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“TELL HIM TO stay away,” Emma says, motioning toward Wozniak’s walkie with the lighter. If he gets here, they’ll circle her, and she won’t be able to hold them both off. If he gets here, it will increase her audience to two—not nearly enough. If he gets here, she’s toast.

Emma giggles at the word choice her brain landed on, a bubble of hilarity rising in her throat, pushing aside the gasoline fumes. Wozniak takes a step toward her.

“Emma,” she says. “I know that you think—”

“You don’t know shit,” Emma screams, the hand with the lighter wobbling. “And if you don’t tell him to back off right now, I’ll do it, and you’ll watch it alone.”

Wozniak puts her hands down, reaches for her walkie. “Jones? Where are you? I’ve got a visual on her, northwest quadrant.”

Jones voice comes back, scratchy and confused. “You said northeast? I’m in the northeast.”

“Northwest, confirm,” Wozniak says, eyes still holding Emma’s.

“Northwest, on the way. Just keep her talking.”

Wozniak actually rolls her eyes, and Emma feels a pang of sympathy for her, and what it must be like for a female security officer. It’ll be even worse for Wozniak once everyone knows that she had Emma cornered and backed off.

“Sorry,” Emma says, stepping carefully backward. “I’m not trying to make things harder for you.”

“Then don’t,” Wozniak says, her voice hard and flat. “Just stop.”

“Sounds so simple,” Emma scoffs.

“That’s because it is,” Wozniak says, taking another step forward.

“ You stop,” Emma says, raising the lighter. “That’s what’s simple about this. You stop walking toward me, or I burn.”

Wozniak stops, lips thinning, eyes still searching Emma’s. “Holy shit,” she says. “You’re really going to do it, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, throat clicking as she swallows. “I really am.”

Then she turns and runs.