Slasher.

So here we are, the Halloween tale. It's a simple, direct sort of piece. Tell me if you think it works - or doesn't. As always, please enjoy.

I looked around; the office was empty. It was after five, and well after quitting time. Everyone else was already gone for the day, and the light pouring from the windows was fading with the sun.

Looking around, the cubicles around me were empty. The entire sales team was gone. I was certain the boss had passed my desk twenty minutes ago, back when it would have still been a bit early to go home. My work was done, with everything filed and collated neatly.

Even the notes the boss would need tomorrow were in a place of high visibility, right on the desk where the boss looked. I went back into my office to triple check, and nodded to myself when I found everything where it should be.

Purse and jacket in hand, I closed and locked the office and headed out. If the boss was in the bathroom or something and on his way back, he could use his own key to open everything back up. I swear, the man was a machine sometimes.

He shouldn't be back, though; it was Halloween, and he had kids. Surely even the machine would take his kids out trick or treating, right?

The halls weren't exactly dark, but my heels echoed ever so slightly on the tile floor. Normally, you couldn't hear it; it had taken me a little time to get used to it when I left late, which was almost every day. I was used to it now.

I locked the outer door to the office and made my way to the elevator. At almost six, I expected it to be empty - but it wasn't.

"Oh! Sorry. Did you need off here?"

The man was a janitor. A young one, with short brown hair and a crisp clean set of uniform overalls. I couldn't tell what color his eyes were; he was busy looking at the floor.

He rolled out his mop bucket apparatus thing with a quiet "Yes, ma'am, thank you ma'am" and walked past... he had a slight scent, of some sort of dried spice. I didn't recognize it.

"I'm still too young to be a 'ma'am,' sir," I joked. Even so, I moved, because he was a little odd.

I pressed the button, turning, but the janitor had already walked away. Without comment? Yeah, he was odd. He still hadn't even so much as glanced at me.

The elevator went down smoothly, a clean ride all the way to the first floor. The light went off and the familiar chime dinged, and it was only then that I realized the ever present muzak which always played, was absent.

I didn't care, of course, that was a good thing to my mind, but it meant the elevator was broken again. At least the doors opened and let me out on the ground floor like they were supposed to.

It was empty, of course; I shouldn't find a single soul here until the security guard at the front desk, or maybe another janitor.

As expected, the main lights were powered off to save money, and Jeff was at the desk. That meant Morty was on patrol tonight; they switched daily.

"Hi Jeff. Bye Jeff. Have a nice quiet night."

Jeff was smiling; he knew my routine. "Hi Betty. Bye Betty. Have a wonderful night. You going to a party or anything?"

I had a few invites, but... "No, thanks. I just want a quiet night myself, so I'm staying home."

"That's fair. You look tired. Have a good one."

I returned the wave and hit the door. He wasn't lying; I must look a sight. So much so, that some janitor can call me ma'am even though I was only twenty-four!

The door opened, of course; it was locked, but opened one way. I'd somehow managed to forget my purse before, and forced Jeff to unlock the door and let me back in. Which had required a full security check by company policy - the cameras were watching.

They were watching here, too. I didn't need to look to know, but if I did, I'd see the blinking red lights strobing along from every other light pole and every building corner. It made me feel very safe, at least here.

I didn't have a car, like most people in this city. The buses were great, if you didn't mind the smell of pee and other things. Or the homeless. I felt for them, but if you so much as approached one, you took your life in your hands; you might get a nice one willing to accept help - or you might get one so high they didn't know which way was up, or why that knife was in their hand.

Thankfully, there weren't any at the bus stop. That still left the bus, but there was no one here at all. The lights kicked on automatically as I stepped forward. Official sunset.

I took advantage of the opportunity to find a clean place to sit. There wasn't much to do here except study the old flyers taped up, most of them of missing persons, and what little graffiti existed.

This neighborhood was a good one, a business one, so most of the graffiti got cleaned up every other week.

No one came by; just cars in the ever present traffic jam that was a way of life here. Most of the cars were the new and expensive ones, from law partners or doctors or day traders... the very kind I worked for myself.

Some day I'd get my own car; not a Mercedes, but a nice new Toyota.

The bus pulled in, and I was up before it stopped. You always wanted to be up before it stopped.

A few people got off, which I didn't get. There were no residences of any kind here, and the businesses were all shutting down; this entire district went to sleep after five, but there were always one or two that got off here every work day. Most of the time, it wasn't the same people, either.

I waited a moment, then got on, flashing my pass. The bus driver, who was the regular for here and who I called 'Norm' in my head, nodded his usual greeting to me.

There were three people in the bus aside from me tonight. Two were regulars, and one was a new face. The new face was an older man, dressed in at least three layers of clothes that hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine in at least a week, and with a ratty looking backpack placed on the seat beside him.

His hair was greasy and long, his face was long and lined, and his eyes - they might be blue, but the pupils were so small I was certain he was on something.

He was also in the seat I normally sat in, near the back. Which meant I'd have to remember to clean and fumigate it before I sat down tomorrow; the last time I hadn't, I'd picked up fleas, and had a very bad week.

I decided to go midway up, close to one of the other regulars; there was strength in numbers in case the new guy got a little manic.

The business man would be no help at all; I knew that from past experience. Sharply dressed, young and fit enough, even a bit handsome, he had no interest at all in getting involved in anything, which made him useless.

Gretchen, on the other hand, an older woman nearing retirement? She was a gem. A foreign immigrant black belt in some martial art I couldn't even say correctly; she'd been a public defender for decades before starting her own practice. Her sever bun was gray now, but she had an open, approachable grandmother's face that belied her true nature.

The last time there had been trouble on this bus, she had solved it.

She favored me with a smirk as I sat, and with admirable restraint, didn't so much as glance behind her. "Good evening Betty."

"Good evening, Gretchen."

"You look tired."

"No doubt more tired than you do. How you do it I'll never know."

Gretchen put in more hours a day than I ever did.

"It's how I stay young," she told me seriously, as she did every time we went through this, our laurel and hardy bit. "You should put in a few more hours yourself. Start going in at seven."

"My boss would never pay me for all that, and there is absolutely no way I'm doing it for free."

"Kids these days are so mercenary," Gretchen replied with a smile, softening the sting.

There was no way she didn't know the grind of the secretary position; I'd overheard some of my bosses say that a good secretary was worth their weight in gold, and I was pretty sure Gretchen either started as a secretary herself or an unpaid paralegal.

I also knew she went to Switzerland for vacation every year.

The bus started off with a lurch, and I settled back into the seat to avoid hitting the floor.

There was only one speed to go at this time of day, of course, and that was slow. The next stop was two blocks away.

Right on time, I heard muttering; as if the jolt had startled our new and unknown passenger awake.

A bad sign, but about half a block down, the guy shut up again and I was able to focus on the crazy traffic outside the window instead.

The traffic was always crazy, but it seemed to be even worse today. I couldn't really figure out why; maybe there were more ubers and taxis around? I tried to count, even as the neighborhood got progressively worse.

It didn't take long for the well-manicured and beautiful business neighborhood with its' sedate nature and low crime to become more wild and crime ridden.

The next stop had more graffiti, and the people around it were a little more... like the guy behind us this very minute. However, the stop itself was empty; no one wanted on.

I saw Norm, whose real name was Harry, glance behind himself in the mirror. Checking it to see if any of us were getting off. Checking to see if the guy behind us was getting off.

I didn't need to risk a look; footsteps sounded clearly on our city buses, and I heard none from behind me. This wasn't our stops either, of course, and I could see Harry sigh before shutting the doors.

He had to wait a bit to pull out, but it was the principal of the thing; the bus was now technically moving, and he could ignore people trying to get on now if he wanted to.

Next block, and the mutters were back, just a noise I could barely hear over the engine noise and sounds of cars from outside our large mobile lozenge.

The next stop, another new passenger got on. This one was a man, almost as seedy looking as the guy behind us, but younger - not that you could tell at a glance. He had the look and twitchy movements of someone who used, not just every day but every hour.

He was wearing an oversized coat of pea green and pants to match... maybe a veteran? I couldn't see any stitching on it....

A hand touched my arm; I turned to find Gretchen shaking her head at me. "You're too curious for your own good."

The words were even softer than the muttering of the man still behind us, but they were loud enough for me to hear. As if to prove her point, Gretchen turned from me and focused her gaze out the window.

Right, people did get touchy about people staring; I did too. The more twitchy people did something about it - which made the floor of the bus an interesting object for study.

The possible veteran slumped down in the very front, and Harry closed the doors and got us moving again. The next several blocks were an unchanged routine of us pulling in and pulling out. No one got on, and only our friend the uninterested trader got off.

Then it was Gretchen's turn. I got up to make it easier for her, and she squeezed my arm as she went by, a silent good luck.

I gave her a smile back, but I was sure she knew I was faking it.

It surprised me when the could-be veteran lunged up ahead of Gretchen and stumbled off; this wasn't really a neighborhood for his type - or even mine.

And then there were two.

I moved as casually as I could and sat closer to the front as Harry shut the doors again.

Even so, I could hear the muttering again, louder.

Something was going to happen; I just knew it.

From the looks in the mirror darting around, Harry knew it too.

We rumbled on, and soon enough, the muttering was louder than the engine again. There were only 3 stops left until mine.Then two, and it was time to consider my exist strategy; did I want this guy to know what my stop was? Did I have the energy for a brisk walk?

I really didn't. The chances were the man wouldn't even follow me out.

No, he was too busy getting ready to make trouble right here. I heard him get up, and his clumsy footsteps on the metal floor of our shared moving coffin.

Of course, he stopped beside me. "You. I saw you lookin' at me."

I looked up, and the man was demonic up close; backlit in the fading light the rotted pits of his teeth could be clearly seen as he frowned at me. Even his smell was from another world - as if he'd just swam across an entire sewer in those clothes.

More importantly, his hands were nowhere to be seen. They were hidden behind him, which meant he could have anything in them.

My purse was a small shield, but it was the best I had. I readied it.

"I look at everyone when I enter the bus sir, today you were included.

His face twisted in pure rage, and I knew there was no polite way out of what was coming: "You makin' fun o' me?!?"

The bus stopped suddenly, and the man was thrown forward with a clatter. Now was not the time to hesitate; I jumped up and past before he could recover, taking note of what looked to be a rather large knife on the floor. I kicked that Harry's way as he called the stop out, as good a thank you as I could in the rush.

There was nobody at this stop, and it was a block from home. I was going to test my fitness.

I risked a look back to find Harry and the man squaring off; I didn't stick around to see the finale since Harry had the knife in hand now and if push came to shove, he could use it and company policy be damned.

No, he was getting off. Getting off and looking around. I turned just as those bloodshot eyes turned my way, hoping against hope that he couldn't recognize the back of my head after staring at it for twenty minutes. Maybe the sparse crowd I was weaving through would hide me enough.

I ran the block, my old track days coming back with a vengeance due to the adrenaline dumped into my system. Honestly, it was surprising I could still make a city block; I'd left such days far behind me and should be sucking air and curled into a puddle by now.

Everyone else let me go. Not because they were worried about me, but because they didn't care. Someone running, and no blood on them? That didn't even rate a second glance here; for all the people stepping warily around me knew, I could be on drugs, just like that man on the bus. It wouldn't even be the strangest thing seen or reported on here.

My apartment building stood tall before me. It wasn't the best of course, I couldn't afford that, but it was good enough to have good locks on the front door and security cameras everywhere that fed into an agency that was based a few blocks away; any sign of trouble here, and I could expect help fast.

I pulled out my keys and managed to slot the correct one first try. The locks engaged behind me, and finally, I was safe behind tempered mesh glass and steel.

I turned to check my mail... and caught a glimpse of a ratty jacket just out of the corner of my eye.

He was here. Somehow, he had managed to keep up, to follow me. He scowled at me through the door, showing his nasty teeth again.

I didn't need my mail tonight. I moved to the elevators; with any luck at all, no one would do the lazy thing and just buzz, or open the door and let him in. This alone wasn't enough to call the cops or the agency - they would just laugh and tell me to call back when the obviously drug addled man committed an actual crime. No help at all.

No one was on the elevator; when I turned back, the man was even closer, his face inches from the door. He was close enough to lick it! He'd followed me here and was staying; even without the key, I wouldn't feel safe until I got into my apartment.

I got in and hit the button. The man vanished from view as the doors closed.

The elevator muzak hit, and I couldn't stop thinking of how absurd it would be to die while such stuff was playing; it would be truly awful.

The elevator continued its climb, directly up to my floor. That was good; it meant no one else was going down into the danger I'd just left.

I jumped at the gentle ding, and was spared embarrassment by the doors opening to an empty hallway. This was normal, and nothing to be alarmed by - everyone was either home or not due for hours yet on this floor. We were all young professionals here, but some of us worked night shifts.

I didn't know everyone on our floor, and I didn't really socialize with many, but I knew enough. Everyone here looked out for each other.

The hall being empty made it easier to see; I was almost home. Just down this hallway, and to the left here, and down this hall... to the right. Number six-thirteen. My key slid smoothly into the lock and a door which looked like any other down this row opened into my familiar apartment.

My familiar and mostly sparse apartment. I really needed to put a little more effort in; I was going to be here for the next several years after all, and a few more paintings on the wall, some more plants, none of this would hurt my chances for the massive deposit I paid.

For now, though, it was time for a 'gourmet' frozen dinner and maybe a glass of wine. Some Netflix until I fell asleep, and then the weekend. I made sure to lock up first though - all three locks.

I wouldn't be leaving my light on; I had bought some candy, but there weren't any kids on this floor, and all the trick or treaters in the building were taught to respect the lights.

That was something to buy for next year; actual Halloween decorations. All I had was my pumpkin, and that had to be kept inside. At least it looked cool this year; I had spent some time working from a kit last Saturday to make it, and the demon it depicted was a cut above the standard triangle eyes and square teeth most pumpkins were made of.

Chicken Alfredo safely whirling around in it's little chamber soaking up micro waves, I turned to my television and comfy couch to find something scary to watch. I didn't really feel it after the bus, but 'tis the season after all, so....

Hmm, gory, made in eighty-six, and a stunning five out of ten. Perfect, the only thing better would be some sort of monster movie from the fifties.

My microwave dinged before the credits finished rolling, and I went back and got it. Food, a fork, and a glass of water, and I was all set to hardcore unwind.

My doorbell rang.

I caught myself mid panic and forced a breath. No, there was no reason to think the worst; I could just answer the door like an adult. A look out to see who it was, and no need to even answer if it was someone I didn't need to see.

I peeped out the peephole and beheld one of my neighbors, who was dressed as a succubus and smiling, with no sign of distress at all.

I opened up, and she waited patiently for me. "Hello?"

"Hello! I saw you get in, and I wanted to extend the invitation again... party at my place?"

Right, that was happening. "Sorry Stacey, I'm feeling pretty rough from work, and I never got a chance to get a costume."

Stacey kept her smile, and made a beckoning gesture. "So? It's no problem! All we need are warm bodies! You sure?"

I liked Stacey, and a party did sound nice, but at the same time... "No, it wouldn't feel right being the only one dressed in business chic. You all have fun, though."

Stacey shrugged with a smile; being shot down twice didn't seem to bother her. "Alright. Have a good night then, but if you change your mind, you know where we are. We'll be going till late!"

Stacey's place was at the other end of the building - far enough away that no matter how loud she had the music, I wouldn't hear it. Luckily enough, no one else was close enough either, as the nearest apartments at that end weren't rented yet.

Only a matter of time, though.

I went back to my movie and meal and curled up to both.

Just as the kills began, a knock sounded on my door. Not the bell, an actual knock. Everyone in the building used the doorbells; they were nice, unobtrusive chimes. Only people from outside the building dared to rap knuckles on our doors.

I paused again, set down the empty meal carton, picked up my wine, and made my way to the door.

Just as I got there, the knock sounded again, loud and with enough force to rattle the entire thing in its' frame.

I looked through the peephole...and got a full view of a single, bloodshot and rheumy looking eye.

It was him! How had he followed me?!? How had he found me?!? Had he been looking for the past half hour, roaming up and down the floors, knocking on doors?

The police. No, the security company, then the police! They had to be on their way already; I'd call and help them find him, get him safely locked up and away from here.

The door would hold; it wasn't as good as the outer doors, but it was solid wood in a solid wood frame. I had time.

"I know yer in there! I know it's you! Come out!"

I found my phone. Where was my...? Right, I'd spilled my wine. I'd have to rent a steam cleaner later and clean the carpet by the door. The number was... there, number two on my speed dial where I'd left it.

"Morningstar security, what is the nature of your emergency?"

"This is apartment six-thirteen of the Baxter building; there is a man outside my door who does not belong here! He looks homeless and on drugs, and he's pounding on my door to get in!"

"Alright, Ma'am, let's see... Right, I have it here. I see him. A team is already on the way; they will be there inside of eight minutes. Please just sit tight and don't open your door. I need to notify the other residents on your floor so they don't get blindsided. Rest assured I will be watching, and if your condition changes, I'll take appropriate action."

What was I to say to that? "Thanks?"

"You're welcome, and thank you for calling Morningstar security."

He hung up.

I guess they were professional? It felt a little... underwhelming to me. Eight minutes? I'd been assured when moving in, the response time was less than five. Right now, that felt like an eternity!

Still, even so, the door was sturdy, right? It could hold eight minutes - even if the guy was now pounding on it as if it owed him money.

I wasn't prepared for this, not at all. The nearest weapon I had were my block of kitchen knives, and I grabbed one.

It didn't make me feel any better.

The door was shuddering in the frame now, and the bellowing was loud enough to be clear - if the man was able to make sense at all. All I could make out through the incoherent rambling was "I know you're in there!"

Then suddenly, silence.

I jumped when my phone rang.

It was the security company.

"Hello?"

"Ma'am, the man has left your door. He is heading back down the hallway to the elevator. Just stay put, the team is on its way."

Then the man on the other end hung up, just like that.

I would not be leaving them a favorable review at all.

What could I do? The locks had held, but getting closer, it was easy to see the frame was weakening. I thought I'd heard some cracking under the yelling. A dining room chair angled and shoved under the knob might help, an old idea from my childhood when I didn't want Dad just randomly entering my room.

I missed him fiercely for a moment.

No, I could handle this. It was just a meth head or something, a situation that everyone in a city had to deal with eventually. For some, it happened every day. Never mind that this was the first one that had followed me home.

My phone rang again; the company, again. "Hello?"

"Ma'am, that man is returning to your door. He seems to have found a fire ax from the fire equipment near the stairs. Our team is informed and is three minutes out."

After that chilling information, my lifeline hung up again, and I kicked myself for not calling the police instead. but the security company was supposed to call the police instead, so I didn't have to!

Wait, where was the guy? was he back at my stretch of the hallway yet?

I moved the chair and looked out of the peep hole. If I was fast enough, I could make it to the fire escape, and then the idiot could ax my door all he wanted. So long as he didn't see me.

Nothing was in the peep hole range, so I ran through the locks and took a bigger peek. Nothing, the hall was empty. He would be coming from the more inhabited parts of the hall, and the only good route, the only fast route, would be the fire escape.

There was no time to hesitate; no time for shoes. No time to even get my purse or keys. He had to be in the hall now!

I shut the door and heard the lock engage; there was no going back now.

I was quick and quiet, and I pulled the fire escape shut behind me, feeling the resistance as the automatic opener thing fought to keep it so. It finally shut with a soft click, and in all that time, the man hadn't appeared in the hallway.

I was tempted to stay and leave the door open a bit to watch, but I couldn't risk it. I just couldn't.

A building like this, you'd expect the fire escapes to be in good shape - and they were. This one was just a little rusty, and just loose enough for a wiggle. The stairs down were clear, and while the metal felt uncomfortable on my feet, they weren't getting cut by anything sharp.

Not that I was too worried about that; a few small cuts on my feet were a small price to pay to avoid a few large cuts with an ax.

A crash that I could just faintly hear was my cue to hit the safety clip things on the ladder; I was certain that was my door going down once and for all. It slid, and there was a clang as it hit the bottom and rebounded, but surely no one floors above me would hear all that through the door and noise from a door splintering.

If I hurried, I'd meet the team sent to rescue me.

The alley was a typical alley, and I had to pick my way carefully among the trash and glass and needles.

Wonder of wonders, I managed it. The front door and street were both empty. There were some people on either sides of the street in the distance, but could they help me? Would they help me? What could they do, other than call the police themselves?

Assuming they were willing and not inclined to take advantage and drag me off themselves. On the other hand, the security team was paid to take care of this situation, and had their reputation to consider. Everyone in the building would hear of this, and how they handled it; if they screwed it up, it would hurt them as a company. They might even get fired, and losing a lucrative contract would mean bad things.

I couldn't get in the front door now; I needed to hurry. The parking garage entrance was on the other side of the front door, and led down into the depths.

Wait, could that have been how the man got in? through either the main entrance from the parking garage, or maybe the service entrance?

No, it didn't matter; there was no way he was there now. I picked my way across and looked. Left and down led into clear darkness, lit only by patches of bare fluorescent bars. Those lights did little to pierce the gloom set between them, at least from here.

If the security team were here, the most obvious place for them to park and go in would be the first floor near the elevators; this build was set so that the parking garage had it's own set of elevators, and one had to go down to the first floor before going into the building.

Any security team out there wouldn't want to risk something happening while they were parking three or four floors up and then coming down.

I stayed close to the left, went past the arm that stopped the cars, and continued on. There was no time for hesitation, and that arm was automated anyway; no one was in the little shack to help me.

There was... plenty of places for someone to hide, even with the left being bare concrete walls. The rows of cars to my right were simply the most obvious. There was a drip somewhere as I hurried, but the door couldn't be too far in.

There! The door, and right next to it, a van! A van with the logo of a shield and mailed fist, one I recognized. Finally!

Wait, what was that? Something shifted to my right.

I heard a scream and realized it was me; biting it back, I prepared to run as someone came out of the gloom in between the lights.

A large man, well built if young, younger than I was. A man in a tan uniform with a cheap silvered badge pinned to it over his right pectoral. A badge that gleamed, like his obviously polished leather belt containing a nightstick and something that looked like a gun but couldn't be. A taser?

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

What good was a taser going to do against someone with an ax?

The man - his name tag read "Reynolds" - put his hand to his ear in the classic way someone wearing an earpiece would when the thing wasn't working well and they wanted to try and hear people, then nodded.

"Right, Ma'am, you're the occupant from six-thirteen, right?"

I nodded. "Sorry for the scream. It has... been a day."

He waved it off. "Would you like to wait in the van? The rest of my team is doing a sweep for your attacker as we speak. They already know you're here, and with me and my partner here you'll be safer."

He didn't say 'safe', I noted. "Sure. Better in there than out here."

If he came down here, he wouldn't see me in their van, and if he did, we could just drive away. No one else would see me either, and scent my blood in their water.

The man's partner was in the van, on the driver's side, looking more bored than anything else. He was younger than the man next to me, clean shaven and blond, with a helmet on.

He straightened up a little as we approached. "Our target?"

"The one who called us," Reynolds answered. "one of many, now. I mean the guy has an ax. Look alive."

Reynolds walked me around to the van, opening the side door to reveal a surprisingly normal off-white interior with that long row seating such vans were known for.

Behind me, the driver's side door opened, and Reynold's partner got out. "Right."

"Face the entrance there. I've got the elevators. Sing out if you see or hear anything."

"Right," the man said again, and resolutely turned his face to the garage entrance I'd come in from.

Reynold's leaned in, his own eyes on the elevator doors, and tapped his ear again. "We're in constant communication. So far, nothing yet. The main team is almost at your door."

"Right, thank you." Finally.

Hopefully they caught the man.

We settled in, all three of us. I checked my feet; they were surprisingly unhurt; I had a few small cuts, but nothing serious. Nothing a bath of hydrogen peroxide wouldn't cure, with a little luck.

I looked up to find Reynolds frowning. "Alright, so my Captain just called in. Your door is broken; your apartment has been broken into. They are clearing it, making sure no one is there. But the perpetrator, they didn't pass him in the hall, so they are being careful."

If he didn't break in any other apartment... "If he didn't break into any other apartment, he's either in there or on the fire escape. He might have taken the fire escape like I did."

"Right! The fire escape."

He tapped something near his ear and relayed the information. Some reply came back.

Then he shifted. "Ralph, sound off."

There was no answer. For a beat which stretched on far too long.

Reynolds was just beginning to turn when the ax came into view, driving deep into his skull with a wet thunking crunch that... I did not, could not hear. The man's skull was split, and his arms were jerking as if... as if he'd had a head injury.

Now, after all that, the man drove himself into view, a hoarse scream sounding from his chest as he planted his foot on the falling body and tugged.

The ax remained firmly stuck in Reynolds' head, and he was looking directly at me, his bloodshot eyes wide and unfocused.

He tugged again, looming closer.

There was no way out! no, the front! I lunged for it and found the driver's side door unlocked; it gave when I turned the handle and I shoved myself through it, imagining that ax falling at any moment. Behind me there was another thunk, this one an impact of metal on metal.

The younger kid, Ralph, was lying in a pool of blood. I didn't see anything immediately wrong with him, but blood like that? Something had to be.

He had a weapon. A taser, same as Reynolds had. They were simple, right? Aim and shoot?

I could hear him breathing and stomping; he was coming around the van on the front side. I didn't have much time.

I pulled the taser free as he came into view.

Wait, all things like this had a safety! I scrambled backwards as he came forward; fumbling for anything that felt like a switch.

Something gave, and I felt a click just as my attacker got close enough for him to think now was the time and raise the ax. I fired.