the knowledge, but the righteousness. The sense that violence could serve justice.
"There," Hector said finally, examining their completed device. "Pressure-activated, contained blast radius. Should stop anyone who steps on it without bringing down the whole store, no?”
"It's beautiful," Kevin breathed, studying the elegant simplicity of the design.
Hector gave him a sharp look. "It's a tool, Kevin. Nothing more. The moment you start thinking of weapons as beautiful, that's when you cross a line you can't come back from."
"I know," Kevin said quickly. "I just meant... it's good work. Professional."
"Let's get it placed," Hector said, standing with a grunt. "Sporting goods section. If Peterson comes through there hunting for weapons, he'll get a surprise."
As they carefully moved through the store to plant their device, they heard voices approaching—panicked, desperate voices.
"This way!" Darren's voice echoed through the aisles. "I know where the emergency exit is!"
"Are you sure?" Trey gasped, running behind him. "Because if you're wrong—"
They burst into the sporting goods section at a full sprint, not watching where they stepped. Kevin's solo trap—the one he'd built and placed without Hector's knowledge—triggered instantly.
The explosion was contained but lethal. Both boys went down immediately, their bodies torn apart by the carefully placed shrapnel Kevin had embedded in the device.
Hector stared at the carnage in shock. "What the hell? We didn't put a device here."
Kevin's face was unreadable behind his glasses, but Marie caught something in his expression—not horror, but satisfaction.
"Must have been Peterson," Kevin said quietly. "Setting traps of his own."
But Marie had seen Kevin working alone earlier. And she'd seen that look on his face.
If Marie decides to trust Kevin's explanation, go to [[Chapter 28]]
If Marie confronts Kevin about the unauthorised trap, go to [[Chapter 29]] Chapter 25 : Let Me In
The break room felt colder than before. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the distant creaks and groans of the building settling—or maybe something moving beyond the walls. Marie stood near the door, staring at the empty space where Darren and the others had just been. The last thing she’d heard him say echoed in her ears:
"He’ll go down. You’ll see. I got this."
Jake leaned against the vending machine, arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyes locked on the floor. Ted paced in a tight circle, muttering to himself. A few others lingered nearby—two teens, a middle-aged woman clutching her purse like a life raft, and an elderly man who hadn't spoken since they'd arrived.
Marie didn’t know what she’d expected. Relief, maybe. Or guilt. But mostly, there was just tension. The kind that settled into your bones and wouldn’t let go.
“Maybe we should’ve gone,” Ted said suddenly. His voice cracked on the last word. “Maybe we should’ve backed them up.”
“No,” Jake said without looking up. “That was suicide.”
“You don’t know that.”
Marie said nothing. They all knew.
Minutes passed. Then—
Thud.
A dull, meaty impact.
Everyone froze.
Another sound followed: a shotgun blast.
Then a pause.
And then—chaos.
Screams. More gunfire. Something crashing to the floor. A metallic clatter. The screech of someone trying to drag something heavy. Then more screaming.
Marie clamped her hands over her ears.
Ted backed up against the lockers. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
The woman with the purse began to cry quietly. The teens clung to each other, eyes wide with disbelief.
Jake stared at the break room door. “That’s him,” he said softly. “It’s Peterson.”
“No one’s supposed to have that kind of firepower,” someone whispered.
More shots. Each one felt like a hammer blow against the walls.
Then came the smell. Acrid, metallic. Gunpowder. It snuck in through the cracks in the doorframe, threading itself into their noses, their clothes.
A voice shouted. Not Darren. Not anyone Marie recognised.
Then silence.
Long, awful silence.
Then—banging.
Someone slammed on the break room door. Rapid, panicked.
“LET ME IN!”
Marie jumped. Ted nearly fell over.
“Open it!” the voice cried. “PLEASE!”
Jake hesitated, then unlocked the door and yanked it open.
A teenage boy stumbled inside, blood streaked across his shirt and arms, his face pale as bone. One eye was nearly swollen shut.
He collapsed just inside the room.
“He killed them,” the boy gasped. “All of them. Darren... he just... he hit him with a football, and the guy... he just stood up. Shot him in the head like it was nothing.”
The woman with the purse sobbed harder.
“Trey ran at him,” the boy continued. “He was screaming. Peterson didn’t even blink. Shot him twice in the chest. Everyone panicked. I... I ran. I didn’t know where to go. I think Liz got away, but I don’t know. Everyone else...”
He trailed off. The look in his eyes told them the rest.
Ted sat down hard in a chair. “They were just kids.”
“No one should’ve followed him,” Jake muttered.
Marie crouched beside the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Chris.”
“You’re safe now, Chris.”
“No one’s safe,” he said.
The room was silent again.
Jake looked at Marie. “We can’t stay here. He’s out there. Picking us off one by one.”
Marie nodded. “We have to regroup. Maybe find Kevin. See if his phone plan worked. Or find another way out.”
Chris let out a broken laugh. “You want to go back out there?”
“I want to survive,” she said.
The door creaked as Jake eased it shut again.
Somewhere in the distance, another gunshot rang out.
If she joins Jake's surprise attack, go to [[Chapter 32]]
If she pulls him back into hiding, go to [[Chapter 33]] Chapter 24 : The Howitzer
Marie crouched low behind an overturned metal shelf, pressing her back against the cool steel. Her heart hammered against her ribcage. The overhead fluorescents flickered, casting erratic shadows across the ravaged Value Mart aisles. Somewhere beyond the row of toppled displays, Peterson's heavy boots scuffed against the tile floor. Marie held her breath, gripping Jake's hand so tightly his knuckles cracked. Liz huddled on Marie's other side, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as she fought back a sob. A few feet ahead, Darren peered around the corner of a cereal aisle, clutching a scuffed leather football against his chest.
"We have to take him down," Darren whispered, eyes fixed on Peterson's silhouette across the store. His voice was steady, but Marie could see a slight tremor in his grip on the football. "He's not looking this way. When he turns, I'll nail him with this, then we all rush him. All at once."
Marie's stomach twisted. Rush him? Peterson had a gun. She forced down a surge of nausea. In the dim light she could make out Peterson's tall form with his back turned, methodically pacing near the electronics section. He was terrifyingly calm for a man who had been hunting them through the store.
Jake leaned in, barely audible. "Darren... what if it doesn't work?" he breathed, voice quavering despite his attempt at courage. "He could just start shooting."
Darren met their eyes. Marie could see the fear on his face too, but he still managed a quick, determined grin. "He won't see it coming," Darren assured them quietly. "I hit Peterson in the back of the head, and while he's dazed, we overwhelm him. He can't shoot all of us at once."
Marie bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Her instincts screamed to run, to hide—anything but charge a man with a gun. But what choice did they have? Peterson had already killed so many. He would find them eventually. They were cornered unless they fought back. She nodded faintly, even though every muscle in her body begged her to flee.
Out of the corner of her eye, Marie suddenly noticed Liz inching backward. Liz's eyes were huge with panic. She shook her head in silent apology, then turned and slipped away into a neighbouring aisle, disappearing into the gloom. Marie's heart lurched. Liz had broken off and fled, leaving the rest of them to face Peterson without her.
Nearby, Trey shifted his weight, white-knuckling the aluminium baseball bat he had grabbed from Sporting Goods. His freckled face was tight with dread, but his eyes locked on Darren with fierce loyalty. Marie knew Trey had been Darren's best friend since childhood—if Darren charged into hell, Trey would follow.
Marie swallowed and mustered a whisper to Darren, her voice trembling, "Just... be careful." It was half plea, half prayer.
Darren gave a tiny nod without looking back. "Trust me," he breathed.
Suddenly, Peterson's footsteps halted. From their crouched hiding spot, Marie saw his dark figure stop, head slightly tilted as if he had heard something. Her blood turned to ice. Had he heard Liz leaving? Had he heard them breathing? The group fell deathly silent. Marie's heart pounded so hard she feared it would give them away. After a torturous moment, Peterson resumed his slow patrol, turning down the next aisle. His back was to them now.
Now.
Darren exploded from cover. In one swift motion he rose and stepped into the open, arm already cocked. The football hurtled from his hand, spiralling through the air across the dim store. It sailed over overturned carts and shattered merchandise, straight toward its target.
Thwack! The football cracked against the back of Peterson's skull with a solid thump.
A direct hit. Peterson staggered forward a step from the blow, caught completely off guard. Hope surged in Marie's chest. Darren had done it—he had struck him!
"Now!" Darren hollered, already charging forward. Trey was right behind him, erupting from cover with a furious yell. A couple of others from the group rose up as well, mustering desperate courage to follow.
But Peterson didn't go down.
The man straightened, almost leisurely, one hand rubbing the back of his head. Then, with chilling calm, he pivoted to face them. The fluorescent light fell on Peterson's face as he turned, revealing cold, steady eyes. His pistol was already raised.
Darren was still yards away, sprinting full tilt. Peterson's gun came up in one fluid motion.
Bang! The gunshot was earsplitting. Darren's head snapped back as a red mist sprayed into the air behind him. His momentum carried him two faltering steps before he collapsed to his knees. Marie choked on a scream. Her ears rang and her vision tunnelled on Darren's figure.
Amazingly, Darren didn't fall over immediately. Swaying on his knees, he turned his head slightly toward Marie. Blood streamed down his temple, yet his lips curled into a faint grin. "Nailed it," he mumbled. The words barely left his mouth before his body finally pitched forward. Darren fell face-first to the floor, motionless.
For an endless second, Marie was frozen in horror, unable to breathe or scream.
Then Trey's anguished harrowing scream tore through the air: "You're dead, fucker!"
Trey launched himself from behind the shelf, baseball bat raised high. He charged straight at Peterson with a grief-stricken roar. Marie barely had time to register Trey's reckless figure before two shots rang out in perfect succession.
The first bullet caught Trey in the shoulder, spinning him sideways. The second hit a heartbeat later, and the back of Trey's skull exploded in a spray of blood. He dropped instantly, crashing to the floor not far from where Darren lay. Trey's bat clattered away, never having reached its target.
"No..." said Peterson, calmly. "You are."
The store erupted into chaos. The remaining survivors either rushed forward in a last desperate attack or turned to flee for their lives. Peterson opened fire into the panicked crowd without hesitation.
Jake grabbed Marie and yanked her down hard behind the metal shelf. She hit the floor as a bullet whizzed past where her head had been an instant before, blasting through a row of cereal boxes in an explosion of cardboard and cornflakes. Marie curled into a ball on the tiles next to Jake as gunshots thundered and people screamed.
From behind the cover of the shelf, Marie caught disjointed glimpses of the slaughter. Through a gap between products, she saw one man rush Peterson with a pipe—Peterson turned and shot him down effortlessly. A woman in a store uniform was sprinting toward the exit, sobbing—another crack of gunfire and she collapsed mid-stride. Screams echoed and cut off abruptly one after another. Marie squeezed her eyes shut as a final shrill voice cried, "Please, please!" and was silenced by a last gunshot.
Then, suddenly, it was over. The gunfire ceased. The echoes of the last shot faded into a ringing silence. The store was deathly quiet once more.
Marie remained curled on the floor, her entire body shaking. The stench of gunpowder and blood choked the air. In the eerie silence, she realised she could hear the buzz of the lights again—and nothing else. No footsteps. No voices. Peterson seemed to be gone, at least for now.
"Are... are you okay?" Jake's whisper barely registered. Marie nodded stiffly, though nothing was okay. Not even close. They were alive—that fact felt unreal.
Cautiously, Marie lifted her head. The aisles were strewn with bodies and awash in blood. Overturned shopping carts and shattered product displays lay everywhere, riddled with bullet holes. It was a war zone in what used to be a grocery store.
Marie and Jake crawled out from behind the shelf, keeping low. Their legs felt like jelly beneath them. They moved through the carnage on hands and knees, too stunned to stand upright. Marie's hand slipped in something warm and slick—blood. She stifled a sob.
They passed Darren and Trey lying close together in pools of red. Darren's sightless eyes were open, and on his bloody face there lingered that faint, final smile. Trey lay just beyond him, one arm outstretched toward his fallen friend. The two boys who had been inseparable in life now lay inches apart in death. The sight ripped a ragged sob from Marie's chest.
Everywhere Marie looked, she recognised someone—people who mere minutes ago had stood beside her were now dead. She felt a crushing guilt that she and Jake had survived when the others had not. She had crouched and hidden while her friends were cut down. Her stomach heaved, but there was nothing left to bring up. Tears blurred her vision as she and Jake huddled together on the blood-slick floor.
Jake wrapped an arm around Marie's trembling shoulders. They clung to each other, both of them crying silently, their minds numb with shock and grief. They were barely holding it together.
The store lay in ruin and silence around them. They couldn't stay here amid the bodies—Peterson could return at any moment, or maybe he was waiting for any sign of life. Marie wiped her eyes with a shaking hand. She and Jake had to move, had to do something... but what?
If Marie chooses to keep attacking, go to [[Chapter 32]]
If Marie grabs Jake and dives for cover, go to [[Chapter 33]] Chapter 26 : Make the Call
The trio slipped through the door into the main aisles, moving quickly but low, shadows among shadows. The dim red emergency lights along the ceiling cast long streaks across toppled shelves and shattered packaging. A cardboard cutout of a smiling celebrity hawking shampoo lay face-down in a puddle of something dark.
Somewhere in the distance was a distinct scrapping sound. And elsewhere, slightly closer, was the sound of someone whimpering.
Kevin led the way, ducking low as he weaved between displays. Marie’s pulse hammered in her throat. Jake stayed close behind her.
After what felt like hours of moving, freezing, listening and then moving again, over and over, they finally reached the electronics section. Kevin fumbled in his pocket for something and then knelt in front of the desk.
“Come on…” he whispered.
“What are you looking for?” Jake asked.
Kevin didn’t look up. "The display case key," he whispered. "I keep it in my drawer for the expensive demonstrations."
The lock clicked, then a metallic scrape. Kevin yanked open the drawer and rifled through receipts, clipboards, instruction manuals, finally pulling out a small key on a company keychain.
"Got it."
"Now what?" Marie whispered, crouching beside him.
Kevin held up the key, then moved to the locked display cabinet. Inside, behind reinforced glass, sat a single DynaTAC phone - a brick-sized device worth nearly four thousand dollars. "The demonstration phone," Kevin explained quietly. "We charge it overnight for customer demos." He fumbled with the lock. The display case wouldn't budge. "Wrong key," he muttered, trying another from the ring.
Jake turned and peered nervously into the store. "Hurry, man."
"Do you want to do this?" Kevin snapped. "Do you want to guess which key opens this case in the dark while someone's out there playing hide and seek with an axe? No? Then shut up and let me work!"
The case clicked open with a soft sound. Kevin carefully lifted the phone out. It was heavy in his hands - nearly two pounds of electronics and battery.
“I have no way of knowing how much power is left in this thing. It was used twice today, so it’s gonna be tight.” He extended the antenna and powered it on. The phone's small indicator lights flickered to life.
Jake flinched as a soft electronic beep came from the device.
"Keep it quiet!" Marie hissed, eyes darting to the black void of the store beyond.
Kevin quickly muffled the speaker with his hand.
All three of them froze.
Somewhere in the store, a creak.
Or was it a footstep?
A voice, distant, maybe laughing. Maybe humming. It was hard to tell. The echoes distorted everything.
Kevin clutched the phone to his chest like it was a newborn. “It’s ready."
“Okay then, call the cops,” Jake whispered.
Kevin nodded and lifted the phone.
“Wait,” Marie said.
Kevin paused.
“My dad,” she said. “He’s closer. Retired from the force, yeah, but he still has his scanner on 24/7. If he hears any kind of emergency ping from this area—he’ll be listening.”
Jake looked at her. “So?”
Marie shook her head. “He’d come. With his old Remington and a Beretta. If he thinks I’m inside—he’ll come straight in.”
Kevin glanced between them. “So… what are you saying?”
Marie’s voice trembled. “I’m saying he won’t wait outside for orders. Or SWAT. He won’t treat this like a hostage situation. He’ll bust down the door and try to save me.”
Jake raised his eyebrows. “That’s great.”
“Not if Peterson’s waiting,” Marie said. “And my dad’s the first one he sees.”
A long pause.
Kevin stared at the phone. We got one call, and it needs to be now. Marie.”
Jake’s voice was tense. “Then call the cops."
Marie didn’t answer.
Jake turned to her. “Marie?”
Her fingers were clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. Her father’s face filled her thoughts — the same look he had the day he taught her how to shoot at the range. Calm. Determined. Steady hands.
But steady hands couldn’t stop a bullet from an ambush. Or an axe.
“He could die,” she whispered.
Kevin stared at her, phone in hand. “If we don’t make this call we could all die, Marie”
“Look,” she said quietly, “If I call him first… I might be able to warn him. Tell him to wait. Tell him what he’s walking into. He can call the cops, bring everyone. The whole fucking lot.”
Jake blinked. “So… call your dad then?”
Marie looked between them both. “It might be the only way to stop him rushing in blind. At least if I talk to him first, I have a chance to stop him doing something stupid. He listens to me. Or he used to.”
Kevin nodded slowly. “God dammit, Marie.” He held out the phone. “Just make the call. Any call.”
Marie took a breath. The longest of her life.
If Marie calls her father, go to [[Chapter 34]]
If Marie calls the police, go to [[Chapter 35]] Chapter 27 : Five Minutes
Kevin’s words were still hanging in the air when Marie and Jake glanced at each other. “Just give me five minutes,” Kevin said, eyes locked on the phone's indicator lights. “I can make this work. But I need space. You two breathing down my neck isn’t helping.”
Marie hesitated. They’d made it all this way together. Leaving Kevin alone now felt wrong—but she could also see the sweat beading on his forehead, the shake in his hands as he worked.
Jake sighed. “He’s right.”
Marie frowned. “But if something happens to you—”
“If something happens,” Kevin interrupted, “it happens faster if I can’t focus. Go. One of you keep watch, the other take a lap if you want, but let me do this.”
Jake glanced into the dark, wrecked aisles beyond the electronics counter. “We should give him cover. If we’re all staring at that phone, Peterson could walk up behind us and we’d never know.”
Marie nodded reluctantly. “Okay. We’ll loop around, keep an eye out.”
Kevin didn’t look up. “Just don’t get killed. I’d hate for this to be a waste of effort.”
They slipped off into the shadows again. Jake led the way, edging along an aisle lined with discount VHSs and smashed televisions. The silence pressed in around them.
“He’ll be alright,” Jake muttered.
Marie didn’t answer.
A few minutes later, they circled back through the home goods section—where shattered dishes glittered like confetti across the floor. That’s when they heard it.
Footsteps.
They tensed—but it wasn’t Peterson.
“Hey!”
Kevin came running, holding the phone out triumphantly like a trophy. “I got it working. I called the cops.”
Marie and Jake hurried over.
“You sure it went through?” Jake asked.
Kevin nodded, breathless. “Signal was weak, but I gave them the address. Told them we were locked inside. They said help was coming.”
Jake let out a shaky breath. “Good. That’s good.”
But before the relief could settle in, the store’s PA system crackled to life overhead.
“Attention all customers, prices have been slashed, as have quite a few throats.”
Peterson’s voice slithered down every aisle, every speaker crackling with his cold amusement.
The blood drained from Kevin’s face. “He heard it.”
“Or he’s bluffing,” Jake offered. But even he didn’t believe it.
Marie clutched her arms around herself, the chill in the air tightening. She glanced at the phone in Kevin’s hand, its power indicator light flickering dimly.
Then something struck her.
“My dad,” she said softly. “He's retired but he can’t let go. He has a scanner and listens in on the police chatter, the call outs. It keeps his finger on the pulse he says. If he heard that call go out on his scanner, he’ll know I’m in here.”
Jake turned. “So that’s good, right?”
Marie shook her head. “He won’t wait for backup. He’ll come in alone. It’s what he does. He won't know what's here and Peterson might be waiting.”
Kevin frowned. “There's still some power left, you might be able to call him.”
Marie hesitated. Her pulse pounded.
If you think Marie should call her father and warn him, go to [[Chapter 34]]
If you think Marie should stay alert and avoid any more calls, go to [[Chapter 35]] Chapter 28 : Signature
Marie looked between Hector and Kevin, both of them staring at the carnage in the sporting goods section. The tension was thick—Hector's suspicion, Kevin's defensive posture, the unspoken accusation hanging in the air.
"Kevin," Hector said slowly, his voice carrying the weight of military authority, "that device has your signature all over it. The wiring pattern, the shrapnel placement—"
"I told you, it must have been Peterson," Kevin interrupted, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Peterson doesn't build bombs, amigo. He's a hands-on killer." Hector stepped closer to Kevin, his expression stern. "You've been working without supervision. Going off-script. That's how people die."
Kevin's face flushed. "Those were bullies! They had it coming!"
"There it is," Hector said grimly. "The truth."
Marie felt the group fracturing. They couldn't afford to lose either of them—not Kevin's technical skills, not Hector's experience. Not when Peterson was still hunting them.
"Stop," Marie said firmly, stepping between them. "We need to survive the night and we need you both for that." She looked directly at Kevin. "He'll be careful from now on, won't you Kevin?"
Kevin's eyes brightened with gratitude. "Oh, sure, yeah. Absolutely."
Hector shook his head. "Marie, you don't understand. Once someone crosses that line, eh—“
"The line was already crossed the moment Peterson started killing people," Marie cut him off. "Kevin's just evening the odds."
"That's not how this works," Hector warned. "You can't control violence once you unleash it. Trust me, I know."
But Marie had made her choice. "Kevin stays. We work together. End of discussion."
Hector studied her face, then sighed heavily. "Your call. But don't say I didn't warn you."
Over the next hour, Kevin threw himself into his work with renewed enthusiasm. Marie watched him build device after device, each one more sophisticated than the last. Hector tried to offer guidance, but Kevin brushed him off.
"I've got this," Kevin said, connecting wires with manic energy. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
"Slow down, muchacho,” Hector urged. "You're rushing—"
"I'm not rushing. I'm being efficient." Kevin's hands moved faster, his breathing getting shallow. "We need to be ready. We need to show Peterson what happens when you mess with us."
Marie felt a chill of recognition. Kevin wasn't building defensively anymore. He was building for revenge.
"Maybe we should take a break—" she started.
"No breaks!" Kevin snapped, his voice cracking with hysteria. "Not until every bully in this place is dead!"
The device in his hands sparked. Kevin tried to fix it, but his modifications had made it unstable. The explosion was immediate and devastating.
The blast tore through the electronics section, taking Kevin, Hector, Marie, and Jake with it. Kevin's face, in the split second before the end, showed not fear but satisfaction.
He'd finally shown them all.
THE END Chapter 29 : It Was an Accident
After Marie's confrontation about the unauthorised trap, Hector took firm control of the situation. "From now on, nothing gets built without my supervision," he told Kevin sternly. "No solo projects. No modifications. We do this by the book."
Kevin nodded reluctantly, chastened by being called out in front of the group.
Marie, Jake, and Kevin regroup under Hector's watchful eye. Kevin was more subdued now, but there was still an underlying confidence simmering beneath the surface.
As they discussed their next moves, Marie noticed Mrs. Davenport wheeling her cart through the nearby seasonal section. The elderly woman paused at a display of artificial horror masks, examining the price tags with the same methodical care she brings to everything.
"How is she still just... shopping?" Jake asks in bewilderment.
Mrs. Davenport moved on to examine strings of lights, testing the flexibility of the wire with practiced fingers.
"Remarkable psychological resilience," Kevin observed, watching her with clinical interest. "Complete compartmentalisation of environmental threats. It's actually quite admirable from a survival standpoint."
The old woman finished her inspection of the holiday decorations and continued her shopping expedition, the familiar squeak of her cart wheels providing an oddly comforting rhythm in the chaos.
Kevin turns back to his plans, but there was now something different in his demeanour—a satisfaction that went beyond mere survival.
"Darren and Trey won't be bothering anyone anymore," Kevin said quietly, adjusting his glasses. "They had that coming a long time."
Marie felt a chill run down her spine. "Wait," she said carefully, "it was an accident, right? The trap going off when they ran through there?"
Kevin paused, his hands stilling over his components. When he looked up, there was something unreadable in his eyes. "Of course it was," he said finally.
Hector was studying Kevin with growing concern. "We need to focus on defence, not revenge," he said firmly. "Our job is to survive, not settle scores."
"I know," Kevin said quickly. "But we could gather more materials. The hardware section has everything we need for pressure plates, and the garden centre has the chemical components."
"Under my supervision," Hector emphasised. "Every step."
Marie realised Kevin's confidence had shifted into something more dangerous. But at least Hector was there to keep him in check.
For now.
If Marie decides they should warn Hector about Ray's escalating violence, go to [[Chapter 36]]
If Marie thinks they should keep quiet and avoid getting involved, go to [[Chapter 37]] Chapter 30 : Wrong Answer
Ray's group had cornered a young man near the pharmacy section—someone barely older than Jake, cowering behind overturned shopping carts.
"Please, I don't have anything," the kid pleaded. "I was just trying to get out when the shutters came down."
"Funny thing," Ray said, circling him with the crowbar. "Everyone says they don't have anything. But somebody in this store has a winning lottery ticket worth five million dollars."
"I swear, I don't know anything about—"
The crowbar came down on the kid's shoulder with a sickening crack. He screamed and collapsed, clutching his arm.
"Wrong answer," Ray said, raising the weapon again.
Through the chaos, Marie spotted Mrs. Davenport in the adjacent health and beauty aisle, calmly examining bottles of shampoo. The elderly woman read the ingredients on one bottle, compared it to another, then placed both carefully back on the shelf.
The kid's screams seemed to have no effect on her whatsoever. She moved on to examine vitamins, reading the labels with scientific precision while Ray's violence escalated just yards away.
"How is she not hearing this?" Jake whispered in horror.
Mrs. Davenport placed a bottle of multivitamins back on the shelf, then wheeled her cart full of peach cans toward the pharmacy counter, humming softly to herself as if the sounds of torture were just background music to her shopping experience.
Marie grabbed Jake's arm and began backing away slowly. She'd seen enough. More than enough.
The crowbar came down with another wet crunch. The kid's screams echoed through the store, followed by Ray's voice: "Where is it? WHERE IS THE FUCKING TICKET?"
Marie and Jake continued backing into the shadows, moving as quietly as they could. Behind them, the violence continued—more sickening crunches as the crowbar fell again and again.
"Hey," Linda's voice called out suddenly. "Where are you two going?"
Marie and Jake froze.
"Anywhere but here," Jake whispered to Marie, and they turned and headed quickly into the darkened aisle, leaving the sounds of Ray's brutality behind them.
They had to get away. Before Ray's systematic search found them. Before they became the next victims of his crowbar.
If Marie and Jake try to find Hector and warn him about Ray, go to [[Chapter 36]]
If Marie and Jake decide to hide and avoid everyone, go to [[Chapter 37]] Chapter 31 : “Ray, please!”
Marie waited until Ray's group stopped to rest in the garden centre before making her move. Ray was holding court near the fertiliser display, planning their next "interrogation" with obvious relish.
"We need to get out of here," Marie whispered to Jake. "Now, while he's distracted."
Jake nodded grimly. He'd seen enough too. "Back exit?"
They began edging toward the employee door, moving slowly to avoid drawing attention. Marie's heart hammered as they put distance between themselves and Ray's increasingly unstable group.
They almost made it.
"Where do you think you're going?" Ray's voice cut through the darkness behind them.
Marie and Jake froze. When they turned, Ray stood silhouetted against the emergency lighting, crowbar in hand. Steve and Mitch flanked him, looking uncomfortable but loyal.
"We were just—" Jake began.
"Just what? Running out on the team?" Ray stepped closer, that familiar cruel smile playing across his lips. "See, that makes me wonder what you might be hiding. Why you're so eager to get away."
Marie's blood turned to ice. Ray's eyes had locked onto Jake with new interest.
"You know what? I think it's time we had a real heart-to-heart." Ray gestured to Steve and Mitch. "Grab them."
The two men hesitated.
"I said grab them!" Ray's voice cracked like a whip.
Steve moved first, reluctantly seizing Jake's arm. Mitch followed suit with Marie, his grip apologetic but firm.
"Ray, please," Linda called from behind them. "They haven't done anything wrong."
"Haven't they?" Ray circled Jake like a predator. "Funny thing about that lottery ticket everyone's looking for. Five million dollars. Life-changing money." His eyes gleamed. "Makes a man wonder who might be carrying something that valuable."
Jake tried to back away, but Steve's grip held him fast.
"Check his pockets," Ray ordered.
"Here it is," squealed the tracksuit guy. "We got it."
Ray gave him a withering look and he handed it over without saying another word.
Ray began to walk away.
"What about them?" asked the suited guy.
"Yeah, you're right," whispered Ray as he raised his weapon. "We should kill them."
THE END Chapter 32 : Now or Never
Smoke drifted through the shattered aisle. Bodies lay sprawled where they'd fallen, broken and still. Blood painted the tiles in long streaks. The remains of Darren's charge were silent now, save for the low groans of the dying.
Marie crouched behind a toppled endcap with Jake. Both were bruised, filthy, eyes wild with adrenaline and disbelief.
"We can't just sit here," Jake whispered. He winced, clutching a bleeding cut across his ribs. "He's picking people off like it's nothing."
Marie nodded, eyes fixed on Peterson, who moved down the aisle methodically, gun low, scanning for movement. His uniform was torn, his face bloodied, but his expression was untouched by fear.
"We have to try," she breathed. "Now or never."
They crawled along the edge of the shelving, silent as shadows. Jake scooped up a splintered baseball bat from the debris. Marie still clutched the broken golf club Darren had given her. Their hands were shaking.
Peterson turned. His eyes swept past them.
"Go!" Marie hissed.
They broke cover, charging at him from opposite angles.
Peterson raised the gun.
Marie flung the club. It spun, wild and low, but caught his wrist. The blast went wide, smashing into the ceiling. Tiles and dust rained down.
Jake lunged. The baseball bat cracked against Peterson's shoulder. He staggered.
"You little—" he snarled, swinging the gun and pistol-whipping Jake across the jaw. He went down and Peterson pumped two rounds into him.
Marie tackled Peterson from behind. They crashed into a cereal display. Boxes exploded around them. She clawed for the gun.
"BITCH!" he roared.
His elbow caught her temple. She reeled, stars bursting across her vision.
Jake rose. Blood poured from his mouth and stomach, but he grabbed a can from a nearby shelf and hurled it. It struck Peterson’s face.
Marie seized the moment. Her hand found the trigger.
BOOM.
The blast hit Peterson point-blank in the chest. He screamed, a guttural sound full of rage and surprise but still managed to swing a fist into Marie's face. The gun dropped.
Jake fell on top of it.
Peterson, somehow still on his feet, grabbed Marie by the throat. She gasped, clawing at his arm.
“You Ian’t... gettin’ out," he growled.
Jake raised the gun. Fired.
Peterson’s head snapped back. He fell.
So did Jake. The gun clattered to the floor.
Marie coughed, collapsed beside Jake.
He dragged himself to wards her and they clung to each other like survivors of a shipwreck. “How’s your day going?" he asked, voice shaking.
She tried to laugh but couldn't. Blood bubbled from her lips.
Jake smiled weakly. "We did it. Bastard's dead."
Marie gripped his hand and nodded.
Then her head lolled. Her breath faltered.
Jake didn’t see Liz approach.
She moved with eerie calm. Her clothes were torn, her face streaked with ash. She knelt by Jake, checked his pulse. He didn't move.
Her hand slipped into his jacket. She found the lottery ticket.
Marie’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked. "Liz...?"
Liz met her gaze. No malice, no warmth. Just inevitability.
"Sorry," Liz whispered.
She stood, turned, and vanished into the smoke.
Marie’s last breath left her in a shallow rattle.
Darkness took her.
THE END Chapter 33 : Gunpowder and Blood
The instant the football left Darren’s hand, Marie had realised his plan was doomed. It was a goddam football. What was he thinking?
It didn’t matter now, none of it mattered.
She grabbed Jake by the collar just as he raised his club to charge. “No!” she hissed. Her fingers clamped over his mouth. “Stay down.”
More gunshots rang out. More screams.
The sounds were chaotic and unreal — like some kind of war zone. Marie and Jake crawled backward, away from the carnage, ducking behind toppled carts and broken displays. Her hands slipped on something slick and her knees burned against shards of packaging plastic. A stray round glanced off the counter nearby, sending up sparks and a burst of plaster dust. Jake flinched and covered his head. Marie gritted her teeth and pulled him forward.
They passed the slumped body of a girl — maybe sixteen — crumpled near the checkout area, her eyes beautiful but empty. A half-eaten granola bar still clutched in one hand. Jake looked away, gagging.
The stench of gunpowder and blood coated the air. There was a ringing in Marie's ears that wouldn't stop. Every footstep they took felt like it echoed through the cavernous store.
They pushed through a hanging curtain of novelty T-shirts into the dim glow of Electronics. The flickering screens cast eerie, stuttering images of smiling cartoon mascots and looping demo reels.
They tripped over a bag and almost fell on top of him —Kevin, crouched behind the counter, his hands trembled as he cradled the phone to his ear.
“Marie. Jake. You’re alive.” He smiled. “They’re coming,” he whispered. “I got through.”
Marie stared at him. “You managed to call the police?”
He nodded. “The phone had just enough power left.”
Marie’s chest tightened. Her father still had his old police scanner, a habit from his years on the force. “If my daddy heard that call go out…” she whispered. “He’ll think I’m inside.”
“You are,” whispered Jake.
“He’ll come here.”
Jake shook his head. “He’s retired, Marie. He won’t—”
“No,” she said. “He will. I need to stop him.” She snatched the phone from Kevin’s hand.
“I don’t know if there’s enough for another call,” Kevin whispered.
But Marie had already dialled and her father’s phone was ringing. “He always answers.” She looked down at the phone, the indicator lights had stopped flashing. She held it up to her ear again. “It’s out of juice.”
“That means he won’t come?” asked Jake.
“No,” sighed Marie. “it means he’s already on his way.”
The air felt heavier now, filled with dust and tension. Outside the electronics department, they heard the thump of heavy boots on broken glass. Peterson was close. His silhouette passed in front of the department’s neon signage, then vanished again into the shadows.
Marie dropped to a crouch and peered under the low shelf. Boots. Big ones. Blood on the soles. She held her breath as the shadow paused. Jake grabbed her wrist to still her shaking.
They didn’t move. For what felt like hours, they didn’t even breathe. Then — miraculously — the footsteps faded.
Jake paled. “If you go out there—”
“I have to.”
“No. The police are coming. All we have to do is wait. We just have to hide.”
She hesitated, torn.
Kevin whispered. “If you’re going to move, go soon. He’s doing circuits, I’ve been timing him. This might be your best chance.”
Marie crouched next to the counter, her breath fogging on the cool laminate. She could see Kevin had handwritten notes on the back of a receipt — timing intervals, directional guesses, a tiny hand-drawn map of the aisles. He had been tracking the killer like a soldier on recon.
A buzz of radio static drifted in from somewhere — Peterson’s walkie still picking up faint transmissions. A woman’s voice, unintelligible, was abruptly cut off by the loud thud, of what could only have been a stamping boot.
Marie flinched.
Jake leaned in close. “Please.”
Marie looked at him. His hand was still on hers. “You’ll die out there,” he said.
Her breath trembled. Her heart pounded. She imagined her father, somehow finding a way to get inside, he always found a way. He would be alone. He’d call her name. And Peterson would hear him.
She bit her lip until it bled. Jake squeezed her hand gently.
“If something happens to him because of me—”
“You didn’t bring this here,” Jake said. “That monster did. You’re not responsible.”
But she didn’t believe that. Not really.
Outside the electronics department, something crashed to the floor. Glass. Footsteps. Silence again. Then a single, wet dragging sound — like something heavy being pulled across linoleum.
Marie had to make a decision. Now.
If Marie tried to intercept her father, go to [[Chapter 38]]
If Marie stays in hiding and waits for help to arrive, go to [[Chapter 39]] Chapter 34 : Something’s Happened
Marie’s fingers shook as she dialled the number. Jake hovered beside her, watching. One ring. Two. Three.
"Come on, pick up," she whispered. “Answering machine.” She sucked in a breath and spoke, her voice cracking: "Daddy, it’s me. Something’s happened. We’re trapped inside the store. There’s a man—he's killed people. It’s bad, and we can’t get out. Please come. But be careful. Please... be careful."
BEEP. Message recorded.
Jake leaned close, his face pale. “Think he’ll get it?”
“I don’t know,” Marie said. Her chest ached.
Kevin stood nearby, watching tensely. "We should still try the police."
Marie nodded. She redialed.
The line clicked. "Westbrook PD, which service do you require?"
Marie’s voice steadied. "Police. There's an armed man inside the Value Mart in Westbrook. People are dead. We need help. Please, hurry."
No reply. She looked at the phone then at Jake. “It’s dead.”
Jake looked at the device, deflated. “You think they heard you?”
“I hope so.” Marie turned away, voice small. “If my dad didn’t receive the answer message, maybe he picked up that call on his police scanner. Either way, he won’t wait. He’ll come straight here.”
Kevin glanced around the dark store. “Armed?”
Marie nodded. “He keeps a shotgun and his old Beretta. Always said he wouldn’t go quietly into retirement.”
Jake tried to sound optimistic. “Then he’ll be ready.”
The store was quiet for a beat. Then a sound—a heavy, dragging noise. They crouched low. A silhouette moved through the dark aisle ahead.
It wasn’t Peterson.
It was Liz.
Marie squinted. The shape Liz was dragging was human, limp. A body.
Jake whispered, "Is she helping them?"
Marie said, “I don’t think that person can be helped.”
Jake stared after her. “What’s she doing then?”
Marie didn’t answer.
If Marie decides to wait near the back of the store for her father to arrive, go to [[Chapter 38]]
If Marie decides to find out what Liz is up to, go to [[Chapter 39]] Chapter 35 : A Light in the Dark
The flashlight beam cut through the gloom of the back aisle.
"Marie?"
Her father’s voice was low and urgent. He stepped into the shadows of the storeroom, shotgun in hand, flashlight clipped to the barrel. He moved like a man trained to track danger in silence—each step precise, boots barely whispering against the tiles.
Marie heard him before she saw him. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Daddy!" she called, too loud, too desperate.
He turned at the sound of her voice, their eyes locking for a split second across the gloom. A flicker of recognition passed between them—then horror.
Behind him, a shape surged forward. Peterson. Axe raised high. A blood-slick silhouette rising from the dark.
Marie screamed.
Her father pivoted instinctively, lifting the shotgun.
The axe came down.
A thunderous blast.
Peterson flew backward, the force of the shot flinging him into a display of paper towels that collapsed with a crash. He vanished into shadow, as if yanked by unseen hands.
Marie ran to her father.
He staggered, dropped the shotgun. The axe was buried deep in his shoulder, its blade angled across his chest. Blood gushed in rhythmic pulses.
“Daddy, no…”
He collapsed to his knees. Marie caught him, lowering him gently. He coughed wetly, eyes searching hers.
“You’re safe,” he rasped.
“We need help,” she said. “Just hang on.”
He tried to speak, but his mouth just trembled. His hand found hers and gripped it tight. Then it slackened.
“No. No, please.”
A dragging noise.
Marie looked up.
Somehow still crawling, blood trailing behind him like spilled ink, Peterson was alive. He reached the edge of the aisle, stood upright. The shotgun lay between them.
Marie picked it up.
Peterson laughed, weak but guttural.
Boots thundered in the distance. Bright torch lights criss-crossed in the dark.
“Drop the weapon!” someone shouted.
Marie spun. SWAT.
“He hurt him!” she yelled. “He hurt my daddy!”
Red dots danced across her chest.
“Drop it!”
She looked down. The gun was still in her hands. She lowered it slowly. Her face crumpled. “Please,” she whispered. “Help him.”
Peterson shifted behind her. Coughed up blood and grinned.
“It feels good,” he murmured. “to kill a man.”
She stared at him. Her hands twitched.
“Don’t do it!” the SWAT leader barked.
She looked back at her father. At Peterson. Her eyes changed.
She raised the shotgun.
A single shot echoed through the store like a bell tolling.
Then silence.
THE END Chapter 36 : Let’s Play
Marie and Jake found Hector in the electronics section, crouched beside Kevin who was assembling some kind of device from store components. Wires, batteries, and what looked like alarm clock parts were spread across the floor.
"You two look like you've seen hell," Hector said quietly, glancing up from where he was helping Kevin tape wires in place.
"We have," Marie said, still shaking. "Ray's completely lost it. He just beat a kid nearly to death with a crowbar, looking for the lottery ticket."
Hector's expression darkened. “It was only a matter of time before people started to turn. Peterson isn’t our only threat now.” He gestured to Kevin's work. "The boy here's a natural. He’s got the enthusiasm, eh? Thankfully I have the experience to keep him on track though."
Kevin looked up, his face flushed with excitement. "Hector's been showing me how to make the timers more stable. And the placement calculations for maximum—"
“Easy, amigo," Hector said gently, putting a steadying hand on Kevin's shoulder. "Remember what we talked about. Controlled. Precise. No unnecessary damage."
As they talked, Marie caught sight of something through the store shelving that made her question what she was seeing. In the canned goods aisle, Peterson stood next to Mrs. Davenport, who was pointing up at a high shelf. Without any apparent malice, Peterson reached up and retrieved a can of SunnyDay peaches, handing it gently to the elderly woman.
"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Davenport said pleasantly, as if being helped by a mass murderer was perfectly normal.
Peterson nodded wordlessly and continued his patrol, leaving Mrs. Davenport to examine her peaches with satisfaction.
"Did you see that?" Marie whispered to Jake.
Jake followed her gaze just in time to see Mrs. Davenport wheeling her cart away, humming contentedly. "What the hell was that about?"
Before Jake could answer, the PA system crackled to life. As Peterson's strolled away, he raised his radio to his lips and his voice filled the store with cold professionalism: “All customers, please be aware that we do not tolerate shopliftin’ at Value Mart. All thieves will be… executed.”
"You need to build something to take care of that Ray guy too," Kevin whispered to Hector.
Hector was quiet for a moment, studying his makeshift spear. When he looked up, there was something different in his eyes—a hardness that hadn't been there before. He wasn’t looking at any of them, he was staring into the darkness over Marie’s shoulder.
"Some things can't be avoided," he said simply. "Some fights choose you."
Before Marie could ask what he meant, they heard voices approaching—Ray's voice, loud and aggressive.
"Find them! They're around here somewhere!"
Hector stood, gripping his weapon. Kevin clutched his partially assembled device protectively.
"You two need to get out of here. Now," Hector said to Marie and Jake.
Ray's group appeared at the end of the aisle, weapons gleaming in the emergency lighting.
"Well, well," Ray called out. "The old man finally decided to come out and play."
If Marie and Jake try to help Hector fight Ray's group, go to [[Chapter 40]]
If Marie and Jake follow Hector's orders and run, go to [[Chapter 41]] Chapter 37 : Control
Marie and Jake had found a hiding spot in the storage area behind customer service, wedged between boxes of seasonal merchandise.
The PA system crackled overhead. Peterson's voice drifted through with chilling courtesy: “All customers, please be aware that we do not tolerate shopliftin’ at Value Mart. All thieves will be… executed.”
Then they saw a shadowy group of figures merge from the gloom. Ray's group, still hunting.
"We should have warned Hector," Marie whispered.
"We can't help anyone if we're dead," Jake replied, but his voice carried guilt.
Through the thin walls, they could hear movement in the electronics section nearby. Kevin's voice, excited and rapid: "If I increase the timer sensitivity and add more pressure plates—"
"Easy there, amigo" came Hector's calm response. “Sure, you got the enthusiasm, but we need to keep you on track or that thing could go wrong, real quick. Remember—controlled, precise. No unnecessary damage."
Marie and Jake exchanged glances. Kevin was building something dangerous, but Hector was clearly the voice of reason keeping him focused.
"What if we make multiple smaller ones instead of—" Kevin's voice was getting louder, more animated.
"Kevin." Hector's voice was firm but paternal. "One step at a time, muchacho. Let's perfect this one first."
Marie spotted something else, in the canned goods aisle, that made her do a double-take. Peterson was standing next to Mrs. Davenport, reaching up to retrieve something from a high shelf. He handed her a can of SunnyDay peaches with surprising gentleness.
"Thank you, dear," the elderly woman said pleasantly, completely unruffled by the fact that her helper was a mass murderer.
Peterson nodded and continued his patrol while Mrs. Davenport examined her peaches with satisfaction, as if this were just another routine shopping interaction.
"Did you see that?" Marie whispered to Jake.
"See what?" Jake was still focussed on Hector and Kevin’s conversation.
Before Marie could explain, the sound of Ray's approaching group cut through their conversation.
"Well, well," Ray called out, spotting Hector. "The old man finally decided to come out and play.”
Marie pressed herself deeper into the shadows as Ray's voice grew closer. Through the gap she could see the confrontation beginning to unfold in electronics. She wanted to help Hector and Kevin but Jake's grip on her arm held her back. She was forced to simply watch.
Kevin clutched his partially assembled device, wide-eyed behind his glasses, looking between Hector and Ray's advancing group.
If Marie and Jake try to help Hector despite the danger, go to [[Chapter 40]]
If Marie and Jake stay hidden and witness what happens, go to [[Chapter 41]] Chapter 38 : Light at the End
Marie moved like smoke, weaving between shadowed aisles and broken endcaps. The path Kevin had suggested was partially clear, but not without its dangers. The silence was deceptive. Every footstep sounded like a hammer blow in her ears.
Her father would come through the back.
She knew it. Years of watching him gear up, even after retirement, meant she could predict his every move. When a call went out for backup, he always positioned himself where others wouldn't think to go. If he was coming, it would be through one of the locked and bolted fire exits. He’d figure out how to dust down the door, or yank it open somehow.
She pushed through a curtain of hanging price tags and cut across the deserted kids’ toy aisle. It was surreal—pink plastic tea sets shattered on the floor, a toy pony lying on its side, its eyes forever wide in synthetic innocence. Somewhere in the far distance, a shopping cart slowly rolled, bumped a shelf, and stopped.
Marie ducked behind a fallen display and peeked around the corner. A fire exit loomed ahead. Bent, rusted slightly at the hinges, with a faded sign barely lit by a flickering emergency light. She waited, heart pounding.
Then came the muffled BOOM. A single blast. Metal tearing. A sound like thunder bottled in a tin can. The latch flew off and a padlock clattered to the floor.
A flashlight beam cut the darkness, jittering against the shelving units. Then a figure appeared, framed in the doorway. Stocky. Familiar.
"Marie?" her father called out, his voice low, taut.
Her breath caught. She was already moving before she knew it.
"Daddy! I’m over here!"
She slipped around a corner and flanked the frozen food section, her feet sliding on melted ice cream and broken packaging. Ahead, she saw his flashlight bobbing, then steadying. They were on opposite ends of an aisle.
He lowered the light, saw her, and gave the tiniest nod. Marie started walking.
"Stay there," he called.
"Okay."
Then the air shifted.
From the side aisle, like a demon erupting from the floor, Peterson surged into view, fire axe raised.
“LOOK OUT!" Marie screamed.
The axe swung in a savage arc and buried itself in her father's chest with a sickening crunch. He staggered backwards, blood pouring from the wound, shotgun dropping from his hands.
Marie tried to run, she tried to scream but nothing happened. Her knees hit tile. Her fingers reached for him, as Peterson struggled with the embedded axe.
“Run, Marie. Run.” She heard him say. His eyes already closed.
Peterson continued yanking the handle back and forth, Marie’s father, now limp, stuck to the other end. Peterson gave up and let go of the handle. Her father fell like a tree.
"DADDY!"
Somewhere to the side, a scream: "Marie! RUN!"
Liz.
Peterson turned.
He bent down, picked up the dropped shotgun, and levelled it at Marie.
Her breath caught. Time stopped.
If Marie should run toward Liz, go to [[Chapter 42]]
If Marie should retreat into the shadows and hide, go to [[Chapter 43]] Chapter 39 : Marie
Marie crept closer, the dim emergency lights casting her shadow long across the linoleum. Liz was hunched over near a toppled shelf in the cosmetics aisle, her apron streaked with something dark. Marie blinked, then realised what she was looking at.
Bodies. Three of them. At least. Liz was dragging them one at a time, lining them up carefully beside a fallen promotional display. Nearby, a pile of handbags, wallets, and phones grew steadily.
"What are you doing, Liz?" Marie asked, her voice just above a whisper.
Liz didn’t flinch. “Huh? Oh, just checking everyone, so we know who is who.”
Marie stepped closer, peering at the pile. “Are you stealing from dead people?”
Liz looked offended, eyes wide with mock outrage. “WHAT? NO WAY!”
“Jesus, keep your voice down. Peterson will hear us.”
Liz scoffed. “He’s not interested in me. I figured it out.” She dropped a wallet into the growing heap. “He only wants Jake and that ticket. That leaves all this other stuff for us.”
Marie stared. “Us?”
Liz gestured to the mess with a grin. “Right?”
A thunderous blast cracked through the air. Louder than anything they’d heard so far. It shook the walls. Echoed through the store like a cannon.
Marie ducked instinctively. “What the hell was that?”
Liz didn’t look up. “What was what?” she mumbled, now halfway through a handbag.
Marie backed away. “You’re insane.”
She turned from the gruesome tableau, moving deeper into the dark. Every aisle felt like a trap now. Shadows twitched with imagined motion. The only real sound was the soft squeal of a cart wheel.
And then she saw her.
Mrs. Davenport. Still pushing her cart. Still shopping.
She moved at a deliberate, measured pace, scanning the shelves as if seeking out a bargain rather than trying to survive a massacre. She picked up a can of something and examined it closely.
“Mrs. Davenport?” Marie whispered, barely believing it.
The old woman looked up pleasantly. “Oh, hello, sugar. They’ve moved the peaches again—I can never find anything in this place.”
Marie stared, stunned. “You’ve got to hide. It’s not safe—”
But the old woman had already turned the corner and wheeled her cart down the next aisle, humming softly to herself.
Before Marie could follow, a voice called from the shadows.
“Marie?”
Her breath caught. Recognition was immediate.
“Daddy?” she whispered back.
She moved cautiously, navigating around a stand of spilled cereal boxes. Her father’s flashlight beam cut across the darkness, jittery but unmistakable. It flicked toward her, then dipped. A signal.
She followed.
They met at the far end of an aisle near the cleaning supplies, both figures barely lit in the gloom. Marie stepped forward. Her father lowered the light and she could still make out his shape—tall, familiar, reassuring.
He opened his mouth to speak—
—and Peterson came from the side aisle like a freight train.
The axe was already in motion.
Marie screamed.
Her father spun, instincts from his years on the force kicking in. He brought up the shotgun just as the axe arced down.
A deafening blast.
Peterson flew backwards, limbs flailing, disappearing into the shadows as if he’d been kicked by a horse. He landed somewhere in the dark, the sound of his body hitting the floor swallowed by silence.
Marie ran forward.
Her father collapsed.
The axe had connected high on the shoulder and cut across his chest. He dropped to his knees, the shotgun clattering beside him. Marie caught him as he fell.
“Daddy, no—”
His eyes met hers, wide and shining. He opened his mouth but could barely form words. “You’re okay,” he rasped.
“You saved me,” she whispered. “We’re all gonna be okay.”
But the blood… there was so much.
He tried to hold her hand. His fingers twitched. Then stopped.
Marie looked up.
A shape moved in the shadows.
Peterson. Somehow still alive. Staggering. His body slick with blood, his face a mask of pulped flesh, his left arm hanging uselessly.
He picked up the shotgun with his remaining good hand.
Marie froze.
Another voice screamed.
“MARIE!”
Liz.
Marie turned just in time to see her racing from the other aisle.
Peterson raised the shotgun.
Marie had seconds to decide.
If Marie runs toward Liz, go to [[Chapter 42]]
If Marie retreats into the shadows to hide, go to [[Chapter 43]] Chapter 40 : Sixteen Years
The confrontation between Ray and Hector was just beginning when they heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. Everyone froze.
Peterson emerged from the shadows, fire axe gleaming in his hands, his dead eyes taking in the scene with cold calculation.
"Well, well," he said conversationally. "Looks like I interrupted a family reunion here."
Ray's bravado evaporated instantly. "Run!" he screamed to his group.
Steve and Mitch bolted immediately. Linda stumbled after them, terror overriding everything else. Ray himself backed away rapidly, all his earlier aggression forgotten in the face of real danger.
"Please don't hurt us!" Ray called out as he fled. "We didn't do anything!"
Peterson watched them scatter with mild amusement. Then, like a machine flicking to kill mode, he moved.
Steve was the first. Peterson swung the axe clean through the back of his neck. Blood sprayed the cereal boxes in a grotesque arc. Mitch tripped, scrambling to get away, but Peterson was already on him. One brutal chop took his leg; the next split his spine.
Linda screamed—a high, panicked wail—before she was silenced mid-note, Peterson's axe embedding deep into her chest.
Ray had almost made it to the back aisle when Peterson hurled the axe like a tomahawk. It caught Ray in the back, between the shoulder blades. He fell with a choked gasp, twitching.
Peterson retrieved the weapon at his leisure, stepping over corpses, calm as ever.
His attention settled on Hector, who stood his ground despite being abandoned by everyone else.
“You didn’t run? You got guts old man.” He held up the axe. “And we’re about to see ‘em.”
Hector straightened, gripping his makeshift spear. For a moment, Marie saw something in his weathered face—not fear, but a kind of weary resolve.
"I'm done running," Hector said quietly, almost to himself. “I won’t run from my demons no more.”
Peterson tilted his head, curious. "That so?"
"Sixteen years I've been running. From what I did. What I became." Hector adjusted his grip on the spear. "Maybe it's time to face it head-on."
Kevin pressed himself against the wall, clutching his detonator, watching in terror as his mentor faced down the killer.
Peterson smiled—a cold, empty expression. "I respect that. Most people just beg."
"I'm not most people."
Before Peterson could reply Hector lunged forward with his spear, sliding past him on his left side.
"Quicker than you look, old man." Peterson smiled before grimacing. He raised a hand to his arm. It came back red. "Try that again though."
He swung. The axe whistled through the air and smashed into the concrete floor as Hector dodged. Hector's blade sliced through Peterson's cheek, cutting his ear in half.
Peterson roared with rage and pain, blood gushing down his face and neck.
Hector had him where he wanted him. The spear caught Peterson in the shoulder, driving deep. He grunted in surprise. Seemingly too shocked to even move.
But then his eyes lit up and the axe moved swiftly, the handle breaking Hector’s nose with a sickening crunch. He staggered backwards, blood pouring down his face and eyes wet with tears. The axe fell abut Hector dodged left, instinct now keeping him alive. He swung the spear in an arc, trying to connect with anything but all the blade found was a shelf of cereal boxes. It sliced along a row, spilling golden flakes of corn on the floor. Hector, still unable to see clearly, turned towards the sound and then the axe came down again— finding its target.
Kevin screamed as Hector fell, the light fading from his eyes.
Peterson examined the wound in his shoulder with clinical interest. And touched the place where his ear had once been. He flinched at the pain. He kicked the body of the fallen warrior in anger,
Hector's lips moved soundlessly, then went still.
Peterson then turned his attention to Kevin, who was hyperventilating against the wall.
"I don't have time for any more of this shit, boy. Tell me where that goddamn college kid is with my lottery—
Kevin pressed the button on his detonator—and all hell broke loose.
The first blast tore through the aisle beside Peterson. Metal and shrapnel ripped through his leg and torso. He stumbled, roaring in pain, but before he could fall—
Boom. A second explosion sent him flying. Shelves collapsed. Fire erupted from a nearby endcap. The world shook.
Kevin dove behind cover, shielding his face as smoke and dust swallowed the aisle. Bits of cereal and scorched packaging rained down.
When the dust cleared Kevin stood slowly, shell-shocked, hands shaking.
Marie and Jake entered the aisle, wide-eyed, surveying the devastation.
They saw Hector’s broken body. Then they saw Kevin, his eyes full of rage— —and they realised this wasn’t over.
If Marie tries to talk Kevin down and get him back in control, go to [[Chapter 44]]
If Marie stays back and lets Kevin do what he needs to do, go to [[Chapter 45]] Chapter 41 : Cereal
The confrontation escalated quickly.
"You look tired, old man. Maybe you should get some sleep?" Ray's voice rang out in the narrow aisle, cold and final. He gestured sharply to the others, and they began to close in.
Hector moved with unexpected speed in the flickering half-light. Mitch barely had time to react before he screamed in agony, staring in disbelief at the bloody stump where his left hand had been a moment before. The hand itself lay twitching on the ground, still gripping the baseball bat.
Ray turned just in time to see Hector’s blade flash again. A white-hot line of pain slashed across his face, and he screamed as part of his nose dropped to the floor beside his foot. Blood poured from the gaping wound, blinding him.
The others faltered. Steve hesitated. Linda's face went pale, and her grip on her makeshift weapon loosened.
Hector paused, chest heaving. He recognised that look—the same one he'd seen in enemy soldiers decades ago. The precise moment when bravado died and the realisation set in. The stark and final knowledge that they were now looking death in the eye.
Hector’s arm thrust forwards once again and Steve grasped at his throat, blood pouring through his fingers and down his chest.
Then a sickening crack shattered the darkness.
Ray’s crowbar caught Hector across the temple with the force of a sledgehammer. The older man staggered, knees buckling, blood streaming down the side of his face. The spear slipped from his fingers, clattering against the linoleum.
"You all thought you were better than me," Ray snarled, raising the crowbar again. His eyes were wild now, blood smeared across his cheek as he stood over Hector’s body like a rabid animal.
Kevin screamed, his voice raw and breaking. "NO!"
Hector’s body jerked as the crowbar came down again. And again. Ribs cracked. Blood soaked his shirt. His face—wise, kind, weary—was now a ruin.
Something snapped in Kevin’s mind.
All the careful control, all of Hector’s patient guidance about precision and restraint—gone in an instant.
"YOU KILLED HIM!" Kevin’s voice cracked with fury and grief. His fingers slammed onto the trigger of the detonator in his hand.
The cereal display next to Mitch’s head erupted. A thunderous explosion shredded the air, sending nails and shards of metal in all directions. Mitch’s skull caved in, his scream cut off instantly as his brain painted the breakfast aisle.
Steve looked on in silence, unable to make a sound, unable to make a decision.”
BOOM.
The second trap went off, then the third. Kevin had designed the chain reaction with meticulous care, never imagining he’d use it like this. Explosions rippled down the aisle like falling dominoes, each one cruelly efficient.
Steve took the blast full-force in the chest. His torso burst open like a split watermelon, ribs and lungs flying across the shelves. Linda spun in place, screaming—but she didn’t even finish the breath. A steel spike embedded itself in her throat, dropping her instantly.
The floor shook. Shelves toppled. Boxes burst into flames. Fire alarms screeched but no sprinklers came. Dust and smoke turned the air thick as soup.
Ray stumbled backward, diving behind an endcap as the last explosion tore through the space he'd just been standing in. When the smoke cleared, he was bloodied, limping, coughing up red.
"You crazy little shit!" he choked, his voice barely more than a rasp. "You're all fucking insane!"
He disappeared into the smoke and shadows, as a final explosion ripped apart the end of the aisle.
Kevin stood amid the wreckage, unmoving. Tears streamed down his face. Blood soaked his hoodie. His breathing came in shallow, ragged bursts. Beside him, Hector’s body lay in a growing pool of red, the twisted spear inches from his outstretched hand.
Marie stared in horror. Jake stood behind her, speechless.
Kevin had just killed three people with the push of a button.
And he'd enjoyed it.
If Marie tries to comfort Kevin, go to [[Chapter 44]]
If Marie and Jake back away from Kevin in fear, go to [[Chapter 45]] Chapter 42 : Liz
Marie sprinted through the darkness towards the source of Liz’s scream and suddenly two hands thrust form the darkness and grabbed her into a side aisle.
“It’s okay, it’s just me.” Jake’s voice had never felt so good. She gave him a huge hug.
“Quick,” he said urgently. “Get down, get down.” He doesn’t know I’m here."
She clung to him like a lifeline, breath coming in sobs.
“He—he killed him,” she whispered. “He killed him. My dad…”
Jake held her tighter. “I know. I saw.”
“I thought—” She shook her head, dazed. “He shot Peterson. He saved me. But then—God, there was so much blood—”
Jake didn’t say anything. He just let her cry, quiet and shaking, into his shoulder.
“We need to go,” she said at last, breath hitching. “We need to finish this. My dad didn’t die for nothing.”
She wiped her face with her sleeve and pulled herself together. The air around them was heavy with silence and the metallic tang of blood.
Then her eyes adjusted.
She was surrounded by wallets. Purses. Phones. Stacked in small, deliberate piles on the floor.
“What… is this?”
Marie felt a pile of items beneath her feet. She knelt down and touched them with her hands. Hard, leather items. Everywhere. Several piles of wallet’s, purses and handbags.
“What is all this?” Marie whispered.
"Liz's shit."
"Where is she?"
"Here." a whispered voice behind Marie made her jump.
Liz knelt down beside her and began taking even more purses out her apron pocket and placing them carefully in a new pile. “Ted hadn’t unlocked the safe before Peterson snapped his neck.” That was an error on his part,” she said brightly. "Now the ticket is all he's got. Silly, homicidal loan shark."
“Loan shark?” said Jake.
“Oh, he’s not really the security guard. His name’s not even Peterson. It’s Jeb. He loaned me a lot of money a while back. She blinked rapidly. “A LOT of money.”
“For your gambling?” Asked Marie.
“I don’t gamble. I just do the lottery. That doesn’t count.”
“Okay okay.”
“See, I figured that if I snuck him inside, he could rough Ted up after hours, and Ted sure needed a good beating, am I right?" she didn't wait for a reply. "There would be $150,000 easy. That would clear my debt and them some." she chuckled. But then he changed the plan. He wanted more. He wanted Jake's ticket." She tapped the side of her head vigourously. "But that's okay, the plan changed but Liz can roll with the punches. I realised that once he started gunning for Jake, he wouldn’t need the money back. The money I borrowed. The interest is so much, Marie. Too much. I couldn’t, I couldn’t. Anyway, If he gets that 5 mill, he’ll forget about little old Liz, right?”
“But Liz, we can’t let—
“Oh, sure we can. I’ve figured it all out.”
“She’s gone fuckin’ nuts,” Jake whispered.
Marie stared.
Liz wasn’t whispering anymore — just talking to herself, smiling like she was explaining a game plan.
“I thought it through. If we give Jake to him, he’ll let me go.” Her voice dipped to a whisper again. “That’s what he told me.”
"Told you?"
They turned — and there he was.
Peterson stood in the archway between aisles like he’d always been there. The price gun dangled from his belt. His face was streaked with blood. His eyes — even more dead now than they were at the start of the night — locked onto Jake.
“I’m sure pleased to see you, lotto boy.” His voice was quieter now, colder. “Where’s the ticket?”
Jake held his ground, his voice shaking but still upright, spoke. “Why are you doing this?”
Peterson didn’t blink. “Plan was to rob the weekend takin’s,” he said flatly. “Woulda been clean. Until you started hollerin’ about a lottery win. Well, that changed everythin’.”
Jake stared. “But people know who you are. They’ll come looking.”
“No, they’ll find the real Peterson in the trunk of his car. My name’s Jeb. Nobody knows who I really am. Whoops, ‘cept you three.”
Jake stiffened. “You’re real name’s Jeb?”
“Indeed,” he said. “And it don’t get any realer than me.”
Peterson noticed Marie for the first time. His eyes flicked to her and a grim smile spread across his face.
“I recognise that terrified expression. That was your daddy back there, wasn't it? And this used to be his gun. He gestured to the shotgun in his hands. Never would have guessed you'd be killed by your own daddy's gun, huh?”
“Actually, he had two guns.” A voice behind him. “The one in your hand."
BANG.
Peterson slumps to the floor to reveal Liz standing behind him with Marie’s dad’s Beretta in her hand.
“And the one in mine.”
Peterson gasped for air. "You double-crossing bit—
Liz casually puts another bullet in his back and he stopped moving.
“Woah,” she gasped and then she looked down at the gun with a grin.
"How did you get my daddy's gun?" asked Marie.
"What? Oh, I was just, you know, seeing if I could help him."
"He had an axe buried in his chest."
"Yes, so he did. Shoot. You got me. I guess we both know what I was really doing."
Marie paused, her mind racing. She looked at the gun, now pointing at her and then her eyes darted back up at Liz.
"Well, Peterson, I mean Jeb, is dead. You did it Liz, I'm proud of you" The words stuck in her throat.
Lis smiled and then she looked to Jake’s pocket and her smile faded.
“I guess my debt’s cleared then."
“Yeah, we can all go home.”
"Not all of us." Liz's expression suddenly turned cold.
BANG
The bullet ripped through Jake's thigh and he crumpled to the floor.
If you think Marie should run from Liz go to [[Chapter 46]]
If you think Marie should reason with Liz go to [[Chapter 47]] Chapter 43 : The Debt
Marie remained hidden as Peterson slowly advanced on Jake, who was scrunched up against the wall.
"Well, well," Peterson said conversationally. "Look what we have here."
Liz arrived and walked straight past Peterson, as if he wasn't there. She sat down on the floor and calmly took purses and wallets from her bag and placed them in a new pile. "He doesn't care about me," she said to Jake quietly. "He only wants you and that ticket."
Peterson tilted his head.
"She ain't wrong," he said, and turned his back on Liz entirely. His eyes locked onto Jake like a predator picking his next move.
Jake looked up at him, face streaked with sweat and grime. His eyes were hollow, but there was still something burning behind them.
"Why are you doin' this?"
Peterson smiled. Not kind. Not amused. Cold.
"Original plan was to rob the weekend takin's," he said. "Would've been simple. Cash drawers, office safe. In and out. Clean." He shrugged slightly, like he was explaining a late pizza delivery. "But then you started hollerin' about a lottery ticket, and, well, the plan changed real quick after that."
Jake clenched his jaw. "You'll never get away with this, Peterson. The police—"
"They won't find me," Peterson interrupted. "They have no idea who I even am. They'll just find the real Peterson hog-tied and butchered in the trunk of his car. Actually, that reminds me, he's still breathin' in there. I'll deal with him proper when I'm done here."
"If you aren't Peterson, then who are you?"
"His name's Jeb." Liz began nodding behind him. "Yep, Jeb's a bad man. A loan shark."
"Among other things," Jeb smiled. "She owes me a lot of money."
"I do, I do. Naughty Liz."
"This will go some way to payin' off your debt, Liz."
"What?" Liz's face changed. "You said it would clear my debts."
"Well, we can discuss the finer details later."
Liz casually reached into her bag—the same bag she'd been stuffing with looted valuables all night. Her hand emerged with Marie's father's Beretta. She didn't even stand up, just looked at the gun with mild interest, then pointed it up at Peterson and cocked the hammer. He turned his head and smiled.
"Oh, Liz, guess you ain't as dumb—"
BANG.
A red mist puffed from Peterson's chest, filling the air. He dropped like a sack of cement, the shotgun clattering to the floor in front of him. His breathing was laboured and blood was pooling around him but he wasn't dead yet.
Liz turned the gun toward Jake.
"He's right, I'm not dumb." She stood slowly, brushing dust off her apron. "Come on out, Marie, I know you're there." Her hands were steady now, her eyes cold and calculating. She looked back at Jake. "Now, give me my lottery ticket."
Marie stepped out of the shadows and Jake held out his hand to stop her getting any closer.
"Aw, that's so sweet," said Liz. "He's trying to protect you, Marie. He's a keeper."
"Liz, come on..."
"I gave this place my life," Liz's expression suddenly transformed to rage. "And when my hours were cut, and the rent went up, did anyone care? No." Her voice grew harder with each word. "I started borrowing just to get by. And that guy there—" she gestured at Peterson, who was trying to get up but his severed spine suggested he wouldn't be going anywhere in a hurry "He loaned me money when I was desperate." She looked down at him. "You took advantage of me. Just like everyone does."
Jake and Marie exchanged a horrified glance.
Peterson suddenly stirred. He began to crawl towards Liz, snarling,
"I'm gonna gut you like a—"
BANG.
Liz shot him in the head, mid-sentence.
Silence.
She turned the gun on Jake and Marie. Her hands shook, but her eyes were cold.
"He's dead, Liz," Jake said softly.
Liz laughed. "Well, that's my debt cleared, I guess. Well, what I owed him anyway. I got other debts too. But it's okay because that lottery win will cover them all and then some."
Jake took a deep breath. "Sure, Liz. I'll pay off your debts. That's what friends are for, right?"
"Oh, my new best friend is going to pay off all my debts to all those other loansharks and then, what? We can all go home, is that it?"
"Yeah." Jake nodded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "That's it."
Liz laughed — dry, bitter. "Not quite. I mean, I get to go home, sure. With my ticket." She cocked the hammer back. "Hand it over. I won't ask again."
Jake pulled the ticket from his pocket and held it out. Liz snatched it and tucked it into her bloodstained apron.
"What about us?" Marie asked.
Liz tilted her head.
"You two stay here with him while I burn down the building with you all in it— nobody'll be able to tell one charred body from the next. A big ol' mess."
She stepped back toward the aisle.
"But me? I get out just in time. With five million bucks in my pocket."
She smiled. "Lucky Liz."
If you think Marie should run from Liz go to [[Chapter 46]]
If you think Marie should reason with Liz go to [[Chapter 47]] Chapter 44 : I Forgot About These
Kevin stood among the carnage, tears streaming down his face, his finger still on the trigger that had unleashed hell. Pieces of Ray's gang were scattered across the aisle, mixed with exploded cereal and twisted metal.
"Kevin," Marie said softly, stepping forward despite Jake’s warning grip on her arm. "Kevin, it’s okay. They killed Hector. You were protecting us."
Kevin looked up at her, eyes wild behind cracked glasses. "I... that was a big one…." He gestured helplessly at the destruction. "Hector always said controlled, precise. But that was a close one. We were almost…”
“We’re all okay.”
“Yeah, but I…”
“You did what you believed you had to do," Marie said, though her voice shook. The brutal efficiency of Kevin’s traps terrified her, but she could see he was coming apart and she needed to talk him down.
He scanned the shelves around them. His eyes landed on a collapsed endcap stacked with clearance boxes. He strode over and began flinging the cardboard aside.
"Kevin...?" Marie asked.
He grinned. "Oh man. I had totally forgotten about these."
From the back of the shelf, he pulled a heavy black rucksack and unzipped it. Inside were what looked like handmade grenades. A dozen. Maybe more. Neatly packed.
"Hector didn’t make all this with you, did he?" Marie whispered.
Kevin shook his head, almost proudly. "He helped with the best ones. The new ones. But these?" He lifted a grenade. "These have been here for months."
“And the traps.” Jake stared at the bag. "You wired the store before tonight, didn’t you?”
Kevin nodded. "The cereal trap? Planted last week. Some of the others even earlier. I’ve been preparing. They’re everywhere, Marie. Bullies. Thieves. Monsters. Look." He gestured at the carnage. “Look what they made me do."
Marie’s voice was steady. "Ray and his goons are all dead." She looked down at a severed foot, still in a business loafer. "I think."
Kevin’s smile twisted. "No, no, no. There are more. So many more still in here. I saw them. Hiding."
A sound echoed behind them — footsteps on broken glass. Slow. Deliberate.
Out of the smoke stepped the security guard. His uniform was torn, bloodied, but intact. His eyes gleamed. The shotgun rested casually in his hands.
Jake stared. “Peterson.”
The man chuckled. “Peterson? No, no. That poor bastard’s hogtied in the trunk of his car. Still breathing, last I checked. I gotta deal with him later, actually. Thanks for the reminder.”
Marie’s breath hitched. “Who... are you then?”
The man grinned. “Name’s Jeb. Stole ol’ Peterson’s uniform and name tags and just walked right in. Nobody questioned it. I don’t even look like that sonofabitch.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Original plan was to rob the weekend takings. Nice and quiet. But then this genius”—he nodded at Jake—“starts hollerin’ about a five-million-dollar ticket. Heck, I couldn’t turn that down, could I?”
Jake stepped forward. “You’re just a thief?”
“That hurts my feelings,” Jeb said with mock offence. “I’m not just a thief. I’m a man of many talents. That said, I’m always looking for that one big haul, ya know? And tonight, I found it.” He raised the shotgun. “Seems like ya’ll standing between me and an early retirement.”
Kevin moved with speed. He tossed a grenade — underarm, smooth, like he’d rehearsed it a hundred times. Jake and Marie instinctively dived for cover.
It rolled between Jeb’s feet.
Jeb looked down. “Aw, hell—”
The explosion flattened the aisle.
Jeb’s body hit the ceiling and came down hard, a twisted mess of limbs and bone.
Jake shielded Marie. Kevin sat up and smiled.
Silence returned.
Marie stepped over to what was left of Jeb, her breath shaking.
Kevin was already repacking the bag, his hands steady. Too steady.
“Are there more traps?” Marie gasped. “If we walk out of here now, will we be safe?”
Kevin’s grin widened.“Enough to bring the whole building down.” He looked up, eyes unfocused. “You know, I have enough in my garage to take down the whole town, if I wanted to.” His face dropped, as if realising something profound. “Maybe it all needs to burn. Westbrook has always been a dead-end town, just none of us would accept it. Until now. Now it’s all clear to me. Were all trapped, Marie. It’s all one big trap.”
Marie exchanged a glance with Jake.
Kevin wasn’t the shy geek anymore. He looked like a man who had finally found his purpose — a terrifying purpose.
If Marie tries to stop Kevin from using more bombs, go to [[Chapter 48]]
If Marie decides Kevin might be their best chance against Peterson, go to [[Chapter 49]] Chapter 45 : Homemade
Kevin’s grief hit him like a physical blow as he stared at Hector’s motionless body.
The man who had guided him… steadied him… believed in him — was gone.
The air was thick with smoke and the lingering stench of blood. Kevin barely registered the approaching footsteps until a shadow stretched across the tiles beside Hector’s body.
“Your friend put up a better fight than most,” said the security guard, battered and bloody but still as calm as anything. “I’ll give him that.”
Marie gasped. “Peterson—”
The man looked up at them. He chuckled.
“Well, we may as well drop the pretence. Now that we all friends. The real Peterson’s hogtied in the trunk of his car. I’ll finish him off later. If I remember.”
Jake froze. “You’re not—”
“Real name’s Jeb,” the man said, letting the axe rest against his shoulder. “And it don’t get any realer than me.”
Kevin stared at him — really stared — and something in his face shifted. All the careful control Hector had drilled into him, all that restraint, evaporated like steam.
“Hector’s dead,” Kevin whispered.
Jeb shrugged. “Well, he ain’t the first to die tonight. He ain’t gonna be the last either. It was all gonna be so easy. I beat that store manager with my fist and he unlocks the safe. A cool $150,000, or thereabouts. But then genius boy here,” he gestured at Jake, “starts hollerin’ about a lottery ticket. Five million dollars. That kind of money changes things.”
“Hector’s dead,” Kevin repeated, louder now.
Jeb raised an eyebrow. “Change the record, would ya, son.”
Kevin reached into his bag and pulled a small, round object. A grenade. Homemade. Wires glinting beneath transparent tape. His hands were steady.
Jeb’s eyes narrowed. He stepped back, axe shifting into a ready position.
“Don’t be stupid, kid—”
Kevin pulled the pin and hurled it underarm, perfectly aimed.
Jake tackled Marie behind a fallen shelving unit. Jeb turned and ran but he only managed to get a couple of feet.
BOOM.
The aisle vanished in a white flash and deafening roar. Debris rained down. Shelves buckled. A chunk of ceiling cracked.
When the smoke cleared, Jeb was a tangle of limbs and blood, his body torn apart by shrapnel, axe still clutched in one broken hand.
Silence.
Kevin stood, unblinking. His glasses were cracked, one arm hanging limp by his side, but his eyes were clear. Unsettlingly so.
He pulled open his bag and started counting. “One. Two. Three. At least a dozen more.” He looked around in the darkness. “One for each of them.”
Marie stepped forward. “Kevin, he’s dead. Ray and his gang are dead too. It’s over.”
Kevin smiled at her — not kindly.
“There are more. I saw them. Hiding in the aisles. In the staffroom. Behind the meat counter.”
Marie looked at Jake, heart pounding. “More of who?”
Kevin didn’t seem to hear her.
“Who made all of those grenades?”
“Hector helped with the traps. The newest ones. Hector was a craftsman. A real expert. But the rest?”
He gestured to the earlier destruction — the bodies, the craters in the cereal aisle.
“I did those by myself.”
“And they were already here… before tonight, weren’t they?” Marie said.
“Oh yeah. The cereal one? Planted last week. Some of the others? Longer. I’ve been preparing a long time. For the bullies. The monsters.”
Marie’s mouth was dry. “Kevin…”
“I know where they hide now. Darren Mitchell. Three years of ‘school shooter’ jokes. Tommy Rodriguez — stole my lunch money every damn day.” He tightened his grip on a grenade. “They’re all gonna get what’s coming.”
“Kevin, not tonight,” Marie said gently. “There are no more bullies here.”
Kevin shook his head slowly.
“They’re everywhere,” he whispered. “They’ve always been everywhere. This place — this whole place — needs to burn.”
Marie turned to Jake.
They both saw it at once: the shy, clever boy was gone.
Something else had taken his place.
If Marie tries to reason with Kevin, go to [[Chapter 48]]
If Marie and Jake back away from Kevin in fear, go to [[Chapter 49]] Chapter 46 : Run!
Marie didn't hesitate. Years of her father's training kicked in—when facing a gun, create distance and confusion.
"RUN!" she shouted, diving left toward the camping displays as Liz's gun swung toward her.
BANG! The shot went wide, shattering a pumpkin lantern display behind Marie's head. Plastic shards and bits of filament rained down.
Jake was slower to react, confusion freezing him for a crucial second. "Marie, wait—"
BANG! Marie heard Jake cry out and hit the floor, but she couldn't stop. Not yet.
She rolled behind a tent display, her heart hammering. Her breathing was loud in her ears. She smelled the burnt plastic from the exploded lanterns and the acrid, coppery scent of blood.
"Jake!" she called.
"I'm okay!" His voice was strained but alive. "She just winged me!"
Marie could hear Liz moving, her footsteps crunching over broken glass. "You can't hide forever!" Liz called. "This place is going to burn, and I'm the only one with a way out!"
Marie stayed low, crawling between scattered camping gear and dislodged rucksacks. She spotted Jake inching toward a tower of boxed coolers, blood trailing behind him.
Then she saw it.
Out in the main aisle, just past the snacks section, a strange stillness. Marie blinked and peeked again.
Peterson—no, Jeb—stood at the end of the canned goods aisle. His imposing figure unmistakable, his shirt soaked in dried blood. But instead of hunting or chasing, he was reaching calmly toward the top shelf.
Below him, Mrs. Davenport waited patiently with her shopping cart, watching him like he was just another helpful employee.
Jeb retrieved a can of SunnyDay peaches and handed it gently to the elderly woman. She accepted it with a soft, “Thank you, dear,” and placed it neatly in her basket.
Marie stared. Her mind raced. Was this real? Had the trauma finally broken her perception?
The scene passed like a hallucination. Jeb moved off, limping down another aisle. Mrs. Davenport pushed her cart in the opposite direction, humming a tuneless melody, the can of peaches nestled neatly among the other peach cans she’d already collected.
“Marie!” Jake’s urgent whisper snapped her back to the now.
She turned to him. He was on one knee now, face pale and glistening with sweat. His arm was bleeding freely. Marie scrambled over and helped him behind a shelf of folding chairs.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“Hurts like hell, but I think it’s just a graze. She’s a terrible shot.”
Marie nodded and tore off part of her sleeve to bind the wound. “That’ll have to do for now.”
“She’s got the ticket,” Jake whispered. “We need to stop her.”
Marie’s jaw clenched. “Forget the ticket. We need to survive this. That’s what my dad would’ve wanted.”
Jake nodded, his lips pressed together.
“We can’t just hide,” she added. “She’s unstable. And she’s not going to let us go.”
“Then what’s the plan?”
Marie peered around the edge of the aisle. Liz was pacing nearby, muttering to herself. Her silhouette moved between the scattered displays like a shark circling prey.
“She thinks she has control,” Marie said. “That’s her weakness.”
Jake glanced at her. “We turn the tables?”
She nodded. “Exactly. We have to catch her off-guard.”
He flexed his arm, winced. “I can move. Just tell me what to do.”
They exchanged a look—something sharp and wordless—and Marie felt something harden inside her.
They weren’t done yet.
If they should attack Liz directly before she can react go to [[Chapter 50]]
If they should try to outmanoeuvre her go to [[Chapter 51]] Chapter 47 : We Can Work it Out
Marie forced herself to stay calm, thinking of all the times her father had talked down dangerous situations. She took a slow step forward, hands raised in front of her.
"Liz, please. We can work this out."
"Work it out?" Liz laughed bitterly. "Like you worked out getting me more hours when I needed them? Like you worked out how I could pay my rent this month? You’ve never worked out anything for me. Why start now?”
Marie nodded slowly. "You're right. I failed you. We all did. But we don’t have to let this end in more blood. We can still—"
"You don't know anything," Liz snapped. But she hadn't fired yet. The barrel of the Beretta dipped ever so slightly. Marie saw the crack there, the fraying edge of Liz's resolve, and pressed on.
Jake steadied himself though the obvious pain. “You want the ticket? Fine. Take it. We won’t fight you.”
“Jake, no,” Marie whispered, alarm flaring.
“It’s just money, Marie. I don’t want to die for it.” Jake’s fingers inched toward his jacket pocket.
“Don’t move!” Liz barked, her grip tightening. But her voice wavered.
“I’m just getting the ticket,” Jake said gently. “That’s what you want, right? To be free of all this?”
“I... I never wanted to hurt anyone,” Liz murmured. Her hands trembled. “I just... I can’t go back to that life. I can’t.”
Jake’s hand emerged with the lottery ticket. Blood from his had seeping into the paper. He held it out like a peace offering. “Please, just take it and go. Disappear. Start over somewhere else." He grimaced. "You deserve it”
“Yeah, I deserve it.” Liz stared at the crumpled and bloodied paper in his fingers, eyes wide, lips parted. Her face flickered—hope, desperation, disbelief. She slipped it into her pocket and smiled. For a moment, it looked like she might actually turn around and just walk away.
Her voice changed. “You think I’m stupid don't you?”
Marie turned to find Liz’s face twisted with suspicion. The crack was gone. Her eyes were hard again.
“The moment I let you go, you’ll call the cops. You’ll turn me in.”
“We won’t,” Marie said quickly. “We just want to go home. That’s it.”
“I can’t risk it.”
Liz pulled the trigger.
BANG!
Jake screamed and crumpled, grabbing his arm. Blood burst through his fingers. Fear tearing across his face.
Marie shrieked and caught him, nearly falling under his weight.
“I’m sorry!” Liz said, almost frantic. “But I can’t take that chance!”
A second shot rang out—BANG!—shattering the shelf beside them. Tins of beans and soup clattered like hail. A third whizzed past Marie's head.
Marie looped Jake’s arm over her shoulder and ran.
Together, they stumbled down the aisle, deeper into the darkened store. Fluorescent bulbs buzzed and flickered overhead. Somewhere behind them, Liz’s footsteps crunched across broken glass.
“Don’t make me do this!” she called. “Just give me the ticket and it all ends!”
They ducked behind the clearance bins, breathing hard. Jake clutched at his leg, his face pale with pain.
Marie peeked over the display. Liz stood at the junction of the aisles, silhouetted in the red glow of a flickering lights but she didn’t move.
Then, movement in the opposite aisle. Mrs. Davenport and her squeaky trolley full of cans.
But something else was moving further down the same aisle. Peterson. His hulking figure in motion.
Marie’s heart seized.
But instead of hurting Mrs. Davenport, he stopped next to her. She was pointing up at a shelf and talking to him.
Marie’s breath caught.
He reached up with a bloodied hand and retrieved a can of SunnyDay peaches from the highest shelf. He placed it gently into Mrs. Davenport’s waiting cart.
“Thank you, dear,” the old woman said pleasantly, as if he were just a helpful clerk.
Peterson gave her a slow nod, and walked on without a word.
Marie and Jake moved deeper into the darkness, where they could see flames beginning to rise. Liz was setting fire to a pile of scatter cushions using a scented candle.
“She’s going to burn the place down,” Marie whispered.
Jake grimaced, trying to stay upright. “She’s lost it.”
“What do we do?” Jake asked.
Marie looked around, eyes darting between the flickering lights, the growing smoke, and Liz’s position.
“We make a choice.”
If they should attack Liz directly before she can react go to [[Chapter 50]]
If they should try to outmanoeuvre her go to [[Chapter 51]] Chapter 48 : Justice
"Kevin, listen to me," Marie said, keeping her voice calm and steady. "Peterson is dead. The people who hurt you tonight are gone. You don't need to do this."
Kevin looked at her with those wild eyes, a grenade clutched in his hand. "You don't understand. This isn't just about tonight. This is about justice."
"Justice?" Marie took a careful step closer. "Or revenge?"
"What's the difference?" Kevin's voice cracked. "Darren Mitchell used to shove me into lockers every day. Called me 'Unabomber' because I was quiet. Funny how right he was, isn't it?"
Marie felt Jake tense beside her. "Kevin, Darren is already dead."
"I know!" Kevin's laugh was unhinged. "But there are others. Tommy Rodriguez, who stole my lunch money. Sarah Opie, who laughed when Brad Hoffman pantsed me in PE. Coach Williams, who told me to 'man up' when I reported it."
He was reciting names like a grocery list, each one accompanied by a specific grievance burned into his memory.
"They're not even here, Kevin," Marie said gently. "This is just a store. Just random people trying to survive."
Kevin paused, seeming to consider this. Then his expression hardened again. "Oh, they're here. Everyone is someone's bully. Everyone has hurt someone weaker than them."
A sound echoed from the housewares section—someone moving, trying to stay quiet.
Kevin's head snapped toward the noise, his grip tightening on the rucksack. "There. You hear that? That's him. That's Brad."
"Kevin, wait—" Marie started.
But Kevin was already moving, pulling the pin from the grenade using his teeth. He spotted a crouching figure in the darkness. "BRAD HOFFMAN!" he shouted. "Remember when you held me down while your friends drew dicks on my face with permanent marker?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" a terrified voice called back. "I'm not whoever you think I am!"
Kevin paused for just a moment, doubt flickering across his face.
Then he hurled the grenade anyway.
"Doesn't matter," he said as the explosion lit up the store. "You would have done it too, given the chance."
If Marie realises Kevin is completely beyond reason and runs, go to [[Chapter 52]]
If Marie tries one last desperate attempt to stop him, go to [[Chapter 54]] Chapter 49 : Bullies
Marie stared at the destruction around them, the reality hitting her. "How long since you called the police, Kevin? They should be here by now!"
Kevin looked up from his bag of grenades, that same unsettling smile on his face. "Oh, I didn't ring anyone."
"What?" Jake stared at him in disbelief.
"I broke open the phone and used some of the components to make boobytraps instead." Kevin shrugged casually. "We don't need the police. We can deal with all these bullies ourselves."
"Bullies?" Marie's voice was barely a whisper.
"Everyone's a bully, Marie. Even you have your moments. Don't worry though, you aren't on my list."
"He has a list?" Jake whispered.
Marie grabbed Jake's arm and they began backing away slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements that might draw Kevin's attention.
Kevin was muttering to himself now, counting the grenades in his bag like a child with Halloween candy. "Let's see... Brad Hoffman, definitely. Tommy Rodriguez if he's still here. That bitch Sarah Opie..." His voice grew louder, more agitated. "They all deserve what's coming."
Marie and Jake made it to the end of the aisle before Kevin's head snapped up, his wild eyes locking onto them.
"Where are you going?" Kevin asked, his voice eerily calm. "You're not bullies. You were always nice to me." He paused, considering. "Well, you ignored me mostly. But that's better than the others."
"We're just... we need to check on something," Marie said carefully.
Kevin nodded as if this made perfect sense. "Good idea. Stay out of the way. This is going to get messy."
He pulled the pin from a grenade and called out into the store: "BRAD HOFFMAN! I know you're in here somewhere! Remember freshman year? Remember what you did in the locker room?"
A terrified voice echoed from housewares: "I don't know who you're talking about! Please, I'm not Brad!"
Kevin paused, tilting his head like a confused dog. For a moment, doubt flickered across his face.
Then he shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You sound like him. That’s close enough."
He hurled the grenade toward the voice.
The explosion was deafening. When the smoke cleared, Kevin was already reaching for another grenade, his face lit with sick satisfaction.
"One down," he announced cheerfully. "Who's next?"
Marie and Jake used the chaos to slip away, but they could hear Kevin moving through the store behind them, calling out names, hurling death at anyone unlucky enough to cross his path.
"SARAH OPIE! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"
Another explosion. Another scream cut short.
Kevin had become something far worse than Peterson ever was. At least Peterson had been methodical, professional. Kevin was unhinged. And he was enjoying it.
If Marie and Jake try to escape the store entirely, go to [[Chapter 53]]
If they decide they have to stop Kevin somehow, go to [[Chapter 55]] Chapter 50 : I Told You
Marie didn't hesitate. "Now!" she hissed to Jake.
They lunged at Liz simultaneously. Jake dove for her gun arm while Marie tackled her around the waist. The three of them crashed to the floor in a violent tangle. Liz screamed, thrashing beneath them, the gun clutched tightly in her hand.
Jake gritted his teeth, straining to wrest the weapon from her grip. "Get it, Marie!"
Marie grabbed Liz’s wrist, trying to force it down, but Liz bucked hard, twisting her hips. Jake let out a sharp cry as…
BANG!
He collapsed with a grunt, blood spurting from a fresh wound in his abdomen. He rolled away, clutching his side.
"Jake!" Marie screamed.
Liz snarled and slammed her elbow into Marie’s jaw, dazing her. Marie tried to recover, but Liz was already on top of her, straddling her chest, pinning her to the linoleum with the Beretta pressed against her forehead.
"I told you," Liz panted, her breath coming fast. "I’m not going back. I’m not getting evicted. I’m not dying broke while someone else wins five million dollars."
The fire was growing now — flames licked the nearby soft furnishings aisle, casting flickering shadows over Liz's face. Smoke curled above them, and alarms began to wail in high, stuttering bursts.
"He said I was smart," Liz whispered. "Said I had potential. But you all laughed, didn’t you? Even you, Marie. You looked at me like I was pathetic."
Marie could hardly breathe. Liz’s knees pressed into her ribs, the weight unbearable, the hot metal of the gun barrel burning her skin and smell the gunpowder still clinging to it.
In the distance, through the smoke and firelight, came a new sound—
"POLICE! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!"
Liz froze.
The sound of boots thundered across the store’s tiled floor. Flashlights sliced through smoke. A red laser dot landed on Liz’s forehead.
"DROP THE WEAPON!" came the shout from behind the lights.
Liz didn’t move.
Marie’s heart pounded so hard she thought it would burst.
Then Liz unexpectedly raised the gun toward the voice.
The response was instant. Muzzle flashes lit the aisle like lightning. The roar of gunfire was deafening. Liz’s body jerked and spasmed as bullets tore through her. Blood sprayed across Marie’s face and pooled beneath her.
Then silence.
Liz’s corpse slumped forward and the gun clattered to the ground beside Marie’s head. The fire crackled in the growing quiet.
“SHOW US YOUR HANDS!” a SWAT officer shouted.
Marie raised her arms weakly.
Across the aisle, Jake moaned in pain, clutching his side.
The lottery ticket, now soaked with Liz’s blood, peeked from her jacket pocket.
"HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!" an officer yelled at Marie and Jake.
If Marie tries to grab the lottery ticket before the police stop her, go to [[Chapter 56]]
If Marie and Jake comply immediately and identify themselves, go to [[Chapter 58]] Chapter 51 : Won’t Be Pretty
Marie pressed herself against Jake behind the tent display, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. Liz was still out there, stalking the aisles with a loaded gun and nothing left to lose. Smoke drifted low along the ceiling now, thick and acrid. The fire was spreading.
"We can't just run," Marie whispered. "She'll pick us off one by one."
Jake winced, blood soaking the fabric around his shoulder. "What do we do?"
Marie scanned the camping section around them. "We turn this place into a trap."
She pointed to a jerry can of camping fuel on a nearby shelf. Across from it sat a bin of emergency lighters and matches. Two aisles over, she spotted the tool section—nail guns hanging in blister packs.
"Think you can use one of those?"
Jake nodded. "Won't be pretty. But yeah."
They moved fast but quiet, sticking to shadows. Marie grabbed the fuel, unscrewed the cap, and stuffed a rag inside. Jake found a battery-powered nail gun and jammed in a strip of three-inch framing nails.
"You distract her," Marie said. "Get her talking. Lead her past me. I'll soak her with fuel, you hit her with a nail. Then we light her up."
Jake gave a tight nod, his face pale but resolute. "Let's do it."
They split up. Marie crouched low beside the aisle endcap, ready. Jake circled wide, keeping cover between him and Liz.
"LIZ!" he shouted, voice hoarse. "Come on, it's over! I have a plan for us to get out of here!”
Liz appeared like a ghost between clothing racks, gun raised, smile twitching with tension. Her hair was matted with sweat, apron soaked in blood.
"You think talking's going to fix this?" she shouted. "You think I'm going to walk away?"
"You don't want more blood on your hands," Jake said, stepping out slowly, hands raised. "You said you wanted to survive. Here's your chance."
Marie crept behind a cardboard cutout of a hiker, waiting. She held the jerry can tight, breath held.
“I can’t leave you two here.”
“We know. Let us help you."
“Help me?” Liz hesitated. “How?”
Marie struck.
She leapt out and hurled the contents of the jerry can across Liz's back and shoulders. The chemical splash made Liz shriek in shock and stumble forward.
“The fuck?”
Jake squeezed the trigger. Thunk.
The nail hit Liz square in the forehead but didn’t pierce—it buried halfway into her skull and stuck. She staggered, dazed, one hand going to the nail.
Marie didn’t wait. She struck a match from a stormproof box and flicked it at Liz’s chest.
Whoof.
Fire spread like spilled ink. Liz screamed, flailing, gun still in hand as her upper body became a torch.
She turned on Marie.
"You bitch!"
She fired one bullet, then another, missing each time and then she charged, flames licking her hair and sleeves, eyes wild with pain and rage. Marie backpedaled, but Liz grabbed her, dragging her to the ground.
They struggled in a swirl of fire and smoke. Liz landed on top, the gun in one hand, flame still crawling up her side.
She jammed the barrel between Marie’s eyes. Screaming in agony as she pulled the trigger again and agin. But the gun was empty.
The flames reached nearby shelves. Tents curled and blackened. Polyester sleeping bags caught fire.
Marie stared up at her, unable to shake her off, the heat blistering her skin.
Then came the sound—
BOOM.
The front security shutters exploded inward. Flashlights cut through the smoke. A voice thundered:
"POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPON!"
Intense flashlight beams found Liz instantly. A dozen SWAT helmets crested the smoke like sharks.
"DROP IT NOW!"
Liz froze. Perhaps she could hear the voices, but her eyes were now melting in her skull, there was no way she could see anything. The gun still pointed at Marie, what remained of Liz’s face cracked into a smile—bloody, blistered, mad.
She raised the useless gun toward the voices.
Gunfire thundered through the store. Liz’s body jerked violently, riddled with bullets, until she crumpled sideways onto the tile.
Marie rolled free, coughing, heart slamming against her ribs.
“SHOW US YOUR HANDS!”
She raised them slowly, shakily.
Jake staggered from behind a rack, face pale, holding his shoulder. He collapsed next to her.
In front o them lay Liz’s still burning body.
A charred scrap of paper fluttered from her apron pocket, drifting to the floor in a slow spiral. The lottery ticket.
If Marie does what the police tell her to do, go to [[Chapter 57]]
If Marie tries to grab the lottery ticket from Liz’s burning body, go to [[Chapter 59]] Chapter 52 : Now
Marie realised there was no reasoning with Kevin anymore. He was completely beyond reach, lost in his fantasy of revenge against a world that he believed had wronged him.
"We have to go," she whispered to Jake. "Now."
They turned and ran, but Kevin's head snapped up at the sound of their footsteps.
"Hey!" he called after them. "Where are you going?”
Marie and Jake sprinted through housewares, weaving between displays, heading for the back exit. Behind them, they could hear Kevin's footsteps, surprisingly fast for someone who'd always seemed so awkward.
"MARIE! JAKE!" Kevin's voice had changed, taking on a sing-song quality that was somehow worse than his earlier rage. "You don't want to run from me! I'm not mad at you!"
They reached the employee corridor, the emergency exit just ahead. Marie's hand was on the door handle when Kevin appeared behind them, breathing hard but smiling.
"I said don't run," Kevin panted, pulling the pin from a grenade. "Running makes you look guilty. Makes you look like... like them."
"Kevin, please," Marie said, pressing her back against the exit door. "We're your friends."
"Friends don't run away," Kevin replied, his voice taking on a hurt, childlike quality. "Friends stick around. Friends care about justice."
"We do care—"
"No, you don't." Kevin's expression hardened. "You're just like all the others. You only pretended to be nice because you felt sorry for me. Poor little Kevin, so weird, so pathetic."
He raised the grenade. "Well, I'm not pathetic anymore."
The explosion in the narrow corridor was devastating. Marie and Jake had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Kevin stood in the smoke and debris, looking down at what remained with cold satisfaction.
“Nobody’s going to pity me anymore," he said quietly.
THE END Marie and Jake ran through the darkened store, Kevin's voice echoing behind them as he continued his rampage.
"TOMMY RODRIGUEZ! You can't hide forever!"
Another explosion shook the building, followed by screams that cut off too quickly.
"The emergency exit," Marie gasped, pulling Jake toward the back of the store. "We can get to the parking lot."
They reached the employee break room and pushed through to the back corridor, finding the emergency exit that someone had forced open earlier in the night.
Cool night air hit their faces as they stumbled outside. Marie's car sat in the parking lot where she'd left it before her shift, keys in her purse.
"Come on," Marie whispered, but Jake was looking back at the store.
"We can't just leave," he said. "There are still people in there."
"Kevin will kill us too if we go back. You heard him—he's completely insane."
Another explosion lit up the store's windows from inside. Kevin's voice carried through the broken emergency door, growing more distant as the building began to burn.
Marie climbed into her car and started the engine. After a moment's hesitation, Jake got in beside her.
As they drove away, Marie watched the store burning in the rearview mirror. They'd survived, but at what cost? Kevin had become a monster. And they were running again.
But they were alive. Sometimes that's enough.
If Marie decides to leave town with Jake immediately, go to [[Chapter 60]]
If Marie wants to stay and deal with the aftermath first, go to [[Chapter 61]]Chapter 54 : Keep on Running
Marie and Jake ran through the darkened store, Kevin's voice echoing behind them as he continued his rampage.
"TOMMY RODRIGUEZ! You can't hide forever!"
Another explosion shook the building, followed by screams that cut off quickly.
"The emergency exit," Marie gasped, pulling Jake toward the back of the store. "We can get to the parking lot."
They reached the employee break room and pushed through to the back corridor, finding the emergency exit that someone had forced open earlier in the night.
Cool night air hit their faces as they stumbled outside. Marie's car sat in the parking lot where she'd left it before her shift.
"Come on," Marie whispered, but Jake was looking back at the store.
"We can't just leave," he said. "There are still people in there."
"Kevin will kill us too if we go back. You heard him—he's completely insane."
Another explosion lit up the store's windows from inside. Kevin's voice carried through the broken emergency door, growing more distant as the building began to burn.
Marie climbed into her car and started the engine. After a moment's hesitation, Jake got in beside her.
As they drove away, Marie watched the store burning in the rearview mirror. They'd survived, but at what cost? Kevin had become a monster. And they were running again.
But they were alive. Sometimes that's enough.
If Marie decides to leave town with Jake immediately, go to [[Chapter 60]]
If Marie wants to stay and deal with the aftermath first, go to [[Chapter 61]] Chapter 53 : The List
Marie looked at Jake, seeing the same grim determination in his eyes that she felt. "We can't let him keep killing people."
"What can we do? He's got grenades, and we've got nothing."
"We've got to try." Marie scanned the area around them. "Maybe we can create a distraction, get him away from the other survivors."
They crept back toward the electronics section where Kevin was systematically hunting. His voice echoed through the aisles as he called out names, but it was getting more distant.
"He's moving toward the front of the store," Jake whispered. "If we can get to the back exit..."
They found two other survivors cowering in the stockroom - an elderly couple who looked terrified but unharmed.
"This way," Marie whispered, leading them toward the emergency exit. "Stay quiet."
Behind them, Kevin's voice grew fainter as he continued his rampage in the front sections. "COACH WILLIAMS! Time for your performance review!"
Another explosion shook the building, but they were far enough away now. Marie smashed the padlock on the emergency exit door and pushed it open. The cool night air hit their faces.
"My car's right there," Marie said to the elderly couple. "We can get you somewhere safe.”
“It’s okay,” said the old man. “The car next to yours is ours. The old woman settled into the passenger seat of the other car and the old man paused to thank Marie for saving them both. He gave her a brief hug and she squeezed him tightly. “I love you, Daddy.” She whispered. As he eased from her embrace the old man didn’t correct her. He just touched her cheek gently and smiled.
Marie and Jake Waited until the old couple had pulled out of the lot before getting into Marie’s car. As they drove away, she watched the store burning in the rearview mirror. Kevin was still in there, still hunting. The building was starting to collapse from his explosions. Others would die, Kevin too probably.
The sound of sirens appeared over the horizon, the blue emergency service lights casting a blue hue on the crest of the hill, like the approaching dawn.
Jake had been right, there wasn’t anything else they could do. Perhaps surviving the night was enough.
If Marie decides to leave town with Jake immediately, go to [[Chapter 60]]
If Marie wants to stay and deal with the aftermath first, go to [[Chapter 61]] Chapter 55 : Nothing Personal
Marie looked at Jake, seeing the same grim determination in his eyes that she felt. "We can't let him keep killing people."
"What can we do? He's got grenades, and we've got nothing."
"We've got to try." Marie scanned the area around them. "Maybe we can distract him, get one of those grenades away from him."
They crept back toward the electronics section where Kevin was systematically hunting through the store. His voice echoed through the aisles as he called out names.
"SARAH OPIE! I know you're here somewhere! Remember when I asked you to the prom? You just laughed at me.”
They found Kevin near the camping section, methodically checking behind displays with a grenade in each hand. He looked almost peaceful now, like someone doing routine maintenance.
"Kevin," Marie called out, stepping into view. "This has to stop."
Kevin turned, his face lighting up with genuine pleasure. "Marie! Jake! I thought you left. Good, you should see this. You should see justice being done."
"These aren't the people who hurt you," Jake said, gesturing toward the destruction Kevin had already caused. "You're killing innocent people."
"Innocent?" Kevin laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the damaged store. "Nobody's innocent. Everyone's hurt someone weaker. Everyone's stood by and watched while someone else suffered."
He pulled the pin from one grenade using his teeth and then spat it onto the floor. "Even you two. How many times did you see Darren or Tommy or the others picking on someone and just... walked away?"
Marie felt a chill of recognition. He wasn't entirely wrong.
"That doesn't mean we deserve to die," she said.
"Doesn't it?" Kevin cocked his head, considering. "Well, maybe not. You were nicer than most. But you're getting in the way now, trying to stop me doing the good work."
He raised the grenade, that same childlike smile spreading across his face.
"Don't take it personally."
Jake lunged forward, trying to tackle Kevin before he could throw. But Kevin was ready for it. The grenade left his hand just as Jake reached him.
The explosion caught all three of them. In the end, Kevin got his justice after all.
THE END Chapter 56 : A Quiet Life
Across from Marie, Liz’s body steamed where the fire had licked her. The gun lay inches from her outstretched hand. Her blood was soaking into the tiles, sticky and dark. The ticket hung limp from her pocket, half-scorched, fluttering slightly in the draft from the shattered entrance. every instinct screamed at her to grab it. Five million dollars, just lying there in the blood. It almost didn’t seem real.
"Hands up! Don't move!" the SWAT officers barked, advancing through the swirling haze of smoke and halogen light.
But her father's voice echoed in her mind: Some things aren't worth dying for. Marie slowly raised her arms. Her hands felt like stone.
Jake did the same beside her, his face pale, streaked with blood and soot. He was shaking badly, his wounded leg dragging behind him as he moved to kneel with effort. He looked at her with wide, glassy eyes, then at the fallen Liz.
“She was trying to kill us!” Jake blurted. “She wanted my ticket—my winning lottery ticket!”
Marie turned her head sharply toward him, eyes wide. “Jake, no—”
But he was already reaching for the pocket.
“Stop!” Marie hissed, lunging toward him, trying to grab his shoulder.
Too late.
“Suspect going for a weapon!” one of the officers shouted.
“No—wait, he's not—!”
The gunfire was instant and overwhelming.
Marie felt the bullets tear through Jake’s body as he collapsed forward onto Liz. She screamed and flung herself toward him—
—and the world exploded again.
She felt the impact before she heard it. Something punched through her chest, then her stomach, then everything went numb. She landed across Jake, her cheek pressed to the blood-wet tile. His hand was still twitching.
She tried to reach for it. Couldn’t.
Memories flickered. Her dad helping her ride a bike. Laughing with Jake behind the tills. The feel of the store’s break room vinyl against her skin during one of those long, mindless shifts.
The stench of burning plastic stung her eyes. Somewhere close by, the fire alarm shrieked into the dark.
The officer who had fired stepped over them. He crouched beside Liz, pulled the ticket from her apron pocket with a gloved hand, then looked at what he’d done.
Marie’s gaze met his as blood filled her mouth.
He hesitated. Then, slow and deliberate, he slipped the ticket into his vest.
“Evidence,” he muttered with a wink to his partner.
Jake’s eyes were already glassy. Marie blinked once, her vision narrowing to a tunnel of light and shadow.
She heard boots. Sirens. Distant shouting. Felt nothing.
She thought of the ticket, of her father, of a quiet life that could have been.
Then it was gone.
THE END Chapter 58: Aftermath
Marie stared at the lottery ticket in Liz's jacket pocket, every instinct screaming at her to grab it. Five million dollars, just lying there in the blood. It almost didn’t seem real.
Smoke curled around her face. Her fingers twitched.
But her father's voice echoed in her mind: Some things aren't worth dying for.
Across from her, Liz’s body steamed where the fire had licked her. The revolver lay inches from her outstretched hand. Her blood was soaking into the tiles, sticky and dark. The ticket hung limp from her pocket, half-scorched, fluttering slightly in the draft from the shattered entrance.
"Don't move!" the SWAT officers barked, advancing through the swirling haze of smoke and halogen light.
Marie slowly raised her arms. Her hands felt like stone.
Jake did the same beside her, his face pale, streaked with blood and soot. He was shaking badly, his wounds still leaking. He looked at her with wide, glassy eyes, then at the fallen Liz.
Boots thundered against tile. Shadows cut across the flashlights’ beams. The officers fanned out, clearing aisles and checking corners. Red laser sights flicked over Marie’s face and away again.
They were surrounded.
Weapons lowered, but not all the way.
An officer roughly patted Jake down, then another grabbed Marie’s wrists and zipped plastic cuffs around them. “For your own safety,” he muttered, already looking past her.
She barely felt it.
The air was thick with smoke and silence now—no gunfire, no screaming, just the heavy breathing of survivors and the professional murmur of tactical chatter.
Marie glanced back at Liz. One of the officers knelt beside the body, checking for a pulse he surely knew he wouldn’t find.
"Quick, it's burning!" Jake called to no one in particular. "It's in her pocket—grab it before it burns!"
The officer glanced over at him but didn’t say anything word.
”She was trying to kill us!" Jake whispered. "She wanted my ticket—my winning lottery ticket!"
The officer hesitated—then reached into the bloodied apron, pulled something out, looks at it for a moment and then slid it into his pocket. A small, folded rectangle of burnt and crumpled paper. Then he slowly turned—and looked straight at Jake.
Jake looked away first.
Then Marie’s eyes locked with his. For a second, neither moved. Finally, Marie gave the faintest of nods. Then she looked down.
It was like Jake had said to Liz. They just wanted to live.
Later, on the news, they would say Officer Dennis Mitchell had won the five-million-dollar lottery jackpot. What incredible luck he had said to the reporter.
Marie never said a word.
After all, who would believe her?
Outside, paramedics loaded Jake onto a stretcher, his leg bandaged and elevated, his arm in a sling.
Marie sat beside him, her own cuts and bruises being tended to by another EMT. Neither of them spoke at first. The flashing lights of emergency vehicles painted the shattered storefront in pulses of red and blue.
Then Jake turned to her.
"Come with me," he said quietly. "Let’s leave this place. Get out before it finds another way to bury us."
Marie looked at him, the sound of sirens echoing in her ears. She didn’t answer—not yet. But her hand found his, and she didn’t let go.
If you think Marie should take Jake up on his offer to leave town together right now, go to [[Chapter 60]]
If you think Marie should stay for a while to consider what’s best to do next, go to [[Chapter 61]]
Chapter 58 : The Aftermath
Marie stared at the lottery ticket in Liz's jacket pocket, every instinct screaming at her to grab it. Five million dollars, just lying there in the blood. It almost didn’t seem real.
Smoke curled around her face. Her fingers twitched.
But her father's voice echoed in her mind: Some things aren't worth dying for.
Across from her, Liz’s body steamed where the fire had licked her. The Beretta lay inches from her outstretched hand. Her blood was soaking into the tiles, sticky and dark. The ticket hung limp from her pocket, half-scorched, fluttering slightly in the draft from the shattered entrance.
"Don't move!" the SWAT officers barked, advancing through the swirling haze of smoke and halogen light.
Marie slowly raised her arms. Her hands felt like stone.
Jake did the same beside her, his face pale, streaked with blood and soot. He was shaking badly, his wounds still leaking. He looked at her with wide, glassy eyes, then at the fallen Liz.
Boots thundered against tile. Shadows cut across the flashlights’ beams. The officers fanned out, clearing aisles and checking corners. Bright flashlight beams flicked over Marie’s face and away again.
They were surrounded.
Weapons lowered, but not all the way.
An officer roughly patted Jake down, then another grabbed Marie’s wrists and zipped plastic cuffs around them. “For your own safety,” he muttered, already looking past her.
She barely felt it.
The air was thick with smoke and silence now—no gunfire, no screaming, just the heavy breathing of survivors and the professional murmur of tactical chatter.
Marie glanced back at Liz. One of the officers knelt beside the body, checking for a pulse he surely knew he wouldn’t find.
"Quick, it's burning!" Jake called to no one in particular. "It's in her pocket—grab it before it burns!"
The officer glanced over at him but didn’t say anything word.
”She was trying to kill us!" Jake whispered. "She wanted my ticket—my winning lottery ticket!"
The officer hesitated—then reached into the bloodied apron, pulled something out, looks at it for a moment and then slid it into his pocket. A small, folded rectangle of burnt and crumpled paper. Then he slowly turned—and looked straight at Jake.
Jake looked away first.
Then Marie’s eyes locked with his. For a second, neither moved. Finally, Marie gave the faintest of nods. Then she looked down.
It was like Jake had said to Liz. They just wanted to live.
Later, on the news, Marie would hear about Officer Dennis Mitchell winning the five-million-dollar lottery jackpot. What incredible luck he would say to the reporter.
But now, as paramedics loaded Jake onto a stretcher, his leg bandaged and elevated, his arm in a sling, she knew full well it was her and Jake who were the luckiest people in the world.
She sat beside him, her own cuts and bruises being tended to by another EMT. Neither of them spoke at first. The flashing lights of emergency vehicles painted the shattered storefront in pulses of red and blue.
Then Jake turned to her.
"Come with me," he said quietly. "Let’s leave this place. Get out before it finds another way to bury us."
Marie looked at him, the sound of sirens echoing in her ears. She didn’t answer—not yet. But her hand found his, and she didn’t let go.
If you think Marie should take Jake up on his offer to leave town together right now, go to [[Chapter 60]]
If you think Marie should stay for a while to consider what’s best to do next, go to [[Chapter 61]] Chapter 57 : The Exit
The fire wasn’t a thing behind them anymore.
It was all around.
Flames surged up the aisles like rising tides. Metal groaned, plastic melted, lights burst from their sockets with sharp popping sounds like gunfire. Smoke spun through the air, thick and hot and full of choking ash. The heat had weight now — it pressed on their skin, filled their mouths, bent their backs.
Jake stumbled beside her. “I’m sorry, Marie,” he gasped. “We’re gonna die here. I should’ve known… nobody gets out of this town alive.”
Marie turned to him. His face was streaked with sweat and soot, and there was real fear in his eyes — the kind that came from surrender.
She grabbed his hand.
“We’re not dead yet,” she said.
Her voice was ragged but steady. She forced her legs to move. One foot in front of the other. She scanned the inferno for something — anything — that looked like a way out.
Every exit was blocked. Shelving units lay in twisted piles, burning. The main entrance had already collapsed in on itself, a roaring furnace of fire and debris.
They were surrounded.
Then she saw him.
For a second — no more — her father stood in the flames.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. He smiled at her, calm and sure, like he used to when storms rattled their windows and she was small and scared.
Then he was gone.
But in the space where he’d stood, the smoke cleared — just enough. A narrow path. No falling steel. No flames.
Just a break in the chaos.
“This way!” Marie shouted.
She pulled Jake after her. The path was barely wide enough to run through. On either side, flames reached and snapped, but the air was clearer here. They ducked low under a sagging beam and hurdled over a toppled stack of buckets. Marie didn’t let go of Jake’s hand once.
They passed a half-burnt sign swinging from a single wire:
“VALUE MART – SAVING YOU A LITTLE MORE EACH DAY!”
At the end of the aisle, the fire exit door stood open —The same one her dad had used to enter. The one he’d left propped open, just in case.
They burst through it and stumbled into the parking lot, choking, coughing, blinking against the sudden cold.
Marie dropped to her knees and sucked in air like it was the only thing left in the world.
Jake bent beside her, one hand on his ribs, the other still clasping hers.
Behind them, the store was no longer just burning. It was collapsing.
A final groan echoed through the night — deep and hollow — and a huge section of roof gave way. Fire spilled upward into the sky, painting the night orange. The glass storefront imploded, scattering embers across the asphalt like dying stars.
Jake turned to her, coughing hard.
“You saved my life,” he said.
Marie looked up at him, eyes wide, chest still heaving. “You didn’t make it easy.”
He gave a wrecked laugh.
She smiled, or tried to. “Maybe we might save each other. But only if we get out of this town tonight. And never look back.”
Jake nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Deal.”
And then he saw it.
The truck.
Her dad’s truck.
It sat at the far edge of the lot, just where he’d left it. Parked across two bays like he always used to, doors unlocked, keys dangling from the ignition. The driver’s door swung gently on its hinges.
No one else was near it. No sirens yet. No lights.
Marie stared.
Jake didn’t speak. He just took her hand again and helped her to her feet.
Together, they walked to the truck. Not fast, but steady.
They climbed in. The seat was warm, like the old engine had never stopped running. The dashboard still held a faded sticker that read:
“You don’t leave your roots behind. You just keep growing.”
Marie buckled her belt. Her hands trembled, but she managed it.
Jake turned the key.
The truck rumbled to life.
In the rearview mirror, Value Mart was still burning.
The parking lot was still empty.
But they were still alive.
And this time — this one time — they weren’t looking back.
If you think Marie should and Jake should leave town together right now go to [[Chapter 60]]
If you think Marie should stay for a while to consider what’s best to do next go to [[Chapter 61]]Chapter 59 : Moon and Stars
The fire wasn’t distant anymore. It was all around them — roaring, living, eating the building from the inside out. Heat shimmered in the air, thick enough to blur the shelves and signs, enough to make Marie feel like her skin didn’t quite belong to her anymore.
"EVERYBODY OUT." yelled the SWAT commander.
“We can still get it!” Jake yelled, eyes locked ahead, voice shredded by smoke. “It’s right there!”
Marie followed his gaze.
Liz’s body lay slumped in the aisle, limbs thrown at unnatural angles, half-buried beneath a buckled metal rack. Her jacket, Jake’s jacket, still clung to her frame, the top half miraculously untouched by fire — but only for now.
From her pocket, something jutted out. Something orange. The lottery ticket.
Marie’s heart punched at her ribs. She froze, just for a moment, trapped in the absurdity of it. Five million dollars, resting in the pocket of a girl already lost. The money — the chance — was still within reach.
Her father’s voice echoed somewhere deep inside her: “Live, Marie. No matter what it takes.”
She moved.
She darted forward, crouching low, dodging falling plaster and flaming insulation. Her lungs fought for air, but the smoke was a living thing, slipping down her throat, clawing at her from the inside. Jake followed, limping, coughing hard enough to bend double.
Above them, a melted banner sagged from the ceiling. It still bore the store slogan in smeared, soot-dark letters:
“VALUE MART — YOU CAN’T PUT A PRICE ON FAMILY.”
Marie skidded to her knees beside Liz. She didn’t dare look at her face. Her fingers darted to the pocket, trembling, and yanked the ticket free.
Still whole. Still legible. Still real.
Jake reached her side. “You got it?”
She nodded, breathless. “Let’s—”
A groan ripped through the rafters above them, deep and unnatural.
A beam gave way and plummeted to the floor with a crash that shook the tiles. Flame leapt higher in response. A wall of shelving caved in beside them, blocking the aisle completely.
The exit was gone.
Jake turned in circles, searching for a new path. “We can’t stay here! There’s got to be another way—”
“There’s nothing!” Marie coughed, voice barely more than a rasp.
Jake tried climbing the fallen beam, grabbing metal so hot it sizzled against his skin. He cried out and fell back, holding his hand to his chest.
Marie stared down at the ticket. The numbers were starting to blur. The corner had darkened.
She laughed once — a course, broken sound.
Jake turned toward her. His face was flushed, skin blistering. “It was too good to be true, wasn’t it?”
She looked at him.
He gave a weary, crooked smile. “Nobody ever really leaves this town.”
Overhead, another groan — a final warning — and a portion of the ceiling collapsed just feet away. Ash and flame poured down, but through the hole that tore in the roof, Marie saw something else.
The night sky.
Moonlight poured in like liquid silver, catching on floating ash. Stars blinked above the wreckage — calm, cold, eternal. The world beyond the fire was still out there. Still beautiful.
And then, in the space between heat ripples and drifting soot, she saw him.
Her father.
He stood across the aisle, haloed by flame, arms relaxed at his sides. His shirt was clean — navy blue, work-worn, familiar. His expression was calm.
“I’m proud of you, Marie,” he said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the chaos like a whisper in her ear. “Brave and kind. Just like your mother.”
She wanted to run to him. But her legs gave way.
Jake caught her, guiding her gently to the floor as if they had all the time in the world. He sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. His breathing was ragged.
She leaned into him.
They didn’t speak again.
The flames didn’t wait.
The ticket slipped from Marie’s hand.
It rose slowly on the updraft, twisting through the thick air like a falling leaf caught on an autumn breeze. For a moment, it hovered — bright orange against the black.
Then the edges curled.
Blackened.
And in a second, it was ash.
THE END Chapter 60 : Home Again
Marie sat on the porch of her father’s house. The wood beneath her felt dry and thirsty, splintering in places like it hadn’t been touched in weeks. She was still wearing the jacket she’d had on when they fled the store — torn, smoke-stained, and one sleeve burned through near the elbow. She hadn’t changed out of it. Couldn’t.
Not yet.
The street was quiet, but not in the comforting way it used to be. This wasn’t the hush of a Sunday morning or the calm before a holiday. It was hollow. The kind of silence that made you wonder what was listening.
The neighbourhood hadn’t changed. Same cracked sidewalks, same overgrown hedges, same faded plastic flamingoes on the Hendersons’ lawn. But Marie had changed. She sat still, but inside her head everything was moving — fast and chaotic, looping images she couldn’t control. Darren’s useless arm. Liz’s blood on the floor. Kevin’s voice in the dark. Jake’s hand, grabbing hers as they ran.
Her eyes burned, but she didn’t cry. Crying felt too far away. Like it belonged to someone else now.
The front door creaked behind her. Jake stepped out, his arm still in a sling. He had a band-aid over his left temple and a stitched-up cut along his jawline, but he was alive. He’d taken to making coffee like it was some sacred routine — one cup at a time, slowly, carefully. He held one now, even though he barely drank from it.
“Thought I heard you out here,” he said. “You get any sleep?”
Marie didn’t answer. She hadn’t. Not really. Her body shut down sometimes, but her brain never followed.
Jake sat down beside her with a wince, like everything in him still hurt. “Been thinking,” he said. “I’m heading west. Colorado. I’ve got an aunt out there. Never met her, but she sends birthday cards.”
Marie stared at the street. “Do you think it’ll be different in Colorado?”
Jake shrugged. “Doubt it. But it’ll be somewhere else.”
She let the silence stretch between them. The wind picked up, rustling the brittle leaves along the curb. Somewhere, a screen door slammed. Somewhere else, a dog barked and then went quiet.
Jake shifted in his seat. “You could come with me,” he said, not looking at her. “It’s not much, but... I don’t know. Feels stupid just leaving without asking.”
Marie turned to him. His face looked older now — not in years, but in weight. Like everything he’d seen had settled behind his eyes and hardened. She imagined hers looked the same.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
He nodded, like that was enough. “I’ll be leaving in the morning. No pressure.”
Jake stood, walked back inside, and gently closed the door behind him.
Marie stayed.
She didn’t know for how long. Long enough for the coffee in her hands to go cold. Long enough for the sun to shift and cast different shadows across the porch. Her dad’s house stood behind her, full of dust and echoes. His boots still by the back door. His badge still hanging from the hook beside his old keychain. Everything in its place — except him.
She didn’t go inside for some time.
A week passed.
No one came to the house. The neighbours kept their distance, unsure what to say to the girl whose name had been on the news. The girl who walked out of a nightmare with nothing but bruises and ash in her lungs.
And then, one morning, someone did come.
An old woman in a long brown coat carrying a shopping bag. Her steps were slow, deliberate. She said nothing. Looked at no windows. No passing cars. No playing children.
At the top of the steps to Marie’s father’s house she finally stopped. She rang the doorbell and waited. No answer came so she rang it again. Several minutes passed until she finally placed the bag on the decking. She reached inside and took out a single can — SunnyDay peaches. The label was scratched, faded. The can looked ancient, like something pulled from the back of a shelf and forgotten. She placed it on the top step. Straightened it. Looked at it for a long time.
And then she turned around.
She walked back down the path, back down the street, and disappeared around the corner.
No one had noticed her arrive. No one saw her leave.
Just as nobody had seen Marie and Jake leave one morning, a week or so before.
THE END Chapter 61 : The Price of Everything
Three weeks had passed since the events at Value-Mart, and Marie was finally beginning to sleep through the night without waking up screaming. The house felt different now—emptier, but also somehow lighter, as if her father's spirit had found peace knowing she'd survived.
Jake sat cross-legged on the living room floor, helping her sort through boxes of her father's belongings. They'd been doing this for days, deciding what to keep, what to donate, what to take with her to Portland. It was slow work, made slower by the stories each item prompted—his old badge, his reading glasses, the coffee mug that said "World's #1 Dad" that Marie had given him when she was eight.
"You sure about this one?" Jake asked, holding up a framed photo of her father in his police uniform, looking impossibly young and serious.
"That's coming with me," Marie said without hesitation. "Aunt Linda will want to see it too."
They'd been talking more about Portland, about the future. Jake had surprised her by applying to Portland State—his grades were better than he'd let on, and there were scholarships available. His father's medical bills would still be there, but Jake had realised that drowning himself in Westbrook wouldn't solve them any faster than getting an education would.
The doorbell rang, interrupting their quiet work.
Marie glanced at Jake, then toward the front door. "Expecting anyone?"
He shook his head. "Maybe it's Mrs. Henderson with another casserole?"
Marie groaned. The neighbours had been incredibly kind, but if she had to eat one more tuna noodle casserole, she might lose her mind. She padded to the front door in her socks, peering through the peephole.
Mrs. Davenport stood on the porch, holding what appeared to be a bag of shopping, her grey hair neatly pinned beneath a floral headscarf. She looked smaller than Marie remembered, more fragile in the afternoon sunlight.
Marie opened the door, surprised. "Mrs. Davenport? Hi."
"Well, hello, sugar,” the elderly woman said with a gentle smile. "I hope you don't mind me stopping by. I brought you a little something." She walked straight into the house without waiting for an invitation.
"That's very thoughtful of you. Please, come in."
Marie felt a flutter of guilt. She'd never really talked to Mrs. Davenport beyond their brief exchanges at the store, yet here she was, making a condolence visit. Mrs. Davenport glanced around the living room with interest, taking in the boxes, the scattered photographs, Jake sitting among the memories.
"You remember Jake," Marie said. "From school. From the store."
"Of course, honey," Mrs. Davenport nodded pleasantly. "You're lookin' well, young man. Got a little somethin' for you too.” She pulled two large cans of peaches from her shopping bag and handed one to each of them.
Jake stood up, brushing dust off his jeans. "Thank you, ma'am. That’s very kind of you. He exchanged a look with Marie and smiled. “Can I get you some tea or coffee?"
"Tea'd be lovely," Mrs. Davenport said, settling into Marie’s father's old armchair with surprising familiarity. "If it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all," Jake said, disappearing into the kitchen.
Marie sat on the couch and placed her tin of peaches on the coffee table without really looking at it, her attention focused on Mrs. Davenport. That tiny, crazy, old lady who was now sitting with her hands folded in her lap, studying Marie with sharp eyes that seemed full of life all of a sudden.
"Your daddy was a good man," Mrs. Davenport said finally. "I remember him from when he was just a young'un. Always very protective of you."
"He was," Marie agreed, throat tightening slightly. "He taught me a lot.” She grinned. “He also told me a lot of stories form his police days. He said that you would turn up at all of the crimes scenes he attended.”
“I surely do like a good rubberneck,” the old woman said with a cheeky wink.
Jake returned with a tray of tea, setting it on the coffee table next to the can of peaches.
Mrs Davenport picked up a cup and began sipping her tea delicately. Her crooked little pinkie thrust into the air.
"You know," she said, settling back in the chair, "you children ain't the only ones who love peaches.”
“I’m not sure—
“They was my boy's favourite too,” she continued. “Even as a young’un, he couldn't get enough of them."
Marie glanced at Jake, both of them making polite listening faces. They'd never heard Mrs. Davenport mention having children. In fact, neither of them could remember her ever talking about anything other than peaches.
"He was such a good boy," Mrs. Davenport continued, her voice taking on a wistful quality. "Quiet, like you, sugar," She nodded to Marie. "Always watchin', always thinkin'. Had his demons, though,” She nodded again. “Just like you."
Marie's eyebrows rose slightly. Jake nearly choked on his tea. They exchanged another glance—what an odd thing to say.
"I'm sorry," Marie said carefully. "I didn't know you had a son."
"Oh yes," Mrs. Davenport said, her fingers absently stroking the handle of her teacup. "He's gone now. Real sudden-like." She paused, and seemed to catch herself "But I know you children have had losses too. Your friends. Your daddy, young Marie. We all understand grief in this room."
An uncomfortable silence settled over them. Marie found herself glancing at the can of peaches on the table, noticing for the first time that something was off about the label. The cheerful SunnyDay logo looked... wrong somehow. Damaged.
"My Jeremy was always such a thoughtful boy," Mrs. Davenport continued. "Always bringing me little gifts, little treasures he'd found. He had quite the collection, actually."
Marie looked up sharply. "Sorry, did you say your son's name was Jeremy?"
Mrs. Davenport's eyes seemed to suddenly widen, as if anticipating something. "Oh yes, though he purely hated it. Always insisted I call him…" She paused, savouring the moment. "Jeb."
The teacup slipped from Jake's fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor. Marie felt the blood drain from her face as the horrible truth crashed into he like a truck.
Mrs. Davenport—sweet, harmless Mrs. Davenport—was Jeb's mother?
“So, you remember him," she said pleasantly, as if discussing the weather. "He spoke of you both, actually. Well, not you specifically, honey," she nodded to Jake, "but the boy with that lottery ticket. He was real focused on that ticket. That was you, wasn't it?”
Marie's eyes fixed on the can of peaches, and now she could see what was wrong with the label. The smiling sun character had been methodically scratched at until it resembled a grinning skull, empty eye sockets staring up at her. She looked over at the other can and saw the same thing.
"You know," Mrs. Davenport continued, as she reached into her shopping bag, "I been makin' quite a few visits lately. Handin' out peaches. Payin' my respects, you might say." Her hand emerged holding something that made Marie's heart stop—a shotgun. Her daddy’s shotgun, still stained with dark spots that could only be blood.
“There was more of them survivors than you might have thought. I paid all of ‘em a visit. Even the security guard, the one my Jeb had put in the trunk. He was saving him for last. But I didn’t. I choice you two.”
Jake had gone completely white, pressing himself back against the sofa.
"You're insane," Marie whispered.
“Oh no, sugar," Mrs. Davenport tilted her head. "I'm just a mama who loved her boy. My Jeremy wasn't perfect, I'll grant you that. He had his... enthusiasms. But he was mine. And y’all killed him."
She reached into her bag again, this time producing a price gun. "You know, I been thinkin' about this all week. What price to put on your life, dear Marie. My Jeremy always said that every decision, every choice we make, comes at a price."
The old woman stood slowly, and trained the gun on her.
“Now then," Mrs. Davenport said with that same pleasant smile, "it's time for you to pay."
THE ENDChapter 2 : Eyes in the Darkness
Marie stuck with Jake as they searched for other survivors, their footsteps echoing through the darkened store. She'd walked these aisles every shift for eight months, but tonight they felt different—like a maze designed to keep people in rather than let them browse.
"This is so fucked," Jake whispered, still clutching his lottery ticket like a lifeline. "I mean, what are the odds? I finally get my chance to get out of this place, and now..."
"Get out?" Marie asked, despite the danger of talking too loudly.
Jake's laugh was bitter. "Five million dollars, Marie. You know what that means? My dad's medical bills, gone. The second mortgage on our house, gone. I could actually leave Westbrook, maybe go to college somewhere that isn't just an extension of high school."
Marie understood that feeling too well. Her college applications sat unfilled on her bedroom desk, deadlines approaching like prison sentences. Portland State. Even community colleges in other states. Anywhere but here, where generations of families worked the same dead-end jobs, shopped at the same stores, and died in the same hospital where they were born.
They found Kevin near the electronics section, methodically checking security monitors that still flickered with emergency power.
"Thank God," Kevin said when he saw them. "I was starting to think I was the only one left." He looked pale, but there was something else in his expression—an alertness that seemed almost excited.
“Do you know how we can out of here?" Jake asked desperately.
Kevin shook his head. "Security shutters are down. But I might be able to get a phone working. There's a DynaTAC demonstration phone in one of the display cases back there—it's charged overnight for customer demos. I have the key.”
“But the phones aren’t working.”
“It’s a new mobile phone. It doesn’t need a landline,” Kevin said. “The thing costs four grand.” His eyes gleamed in the red lights. "Even on the black market I could get at least two for it. That's enough money to blow this town."
Marie felt uneasy at his carefree tone.
He noticed her gaze on him. ”Sometimes you need an escape plan," he continued, gesturing vaguely around them. “This is the type of town where a person can end up stuck."
The word hung in the air like a curse. Stuck. Like everyone in Westbrook eventually got stuck. Did he mean her too?
“Well, w need to call for help," she finally said, trying to focus on immediate survival rather than the existential dread creeping in.
"Right," Kevin agreed, but his smile seemed strange. "Help. Definitely."
From somewhere in the store came a scream, cut short by a gunshot. They all flinched.
"Jesus Christ," Jake breathed. "He's still out there."
Kevin's eyes gleamed behind his glasses. "Don't worry. I have some ideas about how to deal with bullies."
If they help Kevin try to get a phone working, go to [[Chapter 4]]
If they decide to find other survivors first, go to [[Chapter 5]]