The bearded man held his hands up in front of her, turned, then faced the large door. He grabbed the silver handle and pulled.
The door popped open, releasing a pungent smell that assaulted their noses. He waved his hand in front of his scrunched face, looked away, then coughed.
“Jesus Christ,” He pressed his nose and mouth to the crook of his arm. “What the hell is that smell?”
Sarah held her breath, smushed her mouth against her arm, then coughed from the odor. “Doesn’t matter. Hurry up and get in there.”
He glanced at her but ventured no rebuttal to her demand. He grabbed the side of the door and pulled it open farther, allowing more of the stench to fill the storage room.
“Oh, God. Smells like soured milk or something,” he said, voice muffled from the fabric of his shirt pressed to his mouth.
Sarah looked over her shoulder once more and listened for anymore noises from the remaining three members of his group.
The bearded man reached down and grabbed the collar of his buddy’s shirt, then dragged him into the deep, dark, stench-ridden ether. He continued to cough and gag. His head shook, trying to fend off the smell. He released the wiry man’s shirt, then turned to face the opening.
Sarah closed in with the shotgun and light trained at his face. She grabbed the silver handle. “They’ll find you before too long.”
“But how will–”
She pushed the door closed, cutting off the bearded man as he rushed her. His thick hands hammered the door. Each strike grew louder, more intense than the last.
Sarah shook her head, turned, then deflated against the outside of the door. Her face scrunched in disgust. She could feel each hard strike through the surface.
The noises she’d heard earlier remained, but sounded more distant and muffled. Sarah trekked through the darkness and skirted past the corner toward the swinging door. She thumbed the light mounted to the shotgun and peered through the plastic window.
The aisle and dark nook beyond the storage room showed no beams of light or shadowy figures. She craned her neck and inspected the rows of aisles, finding them to be free and clear.
Sarah pushed the door open and crept out into the blackness of the nook. She held on to the door, moving it far enough so she could slip past it. The hinges squeaked some–low and subtle. She turned and closed it.
A clatter echoed inside the store. It sounded like cans or something dense hitting the inside of the plastic carts. She couldn’t gauge where it came from, but it didn’t sound close by.
The beams from their flashlights shined above the tops of the shelving units, marking their positions. Two were toward the front on the far side of the store. The other was closer to her position.
Sarah toed the edge of the wall next to the dairy case. She peered down the aisle, and spotted her cart. It hadn’t been touched as far as she could tell. If she moved fast and stayed quiet, she could grab it and head to the receiving area.
“Has anyone seen Danny or Clint?” a voice asked, shouting from the far end of the store. “They’ve gone silent.”
“I’ll check back here shortly,” a feminine voice replied, a few aisles over from where Sarah hid.
Sarah grumbled under her breath, wrestling with what to do. She spotted the woman’s light three aisles down from her. The faint gleam moved within the confines of the runs of shelves and didn’t appear to be moving toward her yet.
The floor between Sarah and her cart had food scattered about, making it difficult to traverse without any light to guide her. Her options were limited and so was her window to move.
Sarah brought the shotgun to bear and skirted the corner of the dairy case. She glanced at the aisles behind, then peered at the floor. The minefield of open food and other packaged goods sat as dark splotches on the linoleum.
She examined the ground, then up the aisles in front of her. She looked over her shoulder again, finding the light growing and shining over the back wall.
The cart sat but fifteen feet away or so, the receiving doors a bit farther down the aisle.
The bottom of her shoes smashed something crunchy on the floor. The noise sounded loud, but she kept moving. No hastened footfalls tingled her ears.
Sarah checked behind her, finding the dancing beam closing in on the aisle she scurried down. The front of her foot kicked what felt like a can of food. It rolled across the floor, smashing into other items carpeting the ground. The noise created from the contact made her cuss under her breath.
“Danny? Clint? Is that you?” The feminine voice neared the end of the aisle Sarah stood in.
Sarah’s quick walk turned to an all-out sprint. She eyed the cart, not wanting to leave the food she’d gathered behind. Her arm stretched out, reaching for the side of the plastic cart as the feminine voice screamed out loud.
“Hey. Stop and drop the shotgun.”
A wave of panic washed over Sarah in that tense, heated moment, making her ignore the woman’s demand.
A loud report fired from behind Sarah. The bullet grazed the side of her arm. She pulled her hand back from the cart and ran past it.
The beams of light from the other two ahead of her rushed down the aisles, blocking any sort of retreat to the receiving area. Another report fired at her back. She flinched, ducked, then turned down one of the aisles next to her as the two
