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Black visors.

Black armor.

Black guns.

“Tamson.” This was nothing more than a pathetic whimper.

Tamson materialized behind me, one hand covering my mouth and the other pulling at my waist. I went limp in his arms, allowing him to pull me further and further into the store.

Behind a clothes rack.

Out of sight.

I heard a door opening, followed by what I would almost describe as jovial laughter.

“Shit man,” someone exclaimed. This was followed by words too soft for me to decipher. My body trembled, and my heart hammered.

Could they hear it? My heart?

Fear pooled low in my stomach, churning the contents of my breakfast until I wanted to expel them onto the floor.

Tamson moved to drag me even further back, and it was then that I unintentionally released the ball I had forgotten I had been holding. The sound was deafening. Tam froze behind me.

Silence, surprisingly pronounced, charged the air like an electrical current. For a moment, I thought no one had heard the ball. I thought that I hadn’t just made an idiotic mistake that could cost us both our lives. I thought that the thunder and rain had somehow masked the ball as it rolled across the white tiles.

But then, breaking through the silence, came a voice.

“Who’s there? Come out, come out, wherever you are.”